enchanted angst

 You make it sound like I'm sending my kid to hell Or violent combat Rather than public school. You make it sound like they're forsaken by God  As they roam the halls of their school. As if the love of God cannot course through  those very halls. As if that old dingy school Isn't utterly enchanted by His presence. I want her to see for her own eyes That she cannot flee from His Spirit. That it isn't found just within the walls of home or church That it isn't accessed through a carefully curated education But that it awaits her in every classroom Dances around her at recess Fills her belly at lunch. I guess I don't want my child to see "the world" As an argument to dismantle or a theory to disprove but as a bunch of human beings Glorious, messy, valued that she belongs to them And they to her. I want her to practice seeing God's image  in every single person. Is her school really a war zone for which she must be dressed for battle? I wonder this as ...

 I know. I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to turn into this. There wasn't a light bulb moment No switch flipped Just a slow, holy burn. I know you're horrified You're worried I'm going to hell [which means you are, too] You're wondering what went wrong Can you change course? Shift the trajectory? Stop the slide down the slippery slope? I know what you think Of people like me Liberal. Watered-down.  Easy Believism.  No fear of God. All love, no truth. All grace, no wrath. The truth is that wrath has already come for me in a million little ways. My fear of God is so big, his boundlessness so wild, That I no longer have the audacity to peg Him down. I no longer claim to answer for Him. Do you really think I'd wind up here haphazardly? You know who you are How deeply you think How much you care. I am the product Of your zeal, your integrity, your pursuit. I won't try to convince you of anything I won't argue theology or philosophy I landed here after a dec...

 Fall is here, it is healing me.  My baby boy is bringing me such delight. My children are growing, thriving.  I am happy.  Is this what it feels like? I wonder what calamities could be lurking. But all I have is here, now.  I am being. I am bringing beauty into the world.  I am breathing. There is space in my mind for wonder.  I am grieving. I long for the people who won't leave me for the familiar, the comfortable, the knowable. Where are the friends with room enough for my questions? Where are the people who won't shun me for my uncertainties? Is there anyone I'm not "too much" for? I'm sick of the same old people who have the same old answers who read the same old books. Where are the ones willing to go to the edges of their faith, wondering how far it will stretch? Where are the ones willing to pave new trails, pitch tent in the wilderness, push back against the doctrine? Am I the only one who just cannot handle the Jesus shirts, the use of Gospel...