“I woke this morning with the word surrender resting on my lips like a communion wafer — not yet dissolved, just held. Outside, a ribbon of gold crept along the earth’s edge. My chest felt something I have come to recognise: that particular ache which is not quite sadness and not quite longing — living somewhere between the ribs, just left of centre.”

“I have spent many Sundays wondering why the body reacts before the mind understands. This morning: warmth behind the sternum reading the Psalm, a softening of the jaw whispering His name. The body carries a wisdom older than language. Our nervous system is itself a kind of prayer — a constant reaching and receiving between creature and Creator.”

“Modern neuroscience is telling us what the mystics already knew: stillness changes us at a cellular level. Love lights up the brain like a sunrise. Grief, properly held, moves through the body like a river clearing its own bed. I am not afraid of this science. I believe God invented it too.”

“What I know from sixty-something years inside this particular body is this: every situation produces a body response · every body response is a message · every message points toward Love. Fear contracts. Peace expands. Joy rises in the throat and wants to become song. And faith — real faith, not performed faith — settles into the belly like warm bread.”

“I used to sing ‘In Your light I rest my soul’ from the neck up. Now I feel it from the soles of my feet.”