What follows was written a little more than two years ago. That was the summer that I rediscovered authentic, historical Christian theologySunriseGreatSmokyMountainsNationalPark10-2000copy. 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.

Amen.

* * *

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.

Come home

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.

Come home

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.

Come home

Yes. In a little while. When gold and purple frame the morning. But, for now, I am content with night’s stars.

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