The Kindness of God

Wrestling with what I know and what I hope

I suppose that eating one’s own words is a good diet for discipleship.

Two weeks ago I wrote about vulnerability in writing. My claim at that time¹ was that I feel less vulnerable about what I write, and more worried about the way in which I present my thoughts to the world. Are they perfect? Am I being clear? Is this worth anyone’s time? And the dreaded Do I have typos or bad grammar?

I wasn’t thinking about an essay I’d written months earlier. In May I submitted a pitch to Fathom Mag, and they graciously published my article this week. I feel all kinds of vulnerable about the actual content of it—the grief of losing my father, who was an atheist.

I’ve written about grief several times before, but this essay feels overtly more specific. I share it in hopes of encouraging, coming alongside, and learning with others who have lost loved ones who did not call Jesus, Lord. I share it because it’s what I needed in those weeks after Dad’s passing, when I was looking and questioning and searching for loopholes…things I suppose I’m still looking for.

What I have found, though, is the way—once again—God is making things more beautiful than necessary. All the intertwined stories, all the open doors to His kindness, the way He is ridiculously good. Grief has steeped me deep within His goodness.

That might be the main reason I’m sharing the essay.

I have a lot to say about this but it feels like I need a small space to do it in. Does that make sense? If you need a small space, too, I’d be honored to have you read this piece and come back here to talk about it, or shoot me an email.

You can read the essay here.

1. I reserve the right to always change my mind and call it growth.