Come and sit on the back porch with me. The breeze is slight on this summer evening, but the sun is too busy playing through the clouds to heat the air. The grass is green and feels good on bare feet. Tree's stand nearly still, only occasionally shifting their weight in discomfort. There is a noisy silence all around. Chorused by crickets, birds, a distant mower. Muted with my long, deep breath.

"Is this part of my faith?" I ask as I catch a rabbit stirring out of the corner of my eye. I watch him nibble about the grass.

"Am I just eating the grass?" The question sounds dumb as I release, and the look on your face says that you agree. But you are too kind to say anything and the silence once again drifts over us.

I disturb the silence once again, but this time with just the beginning of a word. I'm not exactly sure what to say, but I need response and I need dialogue. So I begin anyway.

"Do you ever feel like God's just packaged?" Your look tells me to explain. "Sometimes I just feel like I've bought God how I wanted him. Then I put him in a pretty package with a cool new label, and now I'm trying to sell him, but only as the way I bought him to begin with, only now he's better. Does that make any sense?" You don't say anything. You don't have to. I know it doesn't make any sense.

"Like God's an old Mustang with a big V8, but the body is a little rusty and the paint has faded. And there's no CD player, but it's still cool cause it's an old Mustang. Are you following me?" I don't wait for a reply. "And I've given the 'stang a new paint job, and restored all the parts and Bondoed the rust. I'm in the middle of putting in a new system, and I'm debating whether it's right to put subs in a classic car or not? But the car looks awesome, and it drives beautifully. I cruise down the street and people look at me. And that V8 has a lot of power." I sit up on the edge of my seat and look at you as my words flow out faster. "I know not everyone likes Mustangs, but if they get in mine I know they'll like it, cause how could they not like it. It's classic and cool. It's ancient and modern."

I let the words slip of my tongue, and slide back deeper into my seat. You still don't say anything, and you're just looking into the clouds. I don't know if you don't want to have this conversation, if you're thinking about what I said, or if you're just thinking I'm an idiot.

I slip in during the bark of a dog across the yard. "I just don't want to make God into my Mustang, because then he's just another idol I worship. You know what I mean?"