As I write this blog, I better be clear that I am writing about politics. Getting political is quintessential to the Christian experience, as far as I understand it. I also recognise that, currently, in our Canadian context there is a growing tension between our historical reality and the expectations of the Canadian government. As our denomination’s Moderator – Mardi Tindal – recently defended and replied to a government official’s challenge about the role of the Christian church in respect to the Social Good within civil society, we are called to be present in the political arena.

The tension, as far as I am concerned, requires that all people of faith – yes this certainly includes our Interfaith friends –take seriously whenever our voice begins to be categorised as a threat, challenge or critique by those who govern. There is, however, a significant distinction that I believe that Christians must be clear about, regardless of whether or not those who govern can parse it themselves.

We have, as long as we have journeyed as a Christian community, endeavoured to live counter to the cultural mores and expectations of the dominant culture: A culture often intending to encourage, nurture and sometimes impose a monotone uniformity that attempts to make sense of a human world through simple binaries of who’s in and who’s out. It is in this khaki tapestry that people rationalise violence, manipulation and cultural and racial genocide if what is abnormal cannot be moulded into the expectations of normal. What this means, in essence, is that Christian communities have actually – at our best – embraced diversity as the very gift of who we are as images of God here on earth. As opposed to creating systems to normalise and universalise, Christian experience has led us into the places of darkness that humans create. When we – as a species – are removed from one another through our systems and processes, we are able to make invisible the clearly visible harm that is expressed through social injustice, which is often grounded in corrosive socio-economic realities. Realities which – as Jesus’ challenge remains vibrant now as over 2000 years ago – ensures that there will always be those upon whose back the wealthy totter: namely the poor.

In this recognition of our faith journey, as Disciples of Jesus, is where we often find ourselves walking into the public arena, otherwise known as politics. We get political in several ways as we live out this calling. First, the very act of endeavouring to share with one another and embracing diversity as gift, not anomaly, we live out a political statement with our very lives, in our churches: whenever two or more of us gather, we are living propaganda for God’s Kingdom to Come. Secondly, and I believe this is by extension; we make choices to speak out with our voice into the public arena. Our voice is often emboldened when we see the Holy’s Creation being manipulated to harm earth, life and to diminish the dignity of our Brothers and Sisters and Interfaith friends, regardless of geography. And, I believe, this is the tension for Western Christians who benefit from an economic system that does not distribute the wealth of Creation with equality of equity. As Western Christian, eventually we will have to ask to whom does our allegiance lie? The human culture into which we have – through serendipity –been born or a God who longs for us to begin the Kingdom to Come now …

And this is the parsing that often leaves those who govern unsure as to what we want, as to our intent when our voice is spoken into the public arena. Our agenda is not – not do I believe ever has been – to replace those who govern with ourselves. The distinction is important because, when we are well and living into our relationship with the Creator, we live the Now as though the promise of wholeness has arrived. This is not an intellectual distinction; it is a point of faith. It is where words fail and it is what we do that speaks, not the volume of text we can create. When healthy and vibrant Christian communities speak into the political discourse it is to live the knowledge that diversity is good, equity is required and it happens in our faith communities Now, regardless of whether or not human culture has awoken to that equilibrium, in which all are truly welcomed at the table.

A Deacon’s Musing blog

We like to talk, we are wont to hear ourselves think aloud, and we use a lot of words in our everyday lives. We turn on our iPods, MP3 players, Netflix, YouTube and fill the silent spaces with noise and distractions. It’s part and parcel of our context. It’s neither good, nor bad: yet, it’s important to explore the need for balance when one thing is more predominant in our lives than another. The reality is we live in a fix-it, extroverted world that often does not leave space to simply be in days that moves through the continuum of joy -> challenge, tears -> laughter and happiness -> anger.

And into this human conundrum, the Christian experience names and walks into moments of illness and death. With all of our different and competing doctrines and theologies, in all of our ecumenical imagined or real dissimilarities about ideas like Grace and Atonement, liberation and exile, and who we experience Jesus to be – fully human and fully divine – we endeavour to be present throughout the full cycle of life. That cycle inevitably ends in death and, not infrequently, with doubt, anger and gnashing. And just as inevitably, it is often those of us who are left behind that must wrestle with those sweeping emotions that threaten to lift us up, unmoor us from the known & predictable: times of tempest when we are tempted into places of isolation, fear and discord.

