A Fragile and Beautiful Thing

I realize why for some the language of God diminishes rather than expands, why it is tied to gendered expressions of who God is, and the ways in which people have abused the way we talk about God for their own purposes.

For me, I need that language to explain the experiences of grace I have in the world. Yes, it is important to talk about who God is not – God is not those people who have used power and status to abuse others. But it is also important to free ourselves from those all-too-human and sinful understandings of God. If we don't shout about God being bigger than that, then the failings of those who have gone before will continue to perpetuate the damage they have caused for yet more generations. Whereas we have the chance to free ourselves and others from such pain and harm.

As a priest, I experience the grace of God primarily through leading my congregation in worship, and in hearing their stories of joy and sorrow in quieter conversations. When I am struggling to find focus or peace, I find both in sharing the Body of Christ with the people of God – in knowing their needs, their fears and their sorrows as they hold out their hands to receive, I feel the grace of God in being a channel for giving them the bread of life.

I think most people think that pastors are there to give the answers, but I love the fact that my life is spent listening to people trying to work out how to lead a good life, and trying to learn myself along the way. I know that I couldn't find God on my own – or rather, I would see glimpses. But by grappling together with what it is to draw closer to God, I find God in the people of God, which is the church.

This is a fragile thing, easily broken, but a beautiful thing when healthy and everyone is walking together, seeking God with open hearts.

For me, whether you call this grace God or not is perhaps more a matter of language than anything else, because whatever you call it, the presence is more real than anything I can see and touch.