So I stumbled on this great resource and community called the Spiritual Abuse Survivor’s Network. Their goal is to raise awareness of the dangers of spiritual abuse by promoting bloggers who have been abused and are using their voices to speak out against the injustices they’ve seen committed in the name of religion. Continue reading
Can the dead see us?
Is there music in heaven?
Are there animals?
How are we never bored?
I had to restrain myself from tweeting the whole essay, but here’s an excerpt. He’s answering the question of whether we’ll know everything in heaven, and comes to the conclusion that though we’ll know much more than we know on earth, it will be our joy to be as children as forever in the glory of our own smallness:
Even if there is no curtain in Heaven, even if our consciousness there dashes against no wall or limit, still we remain like the tiny figures in a Chinese landscape: small subjects in an enormously larger objective world. Even if we then escape from the tiny hut in which we are now imprisoned and through whose smudged windows or chinks in whose walls we now must look – even if we wander freely in the country of light – we are in the light, not the light in us. Our first and last wisdom in Heaven is Socratic, just as it is on earth: to know how little we know. If there is no end of the need for humility in the moral order (the saint is the one humble enough not to think he is a saint), the same is true of the intellectual order (the wise man is the one humble enough to know he has no wisdom). It all depends on the standard of judgment: by earthly standards most of us are moderately saintly and moderately wise; by Heavenly standards all of us, even in Heaven, are children. And by the standard of the infinite, inexhaustible perfection of God, we remain children forever. Happy children, fulfilled children, but children.
This helpful illustration cropped up yesterday on my Twitter feed. Sarah has a whole Tumblr full of perceptive doodles if you’re interested.
For a long time this was how I made friends. In high school I developed a peculiar habit of assuming that if someone showed interest in me, they probably hated me. Or if they didn’t now, they were going to once they really got to know me. My insecurity irritated people and drove them away.
This was exacerbated by the cult I was in for about three and a half years after college, where friends throughout the country were warned not to talk to me. Continue reading
for in you my soul takes refuge; Continue reading
One year ago today, I lost a dear friend. Continue reading
Today was the first day of this year that actually felt like fall. Like October.
It was a windy day, cool and dark. Half the leaves on our trees are still green, but the other half have already died, and there are brown patches in the yard where the grass is dying. There was no sun. The clouds were a strange color: not quite gray and not quite blue, but somehow both.
This time of year always produces conflicted feelings. So many bad things seem to happen in October and November, and the whole world is graying and mournful. Appropriate, I guess; elegant in its own way; yet also terrible and bleak and unutterably sad.
But it isn’t evil. It feels right, somehow. Right for this time of year. Continue reading