theology of the kitchen table: fragments

Today, I'm sharing over at Deeper Story ...

I live at the end of the world now.

Small seaside town on the North Sea, which you can look out over and never see beyond the ineffable grey somewhere miles, miles away from where you stand. Does the water spill over here, cascade into space and then into the beyond, Lewis’s Dawn Treader hedging the circle of our existence?

The butcher in town knows me by name. Or, perhaps, knows me by cut. I walk in and he points out what’s new; I report what was good since the last time. The green grocer is the same, the fish monger, the cheese shop staff. We have come to understand one another in laughter and in commune.

We love food. It’s a language all its own.

I ask them if there’s something I can pray for when I prepare the meal with the food they provided me. More often than not, I’m asking God to make their tables as abundant as my own.

Keep reading, today, at Deeper Story ...

Meet Preston

Preston is a twenty-something once-upon-a-time conservative Southern Baptist from Texas who learned to read saints, cross himself, and move across the world to China, England, and Scotland. Since, he's been theologically conservative, oft politically liberal, but radically pro-life, a believer in sacraments and sacramentality, a sort-of Christian feminist, an idealist pacifist who also understands the need for civil defense ... and a handful of everything else in-between. He thinks of himself now as a haphazard and patchwork Bapto-Anglican, though he is becoming confirmed in the Anglican tradition. This blog is his repository of working this whole faith thing out day by day, bird by bird. His first book, Tables in the Wilderness, a memoir of God found, lost, and found again, is due out autumn 2014 with Zondervan.