“Fashion is a fickle tyrant that rules harshly over what Taste alone should govern. 

She imprisons the slender woman in a huge hoop skirt and burdens her with heavy ornaments, 

though she knows she would move more freely, look better, and spend less in a simpler dress. 

Fashion may command her to cut off her beautiful hair and look like a schoolboy, and she obeys without complaint. Winter comes, she is cold, 

yet Fashion orders her to leave off half her clothes and stay out half the night. 

She complies, even at the risk of her health and life. 

Much more could be said of this tyrant, but we have said enough for now.”  

Anna Laetitia Barbauld

"I believe a huge part of the church in recent days has focused too much on the academia part of Scripture…

Who by doing so have inflamed their heads rather than their hearts, and thinking that by the Scriptures alone, through the letter of the law,

they would find life…"

I can't recall who said that but I think it echoes Jesus in John 5:39 -

"You search the Scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; it is these that testify about Me;"

John 5:39 has been interpreted in different ways, and the commentaries reflect a variety of opinions.

But when I read it, I see a warning that can apply to those who diligently study the Word of God, yet fail to carry its spirit into the world by seeking to imitate the deeds and compassion of Christ.

Like the Pharisees, they may have the holy, life-giving Scriptures stored in their minds, yet overlook the humanitarian work of the heart.

They search the Scriptures for truth, but may fail to let that truth move through their hands, their feet, and their lives— loving the forgotten, comforting the suffering, and serving those in need.

If you notice on his notebook under "Bible Study" he lists "Read, Study, Understand, Teach. But the one thing needful he neglects is -- ACT. 

 

"My mother is no longer the terror or trouble she used to be to my younger self. 

I have come to see her small suicides, her death-defying leaps, her dragging her sons into the depths, her tragedies and triumphs in ways that only years of loving and living can help me interpret.”

"I share this because I talk with so many who carry intense childhood adversity, and my hope is that this quote offers something to hold onto: what once looked like ruin can, in time, be recognized as a woman swimming as hard as she knew how, in water she never chose to enter. 

That understanding doesn't excuse the depths a mother may pull her child into — but it can be the difference between drowning in them and finally coming up for air. If you are still there, in the cold of your own childhood, know this: understanding does not require forgetting, and peace does not require pretending. It only asks that you keep living long enough to see the whole shape of the story — and to write, at last, your own ending."

The Holy Ache – Epithymía

She was there

when the ruach (breath,Spirit) of God

stirred the dust,

a whisper of desire,

a holy ache,

woven into the soul.

Before the fall,

before the shame,

before the grasping,

there was longing.

A pull toward the Other.

A hunger not of lack,

but of love.

In the cool of the evening,

they walked with God.

Naked.

Unashamed.

Every ache was an invitation.

Every desire,

a direction.

But we forgot.

We traded wonder for knowledge,

mystery for mastery.

We left the garden,

not just with thorns in our heels

but with a dislocated hunger

gnawing in our bones.

Now,

we chase shadows in neon temples.

Scroll.

Swipe.

Consume.

We feed on illusions

and call it satisfaction.

Even our prayers feel

packaged.

Predictable.

Safe.

We do not wait anymore.

We click.

And so desire,

that once holy ache,

becomes compulsion.

We light incense to the

gods of dopamine

and name it freedom.

We ask the algorithm to soothe us.

We drink,

not because we thirst,

but because we cannot bear the silence.

But still,

something stirs.

A deeper ache,

a quieter hunger.

It comes in the stillness,

between breath and breath,

between grief and grace.

It comes when the addict

lights a candle instead of a pipe.

When the lonely one

lifts bread to her lips,

not to fill the stomach,

but to remember love.

Every ache is an altar.

Every hunger,

a bell,

calling us not to indulgence,

but to the slow Eucharist

of being known.

We lift our hearts.

We bring our ache.

We say with trembling lips:

Lord, I am not worthy,

but only say the word.

For this is no shameful thing,

to long,

to yearn,

to ache.

