Paused but not Silenced

On February 24th, I had a meeting with the bishop that I had been praying over since my Carousel Conversations. I went in hopeful; I came out unsettled. Three weeks later, I’m still uncertain, but needed that time to pray, reflect, discern, and understand the difference between calling and institution. At least to voice things clearly and calmly. 

The meeting was strange. The bishop asked about my mental health and then my faith journey but each time cut me off. She flicked through my Carousel results but didn’t comment, like they meant nothing. She then mentioned the C4 faculty issue that requires 3 years of marriage for individuals married, divorced, and remarried. The atmosphere shifted.

A Lent Study: Week 5 – Cross

 

“He was pierced for our transgressions… and by His wounds we are healed.” (Isaiah 53:5)  

“We preach Christ crucified… the power of God and the wisdom of God.” (1 Corinthians 1:23–24)

The cross does not appear in the Old Testament, but the reality is already known. Israel knew the horror of public execution on wood, the shame of bodies displayed on stakes, and the weight of covenant curses. Deuteronomy mentions the one “hung on a tree” as cursed (Deuteronomy 21:22–23), where sin and judgment were not abstract ideas but visible realities. The prophets saw empires like Assyria and Babylon use poles and stakes to display their power, and Esther records Haman’s execution on a great wooden stake (Esther 7:9–10). These are not crosses, but the same torture seen through the cross. Alongside this, Israel carried the memory of the Valley of Hinnom — Gehenna — where child sacrifice had taken place (2 Kings 23:10; Jeremiah 7:31–32). It became a symbol of everything Israel rejected: idolatry, violence, the destruction of innocence. By Jesus’ time, Gehenna had become a metaphor for divine judgment, consequences of turning from God were imagined in fire and ruin.

FSHD: Another Misdiagnosis

At 13, one skating accident ended the thing I loved most, and I never skated again. I was gutted. However, it started my health journey. Then, at 14, came 04/04/1997.  

Polymyositis was diagnosed. A condition that, at the time, belonged to elderly women, not teenage boys. They gave me a life expectancy of two years. They didn’t understand it, but needed a box to put me in, and that was the box. So I lived in fight mode, and every boundary set, every expected but unreachable date, I blew straight past. Life kept going.