I die small deaths with grace

I die small deaths each day.

Tiny, minute.

Until I hit that rock bottom.

And, then one day I am looking up out of






My descent into hell.

A death of my soul.

As I know it.

And, there I hold out my hand.

And, you take it.

You help me up.

Your instrument is grace.

It is only here,

that I feel your presence.

Living life in the despair.

I resurrect.

I have reached the point of no return.

And, I rise.

To a newness.

Out of my death.

My descent into hell.

The bridge to

a new thing.

From the depths,

I find your grace.

I die to rise again,

over and over.


With each descent

finding more of

my soul.

And, your endless



deep below the surface.

I die small deaths each day.

And, I resurrect.

In my small and endless deaths.


This reflection is inspired by a friend who introduced me to the Contemplative Christianity of Richard Rohr.  Today’s reading is “Grace is Key.”


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