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The God I believe in is genderless. She is panentheistic, immanent, in my pulse as well in the ground under my feet and in the murky watery deep. God speaks, but in a language I barely understand. She is the great comforter and is immeasurably patient, but is sneaky enough to push her own agenda.

God is trinitarian, ultimately revealing herself in relationship. She is the great revealer present in Christ and in all resurrection stories. God is life and death, strength and weakness, both/and. God is the Mater Dolorosa, embodying the suffering our choices cause eachother. God is two or three of us gathered together in love, celebration, appology, fear, in authenticity. God is me on the mountain top, bare and raw.

God is rocky mountains that are arms craddling me in saftey; God is the green grey waters that buoy my hopes and imagination; God is the limp white light of a long summer night that stretches out in direct proportion to possibility. God is Alaska, but she has promised to be more.

God is what has brought me here, to Berkeley, to graduate school, to theology. God is why I sing, for surely I should know better by now. Her foundation in my soul is why I survived 22, 23, and 24.

God is big enough for my doubt, my cowardice, my questions, my stalling, my bullshit. She can take it. God is funny and cruel. God holds all the mercy in the world. God is confusing and distant, but closer than I dare to allow myself to believe. God is a whisper in thunder, an electrical spark in darkness, an echo underwater. Mostly, God is.

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theatokos

October 2010

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