It is the soul’s memory of Eden.

It is the ember of glory

still glowing beneath the rubble.

And so I offer this ache

not to the market,

not to the screen,

not to the dragon

in the pixel,

but to the One

who kissed dust into life,

who became flesh

to bear our ache in his own.

O Beloved,

I have desired with desire,

not always rightly,

not always gently,

but I bring it now

as offering.

Let it burn holy.

And one day,

when time is torn

and all things made whole,

when the ache gives way

to the Answer,

we will feast.

And longing will sing.

And the fire of our ache

will become

the flame of communion,

joy without end.

—

Holy One,

in the depths of our restless longing,

teach us to hold desire with grace,

not as a hunger that devours,

but as a flame that illuminates the path to you.

Turn our compulsions into worship,

our restless ache into patient hope,

our shadowed cravings into the bright fire of love.

Come, kindle in us a desire for justice,

a yearning for mercy,

and a holy ache for your kingdom.

Until that day when all longing is fulfilled,

walk with us in the silence between breaths,

and let our hearts be restless only for you.

Praise be to you,

Jesus.

Creation groans.

Our hearts yearn.

For your return.

Amen.

Rev’d Jon Swales, 2025

I've never forgotten a fella from my high school days. He drove a flashy red muscle car with mag wheels, a competition rake, and all the bells and whistles. To look at it, you would have thought it was the fastest car in town. But when you popped the hood, there sat this tiny little engine that a kid on a fast Schwinn bicycle could probably beat!

I can't help but see the spiritual parallel.

A flashy gold cross around the neck. “I Love Jesus” bumper stickers. Quoting Scripture like a verse-a-blender. Greeting everyone with a loud, “Hey, Brother! Have you got the victory?”

But then draw back the curtain on the inner life, lift the hood, and what do we find?

Snakes. Scorpions. Pride. Bitterness. Lust. Greed. Hatred. And all manner of darkness slithering and crawling beneath the polished exterior.

The outside may look like a spiritual muscle car—but God is not impressed by the chrome. He looks under the hood.

"Years and years and years ago, when I was in college, 

there was a stunning, beautiful girl I often watched from afar. 

She was a quiet beauty, with a powerful life. 

She had such a gracious spirit for life.

 

When I finally had the opportunity, 

imagine my surprise to find that she was deaf. Not that deaf women aren't beautiful, because they are, 

but because of the way she stood 

in her beauty, unfazed by that different circumstance of her life. 

Would that I could have snipped a petal of a soul 

so content in how God had made her, 

in His perfection, not her own, I would have done so. 

It became one of the lessons I did 

not squander.

I found the beauty and fragrance 

that weeps joy 

and plays the music of God.” Ann Stewart Porter.

I love to hear about people that are gracious, self-possessed with a strong but humble dignity. I was struck by the last line – “I found the beauty and fragrance that weeps joy and plays the music of God.” 

What does it mean to “weep joy?” 

I asked A.I. and this is what it said – 

"Given the next phrase, “and plays the music of God,” I think the author may be describing a beauty that is deeply spiritual and emotionally overwhelming—not merely cheerful, but so pure, tender, and radiant that it brings one close to tears and seems to participate in something divine."

 

"I shall speak forth my sentiments freely and without reserve.

This is no time for ceremony or political correctness.

The question before us is one of extreme importance for every Christian.

For my own part, I consider it as nothing less than a question of freedom or slavery.

It is natural for a person struggling with addiction to indulge in the illusions of hope.

We are apt to shut our eyes against painful truth,

and listen to the song of temptation—the promise that this one more drink, one more pill, one more indulgence will bring pleasure or relief—until it transforms us into slaves.

Is this the part of wise men and women, engaged in a great and rigorous struggle for freedom and eternal salvation?

Are we supposed to be among those who, having eyes, see not, and, having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern our temporal and eternal salvation?

As for me, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost,

I am willing to know the whole truth;

to know the worst, and to provide for it through the precious blood of Christ.

Don’t allow yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss.

