“I am half-agony, half-hope.”
— Jane Austen
Here’s the scoop: I thought I would have some things pretty well figured out by about now.
I’m not far past the big 3-0. I’ve spent the majority of my adult life living all over the world, doing ministry work on the heels of my Theology degree. I’m married to the best man God ever made (even with the cracks in, I’m pretty confident of this), and we’ve both been walking with God since we were little tikes.
But here’s the thing about being made of skin and bone and hopes and dreams on this fragile planet: everything’s prone to break.
I gave up writing for a while. There was so much hurting all at once that the words to describe anything eluded me. And the dissonance inside grew to such a cacophony that I soon forgot I had words to begin with…
But now, I think I’d like to try to find the words again.
And maybe you do too. And maybe through the suffering and the questions and the “but-I-don’t-understands” and the glimmers of joy we encounter along the way, we could grow toward the light of His Love together, a little bit stronger, a little bit deeper.
The phrase “God-kindled” leapt off the page at me in a C.S. Lewis book called Miracles. I think I knew even then it was meant for me. The one solid thing in this broken, breaking, fragile world is Him, and the way He breathes His life into the mess of our existence– even while we continue to make messes of one another. As my own world went up in flames at every corner and burned til all that was left was a pile of ashes, there He was blowing His breath on the embers. And here I grow amidst the wreckage: God-kindled.