No, God is not among us. We shall scream his name in pleasure but he cannot live here.
This is a body for sin. Dust unto dust but first let flesh cleave unto flesh.
This is not a cry for help, our broken bodies offer no attrition. Our demons deserve loving and our vices must find expression.
It is in ordinariness that we find expression, the lies, the cheating, the violence, our insecurities. Our basest instincts put up the best show.
All the rest of the world does is imitate. Dress it up in finery, take it to therapy, share it in relationships, exorcise in religion.
We refuse to do no such thing. We will wear our sin with pride, our past is our recital, our pain is our glory and in our trauma lies our redemption.