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Insights on Building Justice
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Plugging the Hole in Our Gospel
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When Love Demands Justice
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Marriage - Can We Have Justice Without It?
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The Chief End of Marriage
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Living Justly: One Disconnect at a Time
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Poem: Rubbernecking
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Costly Forgiveness: The Bomber and Me
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Heroes
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What Was the White Rose?
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The Bell Ringer
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The Church I Dreamed Of
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Christianity’s Third Divorce
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Finding the Balm in Gilead
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Digging Deeper: Issue 2
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Heaven in Hell’s Kitchen
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Saint Francis, the Artist
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Vera Mae Perkins
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Editors’ Picks Issue 2
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Isaiah
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Readers Respond: Autumn 2014
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Family and Friends Issue 2
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Sandpile Parenting
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Birding in the Bush
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Composting as Prayer
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We’re All Adopted
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The Economy of the Early Church
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His little religion
of common things
uncommonly loved
served him well.
Especially in Hell.
*
When the sickbed sunlight
banishes shadows
like the noontime tin
of the storm cellar door
long, long before,
he is the blaze
it takes a man to raise,
he is the stone-
stepped dark a child
goes feelingly down.
*
As if to be
were to be
by oblivion
given
and forgiven
heaven.
This poem appears in Christian Wiman’s collection Once in the West (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2014). Photo: courtesy of Ken Childress.
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