This Sunday, we read the pinnacle of Paul’s poetry:

I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation can separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Nothing in all creation; even our fallen, failing selves. God must need a great deal of patience.

in my dream, you call.
I dream a graveyard, mist
between the tombstones, hidden
dangers, tree roots grabbing
at my ankles; I am afraid to come,
and so you lay me down
gently on my own marble slab,
call again; in my dream,
the city rushes, buses, taxis,
children crying in strollers, lights
changing at lightning speed – Don’t Walk:
the red man stands between us,
forbidding. You send
an angel in white gloves, halt
the madness, part the sea;
in my dream, his right
hand holds a warrant. I run
from what I have done; I run.
In my dream, you call.
A chasm divides us.
You lay the timbers you have
carried across the abyss:
nothing can separate us,
you say, in all creation.
Who created, then, this fear
I dream that holds me?
In my dream, you call.