Monthly Archives: October 2016
I’ll walk past those significant spaces on campus that graciously held my tear-filled conversations, all-nighters, hilarious pranks, Calvin walks, and breakups. I see new students carrying on life; these are their spaces now.
However, when I found my predecessor’s clipboard, book of short stories, and spatula scattered around my room, I was tempted to see my move as a predictable step on an already well-worn path.
Do you understand?
I cock my head; wait, again?
I am as control-hungry, wealth-lusting, and greed-seeking as every antagonist in Narnia. I am worse because I am not fictional. I fear Aslan because he loves me regardless.
I believe in God the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth. These were borrowed words and they were not mine.
I believe that God sees enough glimmers of faith and goodwill in our everyday conduct to keep Him convicted of our worth.
A definition. A rationalization. An attribute. An un-plumbable well of existence.
The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked. Who can know it? (Jeremiah 17:9)
God’s wildness is a multiplied version of the boot-quaking awe we experience when we gaze upon the Grand Canyon.
For this reason, merely believing in “something” is not half-hearted or vague, but both mind-blowing and earth-shattering.
In a word: I am so hopelessly imperfect it frequently causes me to crawl into a blanket fort and wish the world away.
If anyone in contemporary America can sympathize with the frustration of first-century Christians awaiting the imminent return of Christ, it’s we Cubs fans.
Where moments before had been only a slew of green speckles, I could suddenly see a crouching frog. It had been there all along; I just hadn’t had the skill, the “sight,” to notice it before.
Because of my extension, my tax deadline fell in a period of the liturgical year called Ordinary Time, which seems more apt than the traditional timing of Tax Day, so close to Passion Week.
Hi. My name is Cassie. There’s forever a part of me stuck in the loop of crawling in and out of bed.
Because I am, and “I AM,” and love is, and there must be more love out there—“the greatest of these.” For these reasons, I follow in the long tradition of abiding with God in silence.
Eventually we’ll we end up here, at Martha’s, on a Tuesday, past our bedtime. For sweet treats, those blessed and treacherous confections.
The character becomes too old, too practical, or too jaded to believe in the thing that once brought him so much joy. That world, the thing he loved so much and invested so much time in, dies. And something inside him dies, too.
Maybe by the time I’m ninety-six or ninety-seven I’ll see things differently. Maybe I’ll see divine love in the allowance of racial violence, torture, and marginalization.
Christians shouldn’t be surprised that people think we’re assholes. As a collective, we’ve thrown our weight behind some pretty misguided causes.
I thought, if I just touch the wood of the casket, maybe God will bring him back. What if that happened? How amazing would that be? Then everyone would believe in God.
I believe some things because it is easier than wrestling with the hard questions.
(My agnosticism is a cop out.)
I can’t remember a time when I didn’t believe there was something else out there.
I believe because I don’t believe in soundbites, How to Win Friends and Influence People, diets, morals of the story, or myself.
It is up to the reader to decide which story is true—or if not to determine truth, at least to decide which is the story they will believe.
Do I cling to God and morality because behind those things there lies a black, incessant void of despair and pointlessness that existentialism can barely put a Hello-Kitty band-aid on?
The fun sexy couple that is totally giving you the side eye and feeling really, really uncomfortable because you are just standing there.
Certainly the most popular selfie-spot on campus, Touchdown Jesus overlooks the football stadium with Christ and his perpetually upraised arms.
This hope beyond reason (though not against reason) is not held in monopoly by Christians, but it is central to Christianity.