Poetry

Art, Faith, Music, Poetry, Singleness

All existence is a long advent


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I’ve written of life as a ‘long defeat’ in the past but maybe a ‘long advent’ is the other side. Here are a few links from the web. A great post on why Christmas is precisely for those who hate it most: In the irony of all ironies, Christmas is for those who will find

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Faith, Poetry

Something for Sunday


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There’s a wideness in God’s mercy I cannot find in my own And He keeps His fire burning To melt this heart of stone Keeps me aching with a yearning Keeps me glad to have been caught In the reckless raging fury That they call the love of God ~Rich Mullins Snitched from this post,

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Creation, Poetry

Will I come again?


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I’m all talk and no action about blogging, this I know. So many things I’d like to read and write about … As for reading, the novel I most recently finished was All the Light We Cannot See, by Anthony Doer. I was slow to come to this one, and even slower to actually read

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Creation, Poetry

Sounding far above our strife


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Poems are coming thick and fast, but this one is so magnificent I simply had to share. It’s flowing along the same vein as Wendell Berry’s of Sunday (though it takes us rather out of desolation), but how splendid is the fourth stanza? I love that. Found in an old book of George MacDonald’s Poetical Works

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Poetry

Our want affirms abundance


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Here’s another Wendell Berry poem. It echoes the idea from CS Lewis, that it’s in our desires that we know there must exist something that can fill them (even if it’s not in this world). At times I feel such a yearning for life to be so much more than it is, so I remind

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