Our heavenly Father, You are the God of both the wine and the wineskins. You order our affairs in ways that astonish us, and we are sometimes tempted to think that You have forgotten what You ought to be doing.
Your wisdom transcends ours. Your thoughts are not our thoughts. Your ways are not our ways. Your wisdom has infinite depths which we cannot sound, and Your majesty towers to heights beyond all creaturely comprehension.
You are not a tame god, and cannot be domesticated by Your people, however much we try. When we seek to bind You with the chains of human traditions, we find that we have to confess that all such bonds are gossamer threads and do not bind you in the least. The only thing we do whenever our unbelief attempts this is get ourselves tangled up.
We confess that You are bound by nothing other than Your own nature and character, You are restrained by nothing other than Your own promises. We cling to those promises now, and we worship You.