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About a month and a half ago, on October 18, I drove past the “No Kings” protesters along Route 4 and through my town. The gathering was entirely nonviolent—marked by humor, creativity, and quiet seriousness. As I slowed to read their posters, I was immediately reminded of the Feast of Christ the King, which we celebrate this Sunday.
Calling Christ not merely a king but the King is a bold confession of faith. It is a declaration that Christ’s way—not the world’s pursuit of power or control—is the true rule of life. And this rule extends beyond the walls of the church; it is meant to shape every aspect of how we live, breathe, and relate to one another. This is why I often speak of breathing. Breathing is the most fundamental act of life. No one has to be taught how—it begins the instant we enter the world. In that sense, it is both utterly ordinary and profoundly sacred. To live according to the way of Jesus is to breathe in rhythm with divine life itself. We do not breathe mindlessly; we breathe the Breath of God mindfully, as Jesus did. Charles Wesley gives voice to this mystery in his hymn Love Divine, All Loves Excelling: Breathe, O breathe thy loving Spirit Into ev'ry troubled breast; Let us all in thee inherit, Let us find thy promised rest; Take away our love of sinning; Alpha and Omega be; End of faith as its beginning, Set our hearts at liberty. To breathe as Christ breathed—to love as Christ loved—is to enter into his kingship: a reign not of dominance, but of mercy; not of fear, but of freedom. I invite you to read and breathe through Malcolm Guite’s poem Christ the King, allowing each line to move with the gentle rhythm of the Spirit’s breath within you. Christ The King Mathew 25: 31-46 Our King is calling from the hungry furrows Whilst we are cruising through the aisles of plenty, Our hoardings screen us from the man of sorrows, Our soundtracks drown his murmur: ‘I am thirsty’. He stands in line to sign in as a stranger And seek a welcome from the world he made, We see him only as a threat, a danger, He asks for clothes, we strip-search him instead. And if he should fall sick then we take care That he does not infect our private health, We lock him in the prisons of our fear Lest he unlock the prison of our wealth. But still on Sunday we shall stand and sing The praises of our hidden Lord and King. |
Paul"...life up your love to that cloud [of unknowing]...let God draw your love up to that cloud...through the help of his grace, to forget every other thing." Archives
October 2025
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