the ancient story of life

I’m in the office working today, getting ready for a space i’m doing at the cross cultural ministry and mission retreat this week. The retreat is based around the new preamble for the Uniting Church constitution, which recognises the presence of God in the land and the practises of the first people before the missionaries arrived with their gospel.

It’s a lovely theme to work with in a space, but i confess I feel woefully inadequate for this… everything i can do is going to be ‘other’ for this group, and the things that come naturally to me, which i have confidence i do well [that would be words, mostly], are generally the least preferred medium.

Every time i try to de-abstract what i’m doing, or to reduce the number of words and metaphors, i end up making it worse.

Luckily, the group are smarter than me, so i’m sure they’ll be fine. and i already know they’re very forgiving and gracious. bloody white privilege, i hate having to take advantage of it.

Do nothing here, for a moment.

Just wait
and see if you can hear a whisper of the ancient story of life –

here in this place, since the
beginning of time,
and made real in the shape of
grace and love.

If you can’t hear the story today,

if there are parts of your life where the whisper of love is too faint,
and perhaps you wonder if you only ever imagined it to begin with,

take a handful of the salt,
and pour it back into the pile
in the shape of your prayer or lament.

If you can hold faith for another
that love, grace and life will come again
take a handful of the salt,
and pour it back into the pile
in the shape of your prayer.


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