Though the rules are the same for all of us, it seems unfair. Equal but not equitable. That the deepest suffering should create the deepest suffering and that it should lead us into to the deepest suffering of all. Surely - or I have to believe - there must be some benefit to all this suffering. I know one young man who is purest love. To sit with him is to sit with God. A God who has forgotten himself. Whom each and every day finds and loses his divinity. His flame stomped out repeatedly, and I watch it come back and back like a trick candle. He does not know that he is God. Only I know this to be true. Perhaps those deeply buried know it also, but they are revolted by it because of who they are playing, and this is his punishment it seems. Or the road to liberation. His straightening out by fire. This is the God of the people who have very little faith. I want to stand as a cartoon baboon and to hold him up above a cliff like a lion cub and proclaim to the world – see how this man is Jesus. This man is God. The Holy spirit is loud in him. Praise him. But he has forgotten, and they have forgotten. So instead, I sit with him on Tuesdays, trying to meet the God behind his character and when I find it, I remember something important about the world, and it is so beautiful, and all is perfect. The only imperfection is that he can't see it. God is real and I know it for I met him once. He sat across from me upon a chair in the deepest pit of hell.