tday at church, the pastor spoke a sermon called, 'the problem with truth'.
as he spoke, something about it deeply resonated with the first professor I ever had at college.
I remember sitting in that class, feeling like a nobody & having the following reflection:
it was like my faith was a room.
A room that was perfectly decorated.
Beautiful and welcoming.
And then God came through like a tornado.
He over-turned things and was smashing stuff and ripping up my couch cushions, until nothing looked like it once had.
Then, he left.
And it was up to me to sit in the middle of the room and begin sifting through stuff.
Seeing if I could recognize anything or pieces of things.
If I could remember the true things,
and finding truer things along the way.
So I'll stay right here...sifting...for as long as I have to.
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