AfterWords | Wordplay

A short read
by Laura Boggs

Of late, I’ve allowed myself the kindness of letting go of language about God and faith that trips me up or opens old wounds. (I keep an ongoing list of words, and full confession: it’s not short.) To more fully embrace the God who looks like Jesus, who’s always looked like Jesus, I’ve been playing—dancing!—with words that heal, draw me close, and deepen my… (I’d say relationship, but that word is on the list). I suppose I’m listening to my heart’s particular version of A More Beautiful Song. God comes to us in the particulars, I think—”disguised as our own lives” (Paula D’Arcy).

I invite you to give it a go, this soul-expanding search for synonyms. Lend your one-and-only voice to the good, good news that brings you life—good news for you, those you love, those you don’t. In this practice, you don’t have to be correct. You just need to use your imagination—or reimagination. So go on, sing a love song. Compose a lament. Or, shout if you need to.

In readiness, the Conductor stands before you, hands lifted, all ears.

Abba of all,
our very breath whispers your name.
Your upside-down kingdom ways
are for here and now—
set our hopes on yours;
may our hands and feet take part.
We rely on your benevolence;
grant us your good gifts each day.
When we are a long way off,
you run, arms wide, to meet us.
Roll away the stone from our hearts
so that, even when we’re hurt,
we can mirror your mercy
and soften our gaze.
Save us from ourselves
and from the siren songs
that entrap our egos.
Yours is the beauty and the strength;
you are light and love everlasting.
You are above all, within all, beside all—always.
Amen.