Whatever form it takes, the movement of the soul and God is always finding its way toward freedom. In prayer as in the rest of life, it is a movement toward freedom from willfulness, from the compulsion to be in charge and the fear of loss of control. {Gerald May}

Toward freedom. Away from the addictive compulsion to hold on tightly and manhandle our environment, our relationships, our future. Manhandle God. Away from the fear of losing control.

Well, lose control, I say. Let lose of that sucker and let it run free. Control is mostly a mirage anyway. And when I exert such energy toward control, I miss the subtle activity of God all around me. I miss God in the faces I meet. I miss God in the smells and the sounds and the hopes and the longings, in the places of mystery and silence and laughter.

And in the tears. When I am bent toward keeping my life in check, then I will always miss God in the tears - because when we are addicted to composure, tears are always viewed as an enemy, never as a friend. And, of course, that lie has killed far too many a heart.

These words emerge from where I find myself today. I can not (must not) attempt to manipulate the many uncertainties of our new life. That will be death. I must be open for surprised, curious as to where and when God might reveal himself. Open. Free. Curious. Losing control.



{I reflect on this a little more and from a different angle - and tell an embarrassing bike story from last Tuesday on the Relevant blog}

John Blase is an editor for a publishing house and a fine writer. You can catch him most days on his blog. He recently wrote some kind words about Holy Curiosity.

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As an editor in Christian publishing, I read a lot of manuscripts every week. Some are handsome, some are plain, as we are. But a few, every once in a while, are good. I'd like to go on public record and say that Holy Curiosity by Winn Collier is good.

E.B. White described that pig-lovin? spider this way: "It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer. Charlotte was both." One gets that feel when reading Winn's new book.

I could go on at length about this book, but I won?t. I'm an editor. I?ve got standards to maintain. So, here's the approach of ?where 2 or 3 are gathered?:

Number 1 ? What I felt throughout Winn's book was 'spaciousness, room to grow.? In this age and day of books, most of them tell me what to think or not to think, what to feel or not to feel. Winn's words allowed me room to ponder; such as he practices, he gives to us. There was no rush to get to the point or make sure I ?get it? ? no, these pages achieved an unforced rhythm. Permission to think/doubt/and wrestle with angels granted.

Number 2 ? Winn quotes his wife and sons just as much, if not more, than he quotes Augustine, C.S. Lewis, or Bruner. Let me raise a glass to that modus operandi and declare HERE! HERE! A thread throughout this book is the necessity to keep on going; not a worship of the future, but an awareness of that's where we're headed. By paying attention (a form of prayer) to those voices closest to him, Winn demonstrates the ability to be formed by the past but not live there. No, he's living with Mrs. Collier and their two sons, now, in the present. You may not think much of this point, but I read authors every day who cram quotes from dead folks in their books like teenagers from the 60s in phone booths. It's kinda impressive at first and then it's just weird. Thanks, Winn, for resisting that temptation.

Number 3 ? A transparency exudes this book. Winn uses words like ?exude? ? so hang on. But, it's a transparency that's not exhibitionist. Winn doesn?t strip down to the buff, but he does tell us he used to part his hair down the middle and wear pink oxfords. And in the economy of holy curiosity, sometimes that's enough to satisfy.

O.k. One last word ? I was also struck by the belief that this author really loves Jesus. And that is not a slight thing. In fact, it may be the thing.

Thanks, Winn.