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Scripture, Slowly
Excerpts:
Nothing’s still scrambling to catch up.
This moment arrives because it is held, and holding.
We like to imagine beginnings as clean starts.
Sterilise and clean up. Lab conditions.
Blueprints, step-by-step instructions, carefully avoiding mistakes.
But this beginning offers something better.
Space instead.
Elbow room.
Room even for the chaos to breathe.
That kind of space, first.
And it’s there the Spirit hovers —
not bewildered, overwhelmed,
And not even impatient.
He’s there — even before anyone noticed.
Enough is enough.
After the powerful yes, his body says no.
He has called down fire and rain from heaven, but this is different. The moment has caught up with him — and all the moments before.
The mountain was one thing.
The storm another.
But now, under a tree, the will to live is ebbing.
He prays a prayer he knows he should not pray, and allows himself to fall.
Then —
sleep.
And food.
And drink.
And sleep.
And food.
And drink.
Nothing is explained.
Nothing is demanded.
The basics return him to himself.
To skin.
To hunger.
To tiredness.
To pain.
He is still a man.
And from that place — not strength, not certainty — he rises enough to go on.
Still unexpectedly soaked that afternoon, laughing,
the two hadn’t even met before that day,
and yet they’d followed through the whole journey:
Isaiah, humiliation, testimonies shared…
…and even through the waters, but then
snatched—
It was never about Philip…
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