Poppies Bloom at the Judgement Seat

Have you ever had a moment that felt so sacred you were afraid to write about it?

This has happened to me a few times and I know it’s a gift. Sometimes I feel like I don’t want to cheapen these holy encounters with words, I feel protective of them, of myself, really – and I think that’s okay. But something happened in my spirit in Corinth and the only way to share it is through stumbling over my words here. So I’ve sat myself down to write – finally.

It started on the bus.

On the bus ride out to Corinth our guide (a.k.a. historical genius/major/extraordinaire) spoke of the historic town toward which we travelled. He had a way of bringing these ancient places to life and our group was quite fond of him already.

Today, he spoke of Corinth. He did bring it to life – but, honestly, some of his interpretations landed harshly on my heart. The narrative being used was so familiar to me. The subtle (and not-so-subtle) ways that women were shamed (and continue to be) became apparent. The (misuse) of verses to condemn LGBTQ+ people were pulled to the surface and before I knew it my heart was racing as I tried to control my anxiousness, breathing deep, attempting to self-soothe my tired heart.

Because, really, I’m tired of this.*