Bare chest to the sun God

I wasn't sure I could rely on the message because I never trust the sound of His voice when it sounds exactly like my own and reverberates through my own head, bumping off my conflicted and guilt ridden heart.
But it was there and my logical mind was working overtime to explain it away or hold it at far enough from me for fear that it wouldn't last longer than it took to consider it. This is usually what happens when I've heard rumours of this message.
There weren't words, really. Not pictures or revelations. Just this feeling.
Peace. Calm. No. More than this.
Happiness? More.
It was love. Real love for myself like I haven't felt before and if I have it was so long ago I don't remember. Love that accepted me, lying naked in the sun, without guilt or alteration, bare and raw and vulnerable.
I discovered the holy communion of skinny dipping. Water cleansing and caressing and embracing. I discovered that I was okay while the sun dried me with her radiant smile and the wind kissed me with her gentle breath and the waves under the boat gently rocked me on her knee until I was asleep, or better, content.
And so this must be the church...full of friends and laughter and food and wine and this bizarre and unexpected assurance of His love. This gentle but outlandish idea that I am loved and capable of love and worthy of love. Today, I get it.
And so I thank the God of the water and the God of the sun and the God of the wind who momentarily commandeered my head today to reveal this tiny, unfathomable mystery in the universe.
Who knew a christian god would condone skinny dipping? I get the feeling that She is very much more radical than we give Her credit for.