Jesus Christ

Throughout my “bible-thumping, smitten with God” years, I scribbled countless thoughts and prayers in four devotional journals. Recently I came across these journals, wiping away the years of dust accumulated. As I have been detaching from the Pentecostal god, it was a painful, downright mortifying experience to read through my past communication with god. This god seemed so foreign now given my liberated, enlightened, evolved self. I remember writing to and about Him, but I couldn’t help thinking how dysfunctional and convoluted the language I used really was.

I love you Father. Take me…surrender me to your will…your ways. Let me not lean on my own understanding and foolishness.

Mary Daly in Beyond God the Father advocates, “Time to go beyond God the Father. Don’t you see? If God is male, then the male is God. Reclaim the right to name your self, your world, your God. The liberation of language is rooted in the liberation of ourselves. Be a wild woman…God is not A Being. God is Be-ing.”

Many social scientists contend that language is the foundation of our socially constructed realities. We use language as a creative tool and guide to frame our perceptions of the world around us. We also use language to create our own unique creative expressions. That even though we share and appropriate from the accessible pool of creative expressions, each individual designs and discovers their own true form. Continue reading “The Mosaic Language of God by Andreea Nica”

Growing up in an agnostic family in 1950’s Britain, I did not hear religion discussed. So it seemed odd that my parents sent my brothers and me to Sunday school. At home, as I was battling my father’s constant criticism and jealousy towards Eric, my younger brother, learning about Jesus thrilled me. Jesus seemed to love and value young children – what a hero!

Moving to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, in 1962, deepened my faith. At Nazareth School for Girls, I practised Catholicism, recited the rosary, and devoured books about female Catholic saints. But the American sisters taught that our bodies were impure, not healthy; lustful thoughts about boys were wrong, and husbands were masters. Worst of all, heaven didn’t have any animals. To an innocent girl, God was now judging and condemning. I was very confused. Continue reading “In Dreams I Trust by Annette Allen”