Thank goodness there’s an adult in Gwyn’s life eyes spark at the magnificence of mathematics.But I’m also grateful to our pastor, who sees Gwyn’s cynicism about that great bearded white guy in the sky for what it is—an early and woefully simplistic understanding of (and then rejection of) holiness. Here’s hoping we can communicate to Gwyn—to anyone, to everyone—the beautiful calculus of faith.
Forget belief. Believing isn’t the point. Nor is following a prescribed set of rules or performing a set of rituals. The point is experience, opening ourselves to transformation, to awe, to becoming agents of change, to loving.
I wonder if love wants to be born through even my fear, that fear can crack me open if I choose rather than shut me down.
All these sparks are part of a much brighter and broader light, and we can gather it up from anywhere, everywhere, for the healing of the world.
Who knows why our bodies are the way they are, fleshy and fit, broken and breaking out, male and female and the spectrum between? Who understands the indomitable nature of our souls? Creation unfurls immeasurable variety, and all of it can be transparent to this unexpected, revising love.