Spirituality

The Depths of the Ocean

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Sometimes I am a witness, sometimes I am the mess. But I am in it all wholeheartedly. We hide our true selves so often behind our fear of being seen for our messy selves. In our hiding we hurt each other, in our hiding we resist the pain of vulnerability and miss the gift of intimacy that comes from it. 

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A Theology of Rain.

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I wanted to be raw and vulnerable again, I wanted to be exposed. Inside, I felt the storm was inside me and the best I could do was surrender to the storm that was falling down on me. If you watch and wait, the clouds will gather and cover the sun. The rains will come then go and the light will emerge again.

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Anticipation Sickness.

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This combination of hope and anxiety can be crippling. And that’s anticipation sickness. Knowing the risk you take to hope at all, knowing what losing hope will feel like, how our way of seeing the world will be again challenged. It’s the fear and anxiety that overshadows joy. Hope is not a joyful feeling – hope is the gut-wrenching, white-knuckled sigh of the heartbroken, brave and vulnerable to look up, to say ‘Okay, let’s go again.’

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The Lonely Advent.

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Advent season ends with Mary, Joseph, Jesus and a motley crew of shepherds, wise men and innkeepers gathered together in a stable; for each person the journey starts alone. It is the same for us. This aloneness is an extraordinary opportunity. When we are alone, we are left with no choice but to be confronted with ourselves. Our fears, hopes, our dreams and expectations in a season of expectations.

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The Hopeful Audacity Of It.

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I’m close to throwing a tantrum in the face of the Universe. A grown-up one, with big words and everything. I’ve lived here five years looking at that same corner, same tinny house, same Indian store and all of sudden they’ve opened the door. The hopeful audacity of it. That if you try, they will come. If you stay open and welcoming, people will turn around and look after you. If you fight just a little more, ‘No’ might turn to ‘Yes’. It’s easy to turn my cynicism audacious, to make the Bullshit calls loud and clear. It’s harder to choose a hopeful audacity. A plucky bleeding courage that keeps on playing anyway. A hopeful audacity that compells me to put on my unicorn panties, fight hard tomorrow but not against myself.

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A Woman Too Ambitious For Church Confesses

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It’s not that the Church doesn’t want me. The Church doesn’t always know what to do with me but the truth is I want more because the Church is not enough for me. I want the world. I’ve been hoping by some miracle, I was still going to get the ego fix I wanted and the Church would chase after me with open arms, claim me as her own.

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