Children of Light

Community, Life, Love 0

To be “children of light” – people in whom the gospel shines brightly – is different from being morally perfect or never failing. Any focus on perfection was an utterly false and illusory goal that made Christianity into a cult of innocence, whose adherents are so often full of blame and denial that they allow their fault to be projected onto others, unable to see similar failings in themselves.

When Jesus said we are “the light of the world” (Matthew 5:14), he said we must extend this light to “everyone in the house” (5:15) in the form of our own “good works” (5:16), not just exposing others’ bad works. But light does what light does. It clarifies, helps us see fully, and gives us the insight, freedom, and courage to perceive ourselves rightly. Divine light does not inflate us with the pride of “I know,” but illuminates those around us with the gratitude of “I am, too” – a kind of joining “everyone in the house.” Both light and love reveal not our separate superiority, but rather our radical sameness. That quality is, in fact, the way you can tell divine light from human glaring.

— Richard Rohr, The Tears of Things, p. 145-146

Photo: Tulips at Burnside Farms, Virginia, April 7, 2026

On the Wandering Path

Grace, Growth, Healing 0

“Not all who wander are lost,” writes J.R.R. Tolkien. You’re not lost, you’re right where you belong on this wandering path. It might be disorienting, there may be danger, but you’re not lost. You’re on the right journey. It’s just a different path than you were expecting when you were handed a brand of faith and told to cultivate and protect it at all costs. You’re becoming someone who is more loving, someone who is healing, who is more acquainted with the fragility and belovedness of us all. The deliverance that’s waiting on the other side of the wilderness isn’t a tidier, nicer version of you with new and better answers: your deliverance was always going to be more Love.

— Sarah Bessey, Field Notes for the Wilderness, p. 43

Photo: Bluebell Trail, Bull Run Regional Park, Virginia, April 3, 2026

Step Back

Compassion, Connection, Friends, Letting Go 0

As I age, I am more drawn to those who speak honestly to me. Nomatter how bitter the pill, no matter how long it takes to work, I do ant this medicine. Give me your truth and allow me to determine whether it is the right remedy for me. Time will reveal its efficacy.

I would rather hear a truth from a friend, and adjust my behavior accordingly, than meet the reactions of cold consequence which could be much more harsh.

Maybe it’s time to turn that old line from the prayer book around to read, “Speak now and try never to hold your peace.” Speak if you must, absolutely. Speak and then step back. Give room. They are God’s to teach, God’s to hold, God’s to heal.

— Margaret Dulaney, To Hear the Forest Sing, p. 103-104

Photo: Bluebells at Bull Run Regional Park, Virginia, April 3, 2026

Rest

Jesus, Life, Peace, Rest 0

We often see rest as a tool to help us be more efficient later or as a way to prevent burnout, as if burnout is the natural order of things. But here’s a truth I find pressing for our time: Never did Jesus say “rest now so you can work harder later.” Rest was never framed as something we do only to be more productive afterward. In a world obsessed with efficiency, where rest is seen as a way to recharge for more labor, Jesus shows us something else. He offers rest as an end in itself, as a way of being, a gift that is not earned but given freely. His rest is not about being more useful tomorrow; it’s about being fully human today.

— Kat Armas, Liturgies for Resisting Empire, p. 124

Photo: Tulips at Burnside Farms, Nokesville, Virginia, April 8, 2026

Chosen to Love

Calling, God, Love 0

Think of the many, many stories about God choosing people. There are Moses, Abraham, and Sarah. There are David, Jeremiah, Gideon, Samuel, Jonah, and Isaiah. There is Israel itself. Much later, there are Peter and Paul, and, most especially, Mary.

God is always choosing people. First impressions aside, God is not primarily choosing them for a role or a task, although it might appear that way. God is really choosing them to be God’s self in this world, each in a unique situation. If they allow themselves to experience being chosen, being a beloved, being somehow God’s presence in the world, they invariably communicate that same chosenness to others. Thus the Mystery passes on, from age to age. Yes, we do have roles and tasks in this world, but finally they are all the same — to uniquely be divine love in a way that on one else can or will.

— Richard Rohr, Yes . . . And: Daily Meditations, p. 286

Photo: South Riding, Virginia, March 24, 2026

Image Bearers

Core Value, God, Grace, Life 0

Adam and Eve walked out from the garden loved, called, and chosen. Their eyes were firmly fixed on God’s promise to make all things new. They weren’t wandering, and they weren’t lost, and we don’t need to be either. We are image bearers of God. We are created out of his abundant love, we were called with a purpose, and we have been equipped to imitate him! We live out the image of God together and in every sphere of our lives. We imitate him at home, at work, and at church. We fill and subdue; we create and bring order both in the secular and spiritual realms. We have been called to bring the fullness of God to the world, and we do that by living as his image.

We have been freed to live as image bearers of God.

— Elizabeth Garn, Freedom to Flourish, p. 138-139

Photo: Cherry blossoms, South Riding, Virginia, March 31, 2026

Wonder and Awe

Beauty, Joy 0

People who truly know how to wonder don’t expend a great deal of energy talking about it; they are off catching snowflakes on hot tongues. They’re folding themselves in half to smell the sweet potatoes in the oven just one more time. I no longer try to convince someone of the delight of soup dumplings; I take them to Dim Sum Garden on Race Street in Philly and let them watch me slurp. I let the steaming miracle broth run down my face and lap it up in remembrance.

I think awe is an exercise, both a doing and a being. It is a spiritual muscle of our humanity that we can only keep from atrophying if we exercise it habitually. I sit in the clearing behind Wisewood listening to the song of the barn swallows mix with the sound of cars speeding by. I watch the milk current through my tea and the little leaves dance free from their pouch. I linger in the mirror and I don’t look away. I trace the shadows hugging my lips and I don’t look away. Awe is not a lens through which to see the world but our sole path to seeing. Any other lens is not a lens but a veil. And I’ve come to believe that our beholding – seeing the veils of this world peeled back again and again, if only for a moment – is no small form of salvation.

— Cole Arthur Riley, This Here Flesh, p. 31

Photo: Cherry blossoms, South Riding, Virginia, March 24, 2026

Whoever

Grace, Jesus, Universalism 0

By using the word “whoever,” Jesus expands the borders of who’s in and who’s out, scrambling their notions of who gets to receive the grace of God and how they get to receive it. By opening eternal life to “whoever eats of this bread,” Jesus begins to deconstruct that old bureaucratic system of circles and opens up eternal life to . . . well . . . whoever! It isn’t about blood or lineage or culture or tradition. It has nothing at all to do with any of the circles the people of God had previously drawn. Perhaps the disciples were scandalized because they wondered, “Could it be just anybody who eats the bread?” Maybe they even worried, “Could it be . . . everybody?”

Exclusion is easy. Walking around thinking that we are the special ones, that we are justified simply by virtue of who we are or what we believe, some identity or another, is comforting. Cutting more and more people out of that circle isn’t a problem as long as we stay nestled safely inside of it.

Expanding the circle, however, is a “hard teaching.” Expand it too far and we start to wonder if there’s anything special about us at all.

By that measure, universalism might just be the hardest teaching because it expands the circle all the way.

— Derek Ryan Kubilus, Holy Hell, p. 126

Photo: South Riding, Virginia, March 21, 2026