Our Sacred Stories are filled with images of these experiences: ones that remind us that suffering, though not inevitable, is consistently present in our shared experience and journey. And in all of the tensions that brokenness and hurt bring, we are called to be with the ill, the harmed. We are invited to live out this sense of God-Among-Us by walking into places that most would avoid, would rather not experience, and would prefer to deny lest one’s own mortality be considered. We live in a human world that has sanitised the cycle of life. Whether through an idyllic advertisement, an over-the-counter antibiotic or antiseptic wipe that make everything seem to glisten with the illusion of constancy, sameness and eternal predictability, we are removed from dirt stained finger nails and the septic tanks that need emptying on a regular basis.

For all of the finery of institutionalised religion, for all of the significant social justice work before us, the advocacy that must and will occur, it is at the bedside –  in the moments when death hovers – that the Holy is clearly manifest in the heavy, sacred weight of silence. Words are saccharine when breath is shallow. Touch speaks more than poetry, and a smile conveys grounded presence in the midst of uncertainty.

In those moments of witness, when ear bends to hear the whisper of regret, an intuitive jest at the folly of it all, a message to share, that we become more than simply two people embraced in the final dance. In the intimacy of the passage of birth and death, trivialities are abandoned; the moments that hang for an eternity (when there is clarity beyond a Creed or pro-this or anti-that) where we are united in the midst of God’s presence. Where tears fall unashamedly, when grasping breath lets go the journey, death passes and at the bedside, those left behind hover and wait in the midst of the Holy …

 A Deacon’s Musing blog

Okay, I admit it … last week’s A Deacon’s Musing was somewhat of a rant. I am not apologising for The Disciple’s Path blog as much as recognising that, for some, it may have been experienced in that manner. I am also not certain that is a bad thing … especially if it has opened you up to questions, digging and perhaps reflecting about where you are and, more importantly, not only about where you might long to be, but perhaps where you suspect the Holy might be guiding you. And, to be even more pointed, where the Creator might be guiding you, but you are aware that you are – at some level – perhaps resisting …

While I was musing about this week’s blog, I have recognised that I am also blessed as I enter a Learning Circle for the Designated Lay Ministry programme of the United Church of Canada. It is both gift and honour to sit with these men and women who have responded to God’s ever-present whisper. A response that for many that means a second, third or even fourth career! A response that means learning new things, confronting assumptions and maybe even one’s own complicit connexion to human choices that hurt and harms others.

As well, as I walk into the next two weeks, I also note that I myself have gone back to school – perhaps news to some – to pursue Doctoral Studies in a topic that is core to my own Call to ministry: a journey that has and continues to find ways to address the violence that is constantly present in the realities of human choices. For me, responding to this has led me into areas of Restorative Justice and seeking alternatives to processes and systems that often leave one person a loser and another the winner; where one person is a victim, the other the perpetrator; where one is oppressed; and, the other oppressor.

The connexion between the first paragraph and the beginning of this fourth one lies in something that is echoed more and more within the circles in which I walk: lifelong learning. Lifelong learning, as a lens to understand our lives, recognises that this practice is good for us both pragmatically and spiritually. In a time and age when technology continuously reinvents itself, we are constantly forced to do things in new ways. The reality is that necessity leads us to be engaged in ongoing education. What we thought was the way to do it, really is no longer a helpful response to change. And if we are not utilising our grey matter, we can not only become obsolete in an increasingly globalised economy, we get left behind …

Obviously my own slant, however, tends toward the spiritual benefits. The opportunities that arise as people of faith engaged with learning as a discipline are many, perhaps even unquantifiable. The all-ready named pragmatic reason for embracing our journey, as a lifelong-learner, reinforces what has often been a traditional practice for people of faith. Digging into our selves, spiritual practices, faith traditions and Sacred Texts does not stop once you finish Confirmation Classes, though often it might mark a pause for many Mainstream Protestants. The pragmatic reasons for ongoing learning, as people of faith, I believe is required because the tapestry of our culture is constantly changing by the technologies that force even the resistant to learn afresh.

