In his resurrection, Christ wastes no time in mending and restoring ties with loved ones who wronged him. Even in our worst moments, he sees who we are, and not what we’ve done. Thank God he’s still in that business today.
A fitting poem from Dana Streufert with Ascension and Pentecost Sunday in our rearview. Check out more of Dana's work at her blog! Were it not for love this parting act could have been easy Pain lessened, lighter load lifted, never bleeding Empty, hollow without ceasing this leaving could have been ... Continue Reading →
The stone is rolled back, not papier-mache, Not a stone in a story, But the vast rock of materiality that in the slow grinding of Time will eclipse for each of us The wide light of day.
Beautiful insights from our favorite woodsman and wordsmith, Wendell Berry, on the change of his language and the words he reconsidered later on in his life.
"The Cultivation of Christmas Trees", T.S. Eliot, 1954 There are several attitudes towards Christmas, Some of which we may disregard: The social, the torpid, the patently commercial, The rowdy (the pubs being open till midnight), And the childish - which is not that of the child For whom the candle is a star, and the... Continue Reading →
Of all the books I read in college one of the most valuable and one of the few that I still find myself returning to regularly is Dorothy Sayers' The Man Born to Be King, a cycle of twelve plays about the life Christ that was written and produced for BBC radio during World War II. If... Continue Reading →
With 16 seconds left in the 1993 national championship game between UNC and Michigan, his team down two, Chris Webber grabbed the rebound of a missed UNC foul shot. With no timeouts left, the Wolverines needed to take it the length of the court to score.
Who is this coming king? This already-not-yet regent, humble, hard, and kind, Lord beyond death, broken body bursting with life, transfigured with light, the torture wounds still open on his resurrected hands.
Our post here comes from dear friend, Sam Stockwell. Here it is: We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time. - T. S. Eliot, “Little Gidding” Perhaps Eliot wasn’t thinking of Lent when he penned... Continue Reading →