From a Freshman design project about spiritual abuse and sexism.
I envy the type of faith and theology I used to uphold. It was so much easier. Black and white was far more comforting. I could write it down, list it out, define it and show it to you. Here, see? Chapter 3 verse 16.
Now, I hardly can keep up. I can’t get my hands around it, I can’t hold it. It spirals out of control, whizzes around, transforms into something even more elusive before I can find it again. But I can’t stop chasing it even though I know catching it isn’t an option and one I don’t even want. I revel in catching glimpses though, I glory dance. I get hungrier for more so I run faster, harder; I leap. I sometimes fall.
I always get back up.
Wanting more.
Needing more.
Knowledge, truth, understanding, love.
More God truth.
More world truth.
More me truth.
More purpose.
And I find it, in places I don’t expect, in people I don’t expect.
Not in steeples
Not in robes
Not behind pulpits.
So, I run, tumble, fall, dance and rest in this glory filled journey.