Consider, for instance, the following questions and tensions, which arise for us as a Christian community:

I do not purport to have the answers to these and many other questions that begin to arise as we live into a life of ongoing learning. But I do know that if we are not in fact engaged with intention upon such a path, someone else will make those decisions for faith communities and they may be decisions that stand in complete opposition to who we purport to be as Disciples of Christ …

A Deacon’s Musing blog

I was recently reading an interview with Douglas Todd in the United Church Observer. Todd is the religion reporter for the Vancouver Sun and some of what he had to say articulated well something that has been stewing for me as well:

And further on, he adds:

As I have been considering this interview, I was wrestling with my daily UCiM-ism and this was the result:

I was recently invited by some of the Young Adults at UCiM to consider offering a faith exploration opportunity during the summer. Now I’m a busy guy … my hours drop to halftime in the summer owing to the nature of my role in the faith-community and here comes people asking to learn, dig deep and explore their faith. I was not only blown away, I was … well … excited! What was and is exciting is that there is clearly a desire to dig into faith in a way that looks earnestly at a relationship with God, while not falling into the intellectual trap of literalism.

Biblical literacy – it’s lacking folks. Too often this literacy is equated with having to take the Sacred Texts as literally true, as opposed to engaging with them intentionally – seriously. How you hear these words gets to the heart – I think – of Todd’s challenge. For those not engaged in their faith, perhaps for whom the ritual of attendance is more important than the substance of the worship experience or those who have already painted all Christian communities as homophobic, gender-insensitive, judgemental and all around the last place you might actually find love, I’m likely heard as, well, reinforcing the stereotype. If I do not have a relationship with you, then you are going to have to fit me into your story somehow. Christianity has been taking a beating lately, especially for those – for lack of better language – who consider themselves egalitarian, progressive or liberal in respect to our relationship with Jesus.

Now, if I have a relationship with you or you are willing to extend me some trust, what I am trying to say is that without biblical literacy any sense of depth to faith becomes saccharine, watered-down, wishy-washy, happy feel good, cloud in the sky stuff. Jesus with the lollipop or Mary who just wants to hug everyone – imagine the Care Bears and that’s the place we end up. Without a grounding in the paradox, the contradictions, the out-right xenophobia and horrors that make up some of our Sacred Scripture, we have no capacity to offer an alternative voice in our sound-byte crazy, 35 second attention span Google-verse. And, if we do not do that work, follow that path of Discipleship, we get lost. When we finally need someone with whom to go deep, when the proverbial fan gets hit with the reality of the human condition, a Christian community is not going to be where you look for solace …

The rant isn’t that the negative stereotypes about Christian communities are actually wrong – in many (too many) ways they are, most unfortunately, right-on-the-mark. But if those who take this task seriously do not reflect back to those in our own contexts – faith communities, families, outreach ministries, friends – that we need to tread the path of knowing, exploring where we have been, then we simply lack credibility. This work allows us to claim the Christian language as one way through which someone can discuss the Divine. This stuff – life, the journey of knowing, of meeting the Holy in your neighbour – takes work.

If you want some tools and skills to articulate God in a world that hates analysis, critique or reflection, then demand it of those whom you respect. Ask for opportunities to explore your faith. And if you’re in a place, community, context of leadership in which apathy might be present, demand it as well. Discipleship is not a get-out-of-jail free card. It’s a path that leads to awakening, richness, and joy. This path hurts, you get banged up, confront control issues all the time – usually your own – but the other side of it is a discovery of humility. Of being present to the brokenness within and all around and, at the end of days, the possibility to say, ‘that’s okay. Life is a gift and I, for one, have enjoyed every moment of it.’

So … can you hear me now? Does this sound like an invitation or a burden? And, if you’re still reading, maybe – at the very least – you’ll hear it as an honest challenge … choice is yours after all …

A Deacon’s Musing blog

She loved it, couldn’t deny it, hell wouldn’t! She had loved being a Creator, and knew she would be lying to herself, and Rachael, if she ever claimed she didn’t – at times – miss the satisfaction when it worked. When that gene sequence snapped into place and the abstract art of biogineering translated into tangible existence was a … rush! She hated the word, but the mirror reflects truth, even when avoided, her Mentor always told her.

And that was it, that bloody reflection that she knew was killing … no it was devouring her essence. It was never enough. Even when she had the big one – ‘the breakthrough’ – which everyone thought was even bigger than Mirkle’s Temporal Solution, it was momentary, and left her desiring more. She was the star and from that ascended & lofty place, she had walked away.

