SpillingOver.

12.11.15

Sometimes I get really overwhelmed. Truly. I’ll be reading, letting the methodical pull of the words before me enchant my very being, reeling me into something much bigger than my own ideas and desires, and I’ll stop. Mentally and physically, I will have to stop and place the book on my lap or on the table beside me.

Words fall short of explaining this emotion, this moment. It’s brief and consuming. Often times, the world feels too much, too beautiful and too treacherous, and for a split second, I’m liberated from the vastness of the universe. The complexities of our culture, the dangers of humanity, and the sorrows that link to our inevitable end, temporarily dissipate.

None of it seems worthy of acknowledgement. I think if words have the power of taking us to this place, this peace, then there’s hope for the power and purpose of a human heart.

If a stranger can string together words powerful enough to envelop and stop me in my stream of perpetual fears and bitterness, then I cannot fathom what an intentional, relational, love can build and pass on.

It’s too beautiful, it’s too much. I’m spilling over with hope and gratefulness and eagerness to continue on. 

“Everything was resurrected on that truth. And now for me, faith is less of a brick edifice of belief and doctrine and right answers than it is a wide-open sky ringed with pine trees black against a cold sunset, an alter, a welcome, bread and wine, an unfathomably ferocious love, and a profound sense of my belovedness.” -Sarah Bessey (Jesus Feminist)

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