There is, I suggest, a geography of faith.
Christian faith is neither generic nor homogenous.
Faith is always particular to place and time.

Anger, tears and resurrection.
That’s what it is all about.
Anything less is a cover up,
and cheapens death in its sentimentality.

For most of us, Wine Before Breakfast was a coming home.
But this was always “a sort of homecoming,”
a homecoming on the way,
never a settled and comfortable spirituality.