It was hard, but not because of the loss of the rush, but because she did not know what Rachael would think. She needed her, not in a dependent manner, but they completed one another. Longings, melancholy even despair were bearable – at times almost forgotten – when Rachael held her. Whether after that moment when the Bliss eradicated the Now or when a simple touch reminded her she was not alone … she needed Rachael to not only be okay with the choice, but the move …

They looked at each other. Rachael smiled. They were okay. They had worked on the Whispering when communication was too cumbersome.

Whispering was another one of those phenomena that was revealed after Mirkle’s work. It wasn’t telepathy, which continued to elude. It was discovered to be an ethereal, even sublime, connexion. The neurology still seemed fuzzy, but essentially it was assumed that those with whom you practiced Whispering were able to connect at the quantum, the essential level, with the other. Thoughts transmitted so much data that words would never be able to convey and the Whispering threaded you into the knowing of another’s tapestry.

“We’ll go – of course Dear One.” Rachael said touching the side of her face tenderly.

She loved it, couldn’t deny it, hell wouldn’t! The suns’ dawn kissed the desert’s varied-hued red stones and in that every-morning event the crystals sang. It was like the Bliss, but it not only lasted, it resonated until the next morning’s event. This was why she left – calm. Away from the Polis, simply being, no longer a Creator. She would never go back …

A Deacon’s Musing blog

 Yes, I do admit that I’m wondering which ‘F-word’ has drawn you to this week’s A Deacon’s Musing … but that’s likely another blog, for another day. The ‘F-word’ I’d like to discuss is … feminism!

Let me set the scene as to why we’re discussing feminism. As many may or may not know, I’ve gone back to school. Recently, during one of my Doctoral Seminars, we were wrestling with the article, “’A World Split Open’?: Experience and Feminist Theologies,” by Kristine A. Culp. And – though there was much richness to the conversation – what strikes me, as I recollect, is that some people had a physically visible reaction to the word ‘feminism.’ The discussion, at times, veered away from the content of the article to how people felt about the movement in general and, in some cases, the desire to explore the option of using a different word. Even in the Learning Circle itself, I knew I was going to have to do some reflecting …

One of the things that I feel I need to make clear is that I do not presume to call myself a ‘feminist.’ I see the world through a lens of Liberation Theology. In essence, Liberation Theology analyses the world through an Oppressor-Oppressed framework: those who Have benefit at the expense of the Have-nots and often the use of force ensures that it is difficult to make changes. Feminism, in some areas, is often influenced by Liberation Theology and vice-versa. As one who clearly identifies with its intent, I endeavour to walk in solidarity with my feminist sisters!

As I attempt to walk and support the changes that feminism advocates, I’ve been trying to understand what I experienced in that Seminar. And, what I think was/is happening is the same thing whenever there is a prophetic challenge. The Prophetic Tradition, throughout our journey as a faith community, has often pissed people off, made them uncomfortable, forced us to look in the mirror and speaks truth without apology.

I have previously blogged about Knowing a Prophet, but what’s new for me is the necessity to recognise our reaction when the prophetic makes us uncomfortable! I believe that the word itself – feminism – continues to make people feel awkward. At its core, feminism is still relevant. One does not need to look outside of our Canadian context to ask why … just start looking around and it’s clear the hoped for equality, which is part of the feminist challenge, remains a goal that still requires commitment. If you’re needing more than a few words from me in a blog, here’s some homework to explore once you closed this window:

Those are just a few questions, but let me partially answer the last one for you: it is not uncommon for Christian faith-communities to close the leadership door to women. And – though the United Church of Canada has done some significant work in moving toward an egalitarian model of community – don’t be tempted to dismiss this as a gauge of what that means from a feminist critique. If Christians do not recognise that women – who make up over 50% of the human population – should have access to leadership, it seems we may very well have to both reflect and consider how we take action …

Blogs are often too short to fully explore a topic, to address all of the nuances, but let me leave you with this further connexion. The prophetic voice – in the Hebrew Scriptures – irritated people because it forced them to look at the status of women and children. If that status was life-devouring and soul-destroying, the prophets were VERY clear about what that meant for our relationship with God: it meant we were not living up to our Covenant and that, eventually, our poor choices would harm everyone, including – perhaps especially – those who were benefitting from short-sighted greed.

