Creative Studio

In retrospect, my earliest religious memories were not benign ones. They were not framed in pithy clichés about love or grace or cuddly predatory animals who lost their desire to eat you. They were framed in warning. I was four years old when I first asked my mum who Satan was. It was a question…

I offer this piece in two voices: the one I had fifteen years ago, and the one I carry now. The first half is taken from a blog post I wrote as a believer, convinced of Eden’s historic value, the Sabbath, and the outward-moving love of God. I have left these words mostly untouched, because…