Sometimes I think we sing “A Mighty Fortress” with such stern bravado because we are afraid
of how the hands that stretched out the heavens and ordered the stars curled into tight baby fists,
of how the Spirit that once hovered over the waters tucked into a teenager’s womb,
of how the voice that separated night from day cried out for the breast.
Sometimes I think we are less afraid of a powerful God than a vulnerable one.
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