Feminist critiques, I believe, point us back to a time in our own Christian history, when we tried to respond to that voice: the Early Church. Before we became compromised as the religion of the Roman Empire, men and women held equal roles of leadership and walked with one another as Disciples sharing the Good News. I am not idealising the past or avoiding that it was not difficult to live in a manner contrary to the world around them. What I am saying, however, is that the prophets of the Hebrew Scriptures consistently advocated for women and children and we have a lived experience as how we might seek the balance that feminist voices continue to force us to hear … and we need to ask whether, even if uncomfortable, we are listening!

A Deacon’s Musing blog

I wrote the following poem during my recent return ‘back to school!’ During that time, we were introduced to the book, Trumpet at Full Moon, written by Paul W. Jones. One of the goals of the book is to connect spiritual practice with Christian theology and, in particular, its appropriate relationship with the Trinity. After our Seminar discussed the text, we were given an assignment to practice some of of spiritual exploration and report back with an ‘artefact.’ I chose to share my time of mediation through a poem and image from a Wordle! The poem is below in both text and with the images themselves. I pray it proves of interest!

 

 

A Deacon’s Musing blog

Recently, during one of my tweeting moments for UCiM, I wrote the following UCiM-ism:

The catalyst for this recent blog occurred during my run along the North Saskatchewan River in Edmonton, AB, while I was attending my first Doctoral Seminar at St. Stephen’s College. The run was early in the morning and the sun was kissing eastern clouds painting everything in rosy red crimson that Homer was so found of citing in the Odyssey.

On that path, as I headed back toward my Edmonton abode, there – to my left and right – were Magpies calling to one another, taking notes as I lumbered by and, contrary to what others think is possible in the river valley, I saw a coyote. It watched my advance and subsequent retreat not so much with fright, but with a feigned curiosity. In this moment of Canadian Geese migrating, ducks quacking their quack, and others passing by who wandered into the day upon that trail for various unspoken reasons, I was keenly aware of beauty.

I possess many gifts from my maternal side and one of them happens to be a family-tree. In that meandering weave, which apparently winds its way back to the 4^th Century in Syria, of unspoken stories – joys and grief, celebration and suffering – my family seems to have often (if not always) been rooted in an urban context. That did not change when my Great-Grandfather, fleeing European expansion and rising Christian intolerance from the Ottoman Empire, arrived in Montreal and continued this connexion that informs my family’s mythology.

Knowing this storied part of my family of origin, I am also aware that the enamour of the rural remains a constant counter-point in a world in which global climate change is occurring. This enamour – this romanticising – however, is not new. The Roman Poet, Virgil, is just one ancient person who waxed about the idyllic pastoral lifestyle one experienced when removed from the confines of the city. This tendency to polarise, in my experience, seems to have only intensified as argumentation from those who are ‘green’ and those who represent ‘authority,’ arrive at a place where tension and, implicitly, the potential for violence is rationalised.

In Canada, there is now pending legislation that will make it illegal for activists to wear masks. As well, environmental NGOs, which confront government policy or multi-nationals, may very well face a loss of their charitable status. And though I have some intellectual sympathy for the economic interests that governments attempt to balance for everyone and – at the same time – appreciate the intense passion of those who desire to care for Creation, the ever-increasing rhetoric has me greatly concerned. I am worried that as long as everyone is talking AT each other, lives may become literally caught in situations that will lead to an escalation from which we might be unable to disentangle.

I know I am predisposed to the idyllic or imagined potential that occurs when our creativity is allowed to spread unfettered. I do not think this polarity, binary, comparison is either helpful or – ultimately – accurate. All of God’s Creation is sacred. Not this place or that one. The problem, or such it seems to me, is that we parse, debate, find our individual passion and fail to realise that this entire sphere, planet, is an ecosystem without which we literally cannot live. Quality of life is certainly important and governments, at their best, endeavour to ensure that all have access to the tools and opportunity to better life. The voices of challenge and parable serve to create opportunity to reflect on whether current practice is best or whether there might be another way. But without a mantra of seeking balance in this grey conundrum of human ambiguity there always remains the temptation to know you’re right and I’m wrong

A Deacon’s Musing blog

 “This is bullshit!” There was less conviction this time. It had been a long time coming and the tipping point was close.

“Hello? Can anyone bloody-well hear me?” He thought he was shouting, but he was no longer certain whether his voice was carrying. It might even be possible, he considered, that his voice was so worn that he only heard himself because no one was bloody listening.

