I go in pilgrimageAcross an old fenced boundaryTo wildness without ageWhere, in their long dominion,The trees have been left free.They call the soil here “Eden”; slants and steepsHard to stand straight uponEven without a burden.No more a perfect garden,There’s an...
My idea of God is not a divine idea. It has to be shattered time after time. He shatters it Himself. He is the great iconoclast. Could we not almost say that this shattering is one of the marks of His presence? The Incarnation is the supreme example; it leaves all...
If I were going to begin practicing the presence of God for the first time today, it would help to begin by admitting the three most terrible truths of our existence: that we are so ruined, and so loved, and in charge of so little.