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“Honestly, it still feels heretical to even think such a thing, let alone say it aloud, but noticing the mystery and oneness already present in our world and drinking deeply of the life it offers has made the incarnation real to me in ways that volumes of systematic theology couldn’t touch.” It’s been quite the journey. For links to all of Rohr’s and @cacradicalgrace’s great resources, scroll all the way to the bottom of today’s piece. Link in bio!

And how few of those influences we would have let in if we had. #faithshift #exvangelical #guardyourheart #embodiment #boundaries #spiritualboundaries #purityculture

Anybody else struggle with an over-active inner critic?🙋🏻‍♀️ I used to think that my critic was my best guide in life, keeping me on the straight and narrow. For those of us who grew up in fundamentalist faith communities, this voice was presented as the convicting presence of the spirit of god, a perspective that's hard to shake even long after leaving an unhealthy church. That anxiety and perfectionism takes a tremendous toll on our bodies, and it can be extremely difficult to silence the inner narrative that tells us we must always try harder and do better to be worthy of love. Today I'm over at The Mighty sharing what I've been learning about countering my inner bully with truth-telling and compassion. I would love for you to join me there, and I want you to know that you're not alone in this struggle for self-love and acceptance. We walk this path to healthier inner dialogue together. 🌻 Link in bio! #cbt #cbttherapy #mentalhealth #mentalhealthawareness #excangelical #religioustrauma #positiveselftalk #embodiment #endthestigma

My new monthly newsletter *Off The Page* is in your inbox! I'm so excited about this new way for us to stay in touch - I wrote it on my couch and imagined you sitting across from me, steaming mug of tea in hand while we caught up on the news from the last few weeks. I hope you love it! (Don't see your copy? That means I still need your email!) When you sign up you'll get a special essay that's just for my subscribers, a round up of my favorite articles and tv shows, book reviews, and a preview of what's coming up on the blog. Email you can look forward to, what's better than that? Sign up link in my bio!

TFW you see your own name in your podcast feed 😮☺️🤓 I’m much more comfortable with words on a page than words spoken aloud but this experience was an unexpected pleasure, owing in large part to my dear friend and wonderful podcast host @melissasmallwood. We talked about the challenges of managing our own mental health and caring for loved ones, embodiment as a path to health, and ways that churches, friends, and families can do a better job supporting the mental health needs of those they love. You can find Melissa’s show by searching “Sharing Our Stories” in iTunes, or via the link in my bio! #mentalhealthcaregiver #mentalhealthpodcast #mentalhealthstigma #mentalhealthinthechurch #embodiment #stigmafree

Sabbath A jazz trio weaves a bright tune with upright bass and piano and drums, spilling out of the speaker on the wall and over us like a drug. Slowing. Savoring. Sunday Morning. The buttery sweet scent of a Dutch baby lingers in the air. It was my first attempt and it drove Rowan to a bowl of store brand cap’n crunch. Evelyn showered me with compliments that made me feel guilty. Am I so fragile? Does she already feel the female emotional load at age 5? A lone orange juice bottle is all that’s left on the table. It catches sunlight from the windows that look out over the dying September garden. One corn stalk thumps and brushes against the window pane as the wind lifts and drops the dried out weight. Thump. Brush. Thump. Evelyn whirrs room to room, pausing with each pass to tell me of her new project and plans for the next. She’s on her way out with water to paint the porch with chalk, then she’s back in with details about an up-do she wants me to create later (French braid with ribbons into a pony that we curl with the iron), then she’s upstairs singing to herself off key in the bathroom, then back down with a glint in her eye as she bounds off on her next adventure. All the while Rowan sits contentedly at my feet with the Rubbermaid bin of legos building small intricate worlds. I can’t finish a paragraph of my book without the interruption of another question I can’t answer about the inner life of storm troopers. But it doesn’t matter to him that I don’t know. He just wants to wonder aloud. He wants me to be curious too. I try to be. Upstairs Drew putters through his morning routine to the soundtrack of a podcast that echos down the hall, warbling the words so that all I can catch is the cadence. Long monologue, clever cohost comment, laughter, repeat. His booming laugh punctuates a long pause and I feel a smile curl on my lips too. I sit in the middle of it all, curled up on the couch with Meredith’s manuscript and a mug of tea, content save for the preemptive nostalgic longing, knowing that even an hour from now it will feel like a dream and I must capture some part of it: the smell, the joy, the golden light.

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Julianne Vantland

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