faith-driven lifestyle
faith-driven lifestyle
He knows what the dream means. The answer is simple — almost insultingly simple. And that is exactly the problem. Simple answers do not earn fine linen. A retelling of Joseph before Pharaoh, and the moment he chooses to speak from the stripped place rather than perform from the robes.
Nobody tells you that saying no doesn't make the wanting stop. Joseph is in prison — stripped again, carrying grain in the dark — and his body still remembers the heat of her skin. This is not a story about a man who felt nothing. It's a story about a man who felt everything and still turned toward the door. Because his no was never an absence. It was always a yes, spoken too early to be understood.
They took his coat. Then his position. Then his freedom. Then even the memory of his gift — forgotten by the one man he'd helped. What Joseph carries in prison has no outside. No visible sign. No one to confirm it. Only a knowing he believes came from God.
Joseph said what he dreamed. The room changed. He is still not sure what he did wrong. Seven scenes from the aftermath — his father, his brothers, the woman who kept going back to the road. Open the one that calls you first.
We are remarkably confident in what we see. This week we enter Joseph's story through his inner vision — seven moments, no timeline, no chronology. An invitation to let the eyes be humbled by what the heart already knows.
Someone sticks a tag to your forehead, and you take it down, look at it and go very still. Not the label you would have written for yourself. Joseph carried one too — here comes the dreamer — from the fields of Canaan all the way into an Egyptian prison. This is the story of a gift that gets you into trouble. And of a God stubborn enough to follow it all the way down.
Every one of us carries a gift that has gotten us into trouble. This Easter, journey with Joseph from confusion to recognition — seven weeks, seven senses, from the cistern to Pentecost. Not a promise you won't fall again. A practice of knowing your own voice from its echoes.
Evening’s Sacred Dissolving I face my mirror in the evening’s sacred hush, where familiar contours of self begin to blur at the edges. Here, in this liminal light, I feel clothed with a veil...
The Weight of Morning Mist In the soft morning light filtering through stained glass, I stood at the threshold of our church, heart full of carefully crafted welcomes and thoughtfully woven prayers....
Am I worthy? Picture a lonely creature in the vastness of a cathedral, her feet making no sound on the cold marble floor. Like a scolded puppy seeking reconciliation, she inches toward the altar –...
THRESHOLD CALLING Standing at the threshold, draped in crimson silk that speaks of both flesh and life, I challenge my own assumptions: What does a woman called by God look like? This dress speaks...
Oil and Holy Water Try rolling these words around your tongue: “Independent Catholic Female.” Feel how they clash and dance, like oil and holy water attempting to mix. For some, it tastes of...
