after R.S. Thomas How close do you feel to God? asks the priest. As I sit with my back to the altar, God answers for me. He throws open the locked doors of my heart, turns the heavy ring of the handle, lifts the stiff catch, takes my breath away on the swing of smooth hinges, lets in the air that is everywhere. God isn’t arriving nor leaving, through this four-chambered porch under my ribs. He is the opening and the door—the push and pulse, of whatever moves through me the whole red messiness of love.
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