For mysterious (obvious) reasons that I can’t formally talk about yet, I’ve been reading (devouring) a lot of Rachel Held Evans’s writing, as of late. What I’d actually like to do is get her entire body of work tattooed onto my skin and wear it around, but instead I’ll transcribe my new favorite bit, and leave it Here.
Blessed are the agnostics.
Blessed are they who doubt.
Blessed are those who have nothing to offer.
Blessed are the preschoolers who cut in line at communion. Blessed are the poor in spirit. You are of heaven and Jesus blesses you.
Blessed are those whom no one else notices. The kids who sit alone at middle-school lunch tables. The laundry guys at the hospital. The sex workers and the night-shift street sweepers. The closeted. The teens who have to figure out ways to hide the new cuts on their arms. Blessed are the meek. You are of heaven and Jesus blesses you.
Blessed are they who have loved enough to know what loss feels like. Blessed are the mothers of the miscarried. Blessed are they who can’t fall apart because they have to keep it together for everyone else. Blessed are those who “still aren’t over it yet.” Blessed are those who mourn.
You are of heaven, and Jesus blesses you.