the journey to God is a deep within slow train coming thing I am not among the folks who have experienced a profound moment — or maybe a few minutes or more — of the living God emerging seemingly out of nowhere and whisking them off to the seventh heavens, albeit for a brief visit. […]
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A mystic must let go to grow The longer I walk the path of holy fools, the more convinced I am that the mystic life is one of constant rebellion from the norms of the world. It is a counter-cultural pursuit of weakness, not strength; of poverty, not wealth, obscurity rather than fame; humility, not
Theologians have – let’s just call it – a bit of a thing for Dostoevsky. I first noticed the term holy fool in one of his books.1 These days I realize that the living Spirit has a regular habit of taking me toward that which I am absolutely intended to see. And this Holy fool
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The Age of Miracles is in our Midst The headline above is a revision of a little mantra — Gratitude is the hinge on which a sober life swings — often shared by an old sober booze-hound friend of mine many years ago. Bernie was a remarkable little man. A survivor of trench warfare in
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