This is the lie of Satan: promising pleasure, comfort, or escape, but delivering chains.

Evil is crouching at the door and waiting for us! It may be in these very streets, in our homes, on our phones, in our medicine cabinets, or hidden in the secret places of the heart.

The enemy wants to bind and rivet upon us those chains which he has been so long forging.

There is no longer any room for false hope. If we wish to be free—

we must fight! I repeat it: we must fight the good fight of faith!

An appeal to the full armor of God and to the God of hosts is all that is left us!

They tell us that we are weak, unable to cope with so formidable an adversary.

But when shall we be stronger?

Will it be next week, or next year?

Shall we gather strength through uncertainty and inaction?

Shall we prepare ourselves by lying lazily on our backs and hugging the delusive phantom of hope—telling ourselves that we can quit whenever we please— until our enemy has bound us hand and foot?

Brethren, we are not weak if we make proper use of those means which God has placed in our power.

We must pray, watch, confess, seek help, remove temptation, and call upon those who can stand beside us.

We shall not fight our battles alone.

There is a just God who presides over our destinies and who raises up friends, family, brethren, counselors, and fellow soldiers to fight beside us.

The battle is not to the strong alone;

it is to the vigilant, the active, and the brave.

It is now too late to retreat from the contest.

There is no retreat into addiction but submission and slavery!

Our chains are forged!

Their clanking may be heard outside these doors and throughout our city!

The war is inevitable—and let it come!

I repeat it: let it come.

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me!

People may cry, “Peace, peace,” telling themselves there is no danger, that they are still in control—but there is no peace.

The war has already begun!

What is it that we wish?

What would we have?

Is life so dear, or temporary pleasure so sweet,

as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? 

Forbid it, Almighty God!

I know not what course others may take;

but as for me, give me liberty—or give me death!"

 

"Indeed, every person, in every condition, is great.

It is only OUR diseased sight that makes him seem little.

A person is great simply as a human being,

whatever or wherever he may be.

The grandeur of his nature renders outward distinctions (color, race, sex) insignificant.

His abilities to think, follow his conscience, love, know God,

appreciate beauty, govern himself, influence the world around him,

and affect the lives of others—

these are glorious gifts given by God.

The common lights of reason, conscience, and love are of greater worth and dignity than the rare endowments that bring fame to a few.

He who possesses these divine powers of the soul is a great being, whatever his station.

You may clothe him in rags, confine him in a dungeon,

or chain him to slavish tasks.

But he is still great.

You may shut him out of your houses,

but God opens to him heavenly mansions.

He may make no show in the streets of a splendid city,

but a clear thought, a pure affection,

and a resolute act of virtuous will

possess a dignity far higher than all the accumulations of brick, granite, plaster, and stucco, however skillfully fashioned

or how far they stretch beyond sight." William Ellery Channing. 

 

"Because the Holy Spirit lives within you,

His leading may sometimes feel surprisingly natural.

A Scripture comes back to you,

something you were comfortable with suddenly troubles you,

you see a situation differently,

or a quiet conviction keeps coming back to your mind.

And because it can feel so natural, your first reaction is often,

“Was that Him, or was that just me?”

So how do you know?

Think about a stranger talking to you in a coffee shop.

You may hear them for five minutes

and forget their voice by tomorrow,

but if your spouse, parent, or best friend says one word from another room, you know exactly who it is.

Why?

Familiarity, not volume.

We assume God needs to speak louder.

In reality, we need to become more familiar with Him.

Now, this doesn’t mean every random thought in your head is the Holy Spirit.

Anxiety talks.

Fear talks.

Ego talks a lot.

Old wounds can also speak so convincingly that we sometimes

mistake our deepest insecurities for spiritual discernment.

So the real goal is not to look for a special feeling.

It is learning the character of the Holy Spirit well enough

that you begin to recognize

His sound,

His tone,

and His texture.

Think about getting a message from someone you have known for years. Even if their name appears at the top of the screen, you can read three sentences and think,

“No, that doesn’t sound like her.”

