Children of Light

To be “children of light” – people in whom the gospel shines brightly – is different from being morally perfect or never failing. Any focus on perfection was an utterly false and illusory goal that made Christianity into a cult of innocence, whose adherents are so often full of blame and denial that they allow their fault to be projected onto others, unable to see similar failings in themselves.

When Jesus said we are “the light of the world” (Matthew 5:14), he said we must extend this light to “everyone in the house” (5:15) in the form of our own “good works” (5:16), not just exposing others’ bad works. But light does what light does. It clarifies, helps us see fully, and gives us the insight, freedom, and courage to perceive ourselves rightly. Divine light does not inflate us with the pride of “I know,” but illuminates those around us with the gratitude of “I am, too” – a kind of joining “everyone in the house.” Both light and love reveal not our separate superiority, but rather our radical sameness. That quality is, in fact, the way you can tell divine light from human glaring.

— Richard Rohr, The Tears of Things, p. 145-146

Photo: Tulips at Burnside Farms, Virginia, April 7, 2026

Chosen to Love

Think of the many, many stories about God choosing people. There are Moses, Abraham, and Sarah. There are David, Jeremiah, Gideon, Samuel, Jonah, and Isaiah. There is Israel itself. Much later, there are Peter and Paul, and, most especially, Mary.

God is always choosing people. First impressions aside, God is not primarily choosing them for a role or a task, although it might appear that way. God is really choosing them to be God’s self in this world, each in a unique situation. If they allow themselves to experience being chosen, being a beloved, being somehow God’s presence in the world, they invariably communicate that same chosenness to others. Thus the Mystery passes on, from age to age. Yes, we do have roles and tasks in this world, but finally they are all the same — to uniquely be divine love in a way that on one else can or will.

— Richard Rohr, Yes . . . And: Daily Meditations, p. 286

Photo: South Riding, Virginia, March 24, 2026

Be on the Lookout

My friend Mirabai Starr, a mystic who writes about mystics, says, “Once you know the God of Love, you fire all the other gods.” It is always hard for us to believe in the nonjudgmental, loving, and merciful God, and yet, that is the God we actually have.

Joel, a man who did considerable time in prison, told me, “When my toes hit the floor in the morning, I’m on the lookout.”

“On the lookout for what?” I asked him.

“For God,” he said. “God is always leaving me hints. He’s dropping me anonymous tips all the time.” This is the God of love trying to break through. This God will not be outdone in extravagant tenderness. Leaving hints as “deep as the nether world or high as the sky,” as the prophet Isaiah reminds us. We get to choose: the god who judges and is embarrassed, or the One who notices and delights in us.

— Gregory Boyle, Forgive Everyone Everything, p. 23

Photo: Great blue heron at lake side, March 1, 2026

Winning Us with Love

These metaphors do not mean that he literally took on our sin or our infirmities as a mysterious imputation or had our punishmet transferred to his person and, consequently, by his suffering satisfied the justice of God. That kind of penal suffering would only satisfy the very worst injustice. And think about it. If Jesus did take on the punishment for our sin, why would anyone need to suffer in an eternal hell? According to the penal and satisfaction theories, Jesus suffered for all humanity. He paid the price, satisfied the debt, and said “it is finished.” So it would be a grave injustice if God required two punishments for sin – one paid by Jesus and one paid by eternal suffering. Instead, Jesus took upon himself our sinning enmity by bearing all the abuse we handed ut to him. He was painfully burdened by our fallen and broken condition, and he agonized with us in the most profound way possible – he suffered on account of our sin. Jesus knows how to treat his enemies – he suffers with them (us) as a friend. He suffers all our wickedness in order to win us with his love.

— Sharon L. Baker, Executing God, p. 136

Photo: Sunrise in South Riding, Virginia, March 10, 2026

Relentless Love

Jesus has no doubt about the salvific efficacy of the cross. Ultimately it will drag all people to himself. Does this imply that salvation is forced upon us through overpowering coercion? No, I don’t think so. Saving grace can always be resisted by a rebellious will. Rather, I think this has to do with the utter relentlessness of the divine love seen in Christ upon the cross. The gravity of grace is always pulling upon us. At any given mment we can resist the love of God, but, as Psalm 136 says so relentlessly – twenty-six consecutive times – “His steadfast love endures forever.”

From the cross of Christ there emanates a tractor beam of steadfast love that pulls upon all people. At any given moment any given person can resist it, but how long can a love that endures forever be resisted?

— Brian Zahnd, Wood Between the Worlds, p. 91

Photo: Cherry blossoms, South Riding, Virginia, March 28, 2025

Believing in Love

I don’t think I’m at death’s door, but I find myself assessing things I believe as I inch toward that door. I believe the following things:

  1. God is in the loving.
  2. God IS inclusion.
  3. Demonizing is always untruth
  4. We belong to each other.
  5. Separation is an illusion.
  6. Tenderness is the highest form of spiritual maturity.
  7. “Kindness is the only non-delusional response to everything” (George Saunders).
  8. Love your neighbor as you love your child.
  9. We are all unshakably good.
  10. A community of cherished belonging is God’s dream come true.

For what it’s worth, this book just wants to lure us to embracing God’s heart and punto de vista. It proposes a mystical view that perhaps can lift us above those things that keep us apart. Nobody VS. Anybody. God’s dream come true.

— Gregory Boyle, Cherished Belonging, p. 12

Photo: South Riding, Virginia, January 26, 2026

God Didn’t Make Me to Hate Me.

So how do we melt away the fear?

I believe it begins here: by looking at the heavens, and looking at the dandelion in the cracks, and looking at scripture, and looking at God, and trying an older and wilder way of trust. It begins by saying: God did not make me to hate me; God made me to love me. God made me out of desire. God made me out of joy.

— Rev. Lizzie McManus-Dail, God Didn’t Make Us to Hate Us, p, xiii

Photo: Shadows of tree branches on frozen lake, South Riding, Virginia, January 30, 2026

We’re Not Merely Tolerated.

God’s love results in invitation, welcome, and unification – a shared Life – where disgust would allow only for violent rejection. All of that might sound like condescension, and certainly there is a robust Christian tradition encouraging us to embrace humility and to understand ourselves as utterly dependent on God’s grace, but in fact there is nothing of tolerance or condescension in it at all. When we operate out of Love, the whole higher/lower distinction dissolves and disgust is destroyed, killed, and reborn as its own opposite: the longing for unity. God will not tolerate union and shared life with Their creation for even a single moment because tolerance is far too weak to bridge the gap. God desires, embraces, died for, and delights in, union and a shared Life with Creation. We are not tolerated by the Divine, we are celebrated. Love is the only force in existence which could possibly bridge the infinite Gap between creation and Creator, but Love will have nothing of gaps at all; what Love wants is unity with the Beloved. When Love acts, the gap is not bridged but erased. The father in the parable of the prodigal son does not condescend to or tolerate his son; the Father runs to him, embraces him, kisses him, and throws a party. Lovers delight in their union.

— Paul Hoard and Billie Hoard, Eucontamination, p. 175-176

Photo: Shadows of tree branches on snow, February 14, 2026

My Wild Mediocrity

God, give me satisfaction in the trying.
Give me joy in the never-quite-there.
Grant me peace in my unsettled heart
for my wild mediocrity.
Help me smile back
at the truth that no one,
not one, knows perfection but you.
And you already looked at this
messy creation
at the beginning of time
and pronounced it pretty darn good.

— Kate Bowler, Have a Beautiful, Terrible Day! p. 79

Photo: South Riding, Virginia, January 26, 2026