What follows was written a little more than two years ago. That was the summer that I rediscovered authentic, historical Christian theology. That was the summer I began (as detailed here) to leave the theological liberalism into which I had been walking. That was also the summer that I began to sense God again.
Anyhow, I rediscovered this piece of writing today. And I think it’s fitting for my current moment. I feel like, over the last several months (since joining Richardson East and especially since choosing to leave academia and to dedicate myself to teaching in a robust, small-o orthodox school) that I have come home.
Gold and purple frame the morning. My heart is steadfast.
* * *
Assaulted by joy and bound by love, I am content. I eagerly anticipate the life that is to come, but I am a glowing ember, a cherry-red chunk of charcoal; I will erupt into flame. In good time.
I feel the exhale of God, that Holy Breath, graze across my cooling heart.
He and I have met in the books and the shadows, in the coffee and the rain. We have lingered over the last of the beer, discussing in circles the summons.
And I will. I’ve known this in my heart for only a few months.
But I’ve been on the road for years. Wandering. Wondering. Meandering hither, thither, and yon. Sleeping in parks and motels. Dining in gas stations and diners.
But I will not begrudge a year. Or five. For, I know, the hot meal and the bed will wait. I’ve been called a bum before, a no good drifter.
And so was he.
Yes. In a little while. When gold and purple frame the morning. But, for now, I am content with night’s stars.