What if, in hindsight, the director's cut of your life reverse engineers your current grasp of common sense.

Oh, those helpful calligraphers. They always get in the way when you're trying to build a raft.

News stories and memories colliding around rollercoasters, circuses and empty church buildings. Outrageous, glorious, both?

The kinds of questions around mystery that end up drifting because they're not allowed to land — in this lifetime — without permission.

The way I think about things like this — like Hezekiah's story — is like walking around a shed filled with metaphorical mechanisms. But then, my grandfather was a toolmaker.

Taking something or someone seriously means not hoovering in front of the football, and saving their drafts from the bin. And other things I've learned.

Preaching through philosophical thought experiments, or just pondering? Toning it down, hyping it up — what's going on with my writing, I wonder aloud.

My website looks quite standard until that menu item — Stage Door. It's what happens with a literary imagination birthed in Bible and Bagpuss.

Am I alone in finding everything I encounter brings up a thousand other things? Now apply that to reading the Bible. I know.

Just an average writing day, but genuinely finding my private thinking interrupted by questions about how that might seem if said aloud.

What happens in the space where faith, muscle memory, and a Bible story meet — this day. Or Thursday…