You know because you know the person.

You know how they speak.

You know what they would never say.

You know the kind of response that fits their character

and the kind that immediately feels foreign.

Jesus gave us that kind of pattern for the Holy Spirit.

He said the Spirit would guide into truth, remind us of what He said,

teach us, and glorify Him.

So we are not guessing in the dark when we try to discern His leading.

This is where Scripture is very important.

It’s not about reading chapters so God will be impressed.

Scripture gives you repeated exposure to His character until you begin recognizing the way He speaks, corrects, comforts, confronts, and leads.

That is why Jesus could say,

“My sheep hear my voice.”

A shepherd does not need to shout louder than everything else in the field. The sheep recognize him because they have stayed around him long enough to learn his sound." 

Ellis Enobun.

 

"To return to the character of our Savior:

His great work in the world was to teach.

Yet He did not present His instruction as a systematic code or abstract philosophy, nor in vague or ornamental language.

He spoke directly, practically, and precisely where truth was most needed.

As the great reformer of His age, His strongest words were aimed at the abuses and corruptions around Him.

He confronted prevailing sins,

fashionable worldly attitudes,

distortions of Scripture,

and attempts to evade known duties.

His teaching arose from the occasions before Him and therefore spoke directly to the lives and consciences of His hearers.

Had He merely delivered orderly lectures on morality and religion,

the Scribes and Pharisees might not have opposed Him.

But He did more: He exposed corruption.

Therefore, we should not expect the scattered discourses and conversations preserved in the Gospels to form a complete legal or systematic code.

Jesus generally referred to laws already known, seeking instead to restore their true spirit and elevate the motives for obedience." Alexander McLaren. 

"So often an encounter with another person leaves you shaking your head. Different personalities, learning styles, thought processes… and then there's that healing thing.

Many people have never even considered healing.

Others carry their wound like an old friend,

one that invades every circumstance.

Some are so attached to their wounding that if they sense you might take it from them, you'll get the message fast.

If you hold onto pain without ever doing the work to heal it,

expect turbulent relationships.

You'll filter everything through that pain —

misreading people,

overreacting,

getting triggered by the smallest things.

You won't always know why.

We don't relate well to others when this is where we live.

Refuse to heal, and you'll keep reliving the wound, over and over.

That's how addiction cycles persist.

With God's healing so available to us, it's sad watching people let pain reign over their lives instead.

It's costly — so many blessings missed, so much joy lost.

Relationships are hard enough on their own. Now try communicating through a wound that's never healed —it's like trying to see the world through a patch over one eye.

You're missing part of the picture, and it's costing you.

Why would anyone choose that?

Because they've been deceived into believing life will always look the way it always has.

They can't see that change is possible — and precious.

But here's the truth: healing is a gift.

It opens doors to deeper growth and joy.

Yes, it's hard — often brutal, soul-level work. But when you consider what it can do for your marriage, your children, your work, your friendships, it's worth every bit of it.

I've seen it firsthand — people who doggedly pursued healing, and now their spouses, children, friends, even employers say how grateful they are. You would be too.

So if the challenges feel overwhelming and the excuses are exhausting, choose healing instead. See the world through a new filter.

It's time. Your life may depend on it." Ann Stewart Porter. 

  

I ran across a new word, or term — "liminal space." I read up on it and learned it means the space between beginning and ending; a threshold between who you were and who you're becoming.

That intrigued me because I often feel like I'm in a spiritual liminal space. What I love most about walking with Christ is how He brings me to places I've never been. He never allows me to take up residence in complacency; I'm always on the threshold — between who I was and who I'm becoming, what I know and what I don't, who I think I am and who I really am.

A spiritual liminal space is the sacred threshold where one life has ended, another has not yet begun, and the soul must learn to stand in the uncertainty between them. It's often an uncomfortable place because we naturally want clarity and resolution. Yet it can also be a place where old illusions fall away, faith deepens, and a person learns to trust God without yet knowing where the path will lead.