Doors and hallways

Dear God,

I’m standing in a hallway. There are a lot of doors opening and closing on either side, a cacophony of squeaking hinges, soft clicks and brutal bangs. As one opens, I catch a glimpse of the room inside. I’d have to see more to decide if I really want to go through it, but the glimpse is tantalizing enough to stir my curiosity.

I try to push it open further but my strength is ineffectual. It will not budge. Perhaps if I wait, it will magically unstick.

After a short while it does unstick, but the door swings shut and now it is locked.

There are so many other doors. Why am I sad about this one?

I stare back down the corridor; there is a light-dance on the beeswax-polished floorboards as doors swing back and forth, rays spilling into the hall and then disappearing. I cannot tell which lights are true sunlight. I cannot tell which are glaring neon signs that might be spelling ‘warning’ if I could see them properly.

Some doors aren’t open at all. They’re big and imposing with big brass knockers that would sound very loud in this hushed hallway. Eventually, I pluck up the courage to try one. I curl my fingers around the cold, heavy brass, and knock. A porter peers through the keyhole; tells me I will be granted entry, but I must wait. The longer I wait, the more my knees begin to tremble. What if there are monsters in there?

There’s a door that’s never locked. I pass through it from time to time; it is a familiar place, but I don’t long for it as I once did.

Some doors have been opening and closing on me for some time now. I used to walk through them and wipe my feet on the welcome mats, but now, I have to knock louder to be granted entry. My knuckles are grazed and sore, but my knocking is drowned out from other voices within. I don’t want to force my way in; perhaps I should spare my bruised knuckles and leave these doors to open of their own accord.

The doors that swing open and shut look kind of flimsy now that I think about it. They’re kind of dwarfed by the light pouring in from the door at the end of the hallway.

This door is smaller than the others, quite unassuming, but it stands wide open all day and all night. I don’t know why, really, since I ignore it so often. But there it is, welcoming in it’s quiet but persistent way. I know that spending more time in there would lessen the confusion. I’d see clearer to know which doors to avoid. I’d be given the boldness to walk through the ones that look scary.

I loiter in this hallway now, but I won’t forever. Yet no matter which other doors I may pass through, for a short visit or a permanent move; no matter which other hallways I have stood in, and will stand in, this open door of light- this warm welcome into your beautiful presence, oh Father-  is constant and unchanging.

In the midst of confusion, I remember this, and I am glad.


On why I think the media is wrong about sex

This post will divide opinion, but I can’t pretend that I don’t think it’s important.

Because it is. Is it the ‘be-all and end-all’, to borrow a Shakespeare coinage? Is it essential to your existence? No.

There’s a problem with today’s society though. Everyone’s getting mixed messages about what sex is actually supposed to be. Really, think about this for a second. You’ve all heard the phrase- ‘it’s just sex.’

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I want to want you more.

I want to want you more, God. I want to long for your presence with all that I am. I want to know that you’re enough for me.

You were enough a few months ago. You still are, but I really felt it then. In the midst of some hard stuff, you were everything. I devoted more time to you in those weeks than I’d done in months, maybe even years. My bible was filling up with wobbly underlinings and scrawled notes in the tiny margins; my worship playlists were on repeat for my short journeys to town and campus. I was so excited about you in my life. I delighted in telling you about the things that were of importance to me, and loved that big or small, you already knew them, and you cared.

I know you’re unchanging and you love me more than I’ll ever comprehend. But as term got busier and little annoyances got to me, the time I spent with you started to decrease again. I hit a wall and didn’t know how to climb it, so I got a bit stuck for a while. I’d been feeling passionate about bringing your kingdom to earth through healing and miracles; I wanted you to use me in that, but it started to feel impossible.

The other weekend, with your funny way of using unexpected people and places, you showed me that you didn’t forget about that. Not only did you not forget, but you’re completely with me on this. You probably get way more excited about things than we do, but we humans are so good at putting you in a box based on our own limitations. So when you reminded me of your great delight in me, and the ways in which you want to use me, I was pretty stoked.

But I was also pretty stoked because I was having a great weekend, and the following couple of weeks have been lacking the same excitement. Instead of using the time wisely, praying into the word you gave me or even just doing more revision, I managed to waste a good deal of it by procrastinating, and/or overthinking things (you must be used to that from me though). Even when great things happen, I still find ways to push you aside.

You’re unfathomably good, and you deserve far more of my time and attention than the few minutes and passing thoughts I give you. I want to know you’re enough even when I don’t feel it. I don’t want to make it about how I feel, I want to be overflowing with joy simply because of who you are. Instead, I’ve been complaining or worrying about things I can’t control. How easily I forget the amazing things you’ve done in my life; how from the big obstacles to the minor details, you’ve worked everything out.

We all slip up in life. This is just my recognition that recently, I’ve been screwing this up a little bit. You already knew that but I thought I would tell you anyway.

So, please help me fix this. Everything is pointless when you’re not everything.