Abraham
IF YOU ASKED ME how strong my faith feels, especially these days, I might tell you that I feel as strong as the leaves and twigs of a tree in a windstorm. But if you asked me what I’m connected to, I might tell you that my tiny twigs of faith are tied to a pretty solid trunk of community rooted in rich soil.
I’m sorely tempted, every day, to live in my leaf energy and cry. To “twig out” in terror. But I’m trying to remember that this faith thing is not a solitary endeavor, that because of you we have a trunk, that because of our ancestors we have roots. I’m trying to remember that even when the storm rages on, it will take a lot more than high wind to knock us flat.
Musician Nicole C. Mullen and theologian Ellen F. Davis articulate the goodness of God in their own unique ways.
I'm on the flight home now.
"Home."
It's a curious idea, really. Home.
As children we might make a game of it. You know, like when you play tag with your friends and you create a safe place where you can't be tagged. Even when we play games it's important to have a place to be safe...a "home."
When we played this game as children, however, we had another rule. You could not stay at home forever. You had to venture out. Sometimes the rule would be that you could stay home for 30 seconds and no more.
Home.
It's safe. You can't be tagged there.
But you can't stay forever, either.