He tried to find the phone … it was somewhere nearby … that’s what he knew. Of course, as his hands slipped through that stuff that sure felt like sand, but – since his sight had failed a while back – he couldn’t be sure. He could feel the grit as he moved his hand around, slapping into the granular assumed-to-be-sand-stuff, but he couldn’t find the stupid thing! And, of course, there was something new … he thought there were a lot of new things occurring way too fast when the last thing he knew … no that wasn’t right, was it? No, the last thing he remembers before this hell was when things were going so well! And wasn’t that the point, he thought again?

He gave up, he couldn’t find it. And now, as his hand hung in the embracing grains of pulverised rock, he felt water lapping its way up his wrist. At first it did not register. It seemed that as his sight receded, so too had his sense of feeling. Touch was okay – though a lot of good it did him (he complained) in finding that stupid phone. But suddenly there was the sensation of water and he knew that couldn’t be good. He thought he would be hearing gulls flying away from the rising tide, but he couldn’t hear anything. Which, of course, led him to a moment of swearing as only he could – this of course was a surprise to many who got to know them as they walked the Walk along the way. But, lying there, it seemed that he was likely not even speaking, he was only imagining his rote reaction to losing power … instead, he realised with resignation, that he was tired …

What did it matter? He had tried to get away from the ebbing rise. Already he could imagine his arm – from below the elbow – was blue. Sure felt searingly chilled! And then there it was … what was that sound he thought? He couldn’t lift his head, nope! And – even if he could – he couldn’t bloody well see. But there was a sound … rising water? … sirens? …

Maybe he should have felt … like he had to hide again … but this was something else. Was that wind? Ah, he thought with a moment of doubt, is that a helicopter? Did they find me? Hollow joy for a moment of desire lingered for, but now seeming inconsequential … it wasn’t … mechanical? Or completely … as he drew what energy he had left, it sounded more like feathered flight dancing into a hover … and then the wind died …

A Deacon’s Musing blog

I love a good tale, a yarn that stretches and threads, which connects and binds two dimensional text into vibrant friends, cherished antagonists and, ultimately, leaves you with a longing for more as the yarn ends. I have been reading a long time. I have sought places of intimacy in places in which people walked in vacuums or hiked the splendid Elven forests where magic remains, even in its waning years. I have felt Canadian literature flow from the dystopic imaginings of Atwood to the poetry of Bronwen Wallace, which makes clear that the mundane is extra-ordinary …

And yet, in these ongoing years, as the temptation of adult-cynicism is ever-present, I notice that stories seem to lose their hold on the mind’s eye. Whereas the rich depth of the Lord of the Rings, first read at age 12, once wove a world of good and evil, a place where melancholy of friendship inspired and loss was experienced with renewal, people now seem less inclined to imagination, less willing to imagine something new, and that makes me sad …

Stories are funny things: they inspire, comfort, challenge and allow the mind to create realities that are as different as they are well-known paths from here to there and back again.

Stories are funny things: when our own reality seems impossible, where people suffer in needless situations, they can shine a light through the darkness to possibility, if only we take the time to be enticed into the potential.

Stories are funny things: they mirror our mistakes and reflect back how we might learn from them. They help us to begin to integrate harms we have caused and lead us to places of forgiveness and healing.

Sacred Scriptures (the First Testament, Hebrew Scripture, the Old Testament) and Holy Tomes (The Second Testament, the New Testament) are, at their essential core, stories. They are tales of broken people doing unexpected and marvellous things. They are narratives of the powerful and wealthy oppressing and pillaging the least in their midst for short-sighted gain. These writings, millennia old, are inspired by people wrestling with the Holy, attempting to discern how to navigate potential in a human world of mottled greyness. They are the lingering whisper of a Creator essentially bound in History sharing a longing, a passion, a desire to see us awaken to the truth that we are Beloved, exceptional in our diversity and bound to the end from the beginning!

In reflecting about stories, their import, the power to break us open to possibility and potential, it seems to me that a blog may have a role to play. It can either harness the creativity of characters navigating their way through the plot or it can reinforce paralysis. In the face of a dominant message that would rather you and I acquiesce our own agency in the tale of our collective experience, perhaps this space might ask you which character you are?

I have been thinking a lot about stories and it’s just possible some new characters may be coming to a Musing soon …

A Deacon’s Musing blog