Too long we have mistaken darkness for the enemy of the Light, when it is in darkness that light finds its source. The Light is never extinguished. The Light cannot die for it is cradled within the womb of Wisdom herself, from where it is birthed unborn, begotten as that which has no beginning, conceived as the Inconceivable Everlasting Light. This is the balance of all that is, the origination of meaning and being in that which seems harmful or unpleasant to us. It is only upon the canvas of sorrow that that which we call joy can paint itself with our tears.
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Thirty Days with Mary Magdalene
SpiritualThirty Days with Mary is a month-long series of daily reflections originally published on the Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter pages for this website. Due to the positive social media response to the series, I have decided to include it here on the...
