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Gwendolyn Brooks's great poem "The Preacher Ruminates Behind the Sermon" gets at this:

I think it must be lonely to be God.

Nobody loves a master. No. Despite

The bright hosannas, bright dear-Lords, and bright

Determined reverence of Sunday eyes.

Picture Jehovah striding through the hall

Of His importance, creatures running out

From servant-corners to acclaim, to shout

Appreciation of His merit's glare.

But who walks with Him?—dares to take His arm,

To clap Him on the shoulder, tweak His ear,

Buy Him a Coca-Cola or a beer,

Pooh-pooh His politics, call Him a fool?

Perhaps—who knows?—He tires of looking down.

Those eyes are never lifted. Never straight.

Perhaps sometimes He tires of being great

In solitude. Without a hand to hold.

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May 3·edited May 3Liked by Admired Leadership

Serving as a school principal I feel this from students, parents, teachers and community members. I have to come back to my ‘why’ and that is for the betterment of others. Great reminder today!

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"loneliness that is as dangerous to health as smoking 15 cigarettes a day."

https://www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-65461723

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