To a Feminist Theologian

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The invitation
“Be a risen woman”
Writ large on the page,
I began to read.

To read intellectually,
To discern your theology,
Your truth,
To test it against mine.

But it didn’t happen like that.

As I turned the pages,
My heart broke inside me.
I began to bleed.

Your poetry reached out,
Touched me, in a way
I had never been
touched before.

It told of my hurt.
Of deep, unspoken sorrow,
Of hidden longings,
Known only to God.

But also to you.

I wept.

I wept, and into my tears,
Came Christa.
Blurred at first,
Then more real.

As you pictured her
more clearly,
So did I.

Your words wove
a wisdom
I knew not;
A cradle for my sadness –
A safe space.

From this space,
With Christa beside me,
I can begin to reveal who I am
In God –

And to be a Risen Woman.

 

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