press in.

press in. you can press in, or you can hide. i hope you don’t pick hiding.

there are thin places in you. the places where you are stretched, or cracked, or just worn down. the places where you feel as though the core of you resides, places where you tuck your secrets and your fears. and maybe someone will ask a question, or offer a sentence, and you will feel it brush up against the thin place in you. and you will want to run from the thin place. don’t. because the thin places, i think they might be where the divine can break in.

press in. press into the thin places. maybe it all comes down to this: pressing in. not running. not hiding. sitting with. sitting in. sitting among.

faith. all the messy, middle, still-stuck-in-it, silent, lonely parts of faith. and doubt, silence, un-answers, emptiness and friendships, the good and the hard and the painful and the truth-telling and the heart-wounding of it all. broken places and healing places and not-yet-healing places and freshly-healed places. aching places and longing places and hollow places.

it’s choosing. daily. it’s waking up and choosing to press in. choosing to fight. choosing to believe.

this is what i want for you: to choose the pressing-in.

and note, here, that when i say you, i mean me.

because perhaps, the thin places in me have been brushed against lately. perhaps the doubts have been settling into armchairs. perhaps i am needing to press in.

so i am learning, slowly and unsteadily, how to choose. how to lean against the tender spots instead of turning away.

and i am seeing the beauty when you press in.

seeing the divine break in through the thin places.

and that – oh that impossibility, the divine breaking in – that is what i want to press into.

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