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A Prayer Into the Void

I feel the emptiness inside me like a chasm, a great yawning void that swallows everything and remains still unsatisfied. A black echo wide open in my chest, extending through my ribs and out my back into infinite depth. A hole that absorbs all sound and light. I keep trying to fill it up with a fam
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So That I Don’t Forget

“What is saving your life right now?” Stephen asks me yesterday at church, and I say the first three things that come to mind: “Coldplay. Rohr. Hope.” The first two come and go — they’ll be different next month — but the third one has been close to my heart
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When We Throw Stones

“Let him who is without sin throw the first stone.” That’s what they say, when religious leaders are questioned about their abusive and manipulative actions. “We all make mistakes. Nobody’s perfect. You wouldn’t want somebody airing all your dirty laundry, would y
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I’m Tired of Owning

i’m tired of owning things boxes taped up and torn open again and taped up again but never really unpacked i’m tired of clothing and toys and furniture and all the trappings of should and supposed to and someday i’m tired of all the things we bought because they’re the sorts
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Love Trumps Fear

“If we love one another, God abides in us, and His love has been perfected in us. God is love, and he who abides in love abides in God, and God in him. There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear.” (from I John 4) It’s one of my favorite passages in all of Scripture,
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Last Sunday

At Renovatus Church, there’s this liturgy we say every week before Communion: “This is the Table, not of the Church, but of the Lord. It is made ready for those who love Him, and for those who want to love Him more. So come, you who have much faith and you who have little. You who have b
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When Writing is an Act of Hope

I bought a new journal last month. It’s a terribly ugly little thing – a ghastly shade of green with a thin, tight spine. When you look for a new journal during the first week of back-to-school, the options are few. But it does the trick. Over morning coffee, the pen bleeds across those
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Into the Winter

“…but the summers make up for it.” That’s what the people from Minnesota always said, when I complained about the long, cold winters. The summers make up for it.  And I laughed at them as I packed my bags and boxes and headed south. Didn’t they realize that there were p
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