I named this blog and wrote an initial post about 18 months ago at a time when my head was in a very different place.
Back then the title alluded to a season feeling all-at-sea, reeling from the waves of life, faith and dis-location, emotionally and geographically disjointed.
The first post wasn't great. A little too moany, introspective and Debbie-downer-y to merit advertisement to the general masses, or even a follow up.
Fast forward 18 months and I'm in a different place. A new job and a new place have put me right. Or as right as I can be in the now. And a desire to return to putting pen to metaphorical paper is back.
I make no promises for a theme. What will be here is what will spill out.
On Monday that may be thoughts on a life with God. Thursday may bring insight into the life of a Dublin youth worker and the ways I'm trying to get better at what I do, while on Sunday, this may be the place where I argue for why [Marvel Spoilers Ahead] Jane Foster should have died in Act 3 of Thor 2. (She should have, she really should).
(You should know I held back from a superhero reference for the name of this blog.)
A little over a year ago The Boat Adrift meant something negative. It was a comment on the distress I felt at not understanding the big picture or the big God. Today, I don't have the answers, but I'm a few inches more willing to accept that He does.
In the words of the great theological scholar, Natasha Bedingfield, "I'm on a big big big big ocean in a tiny little boat."
I am that boat, our good God is that big [big big big] ocean, this life is a journey through and with Him and trying to trust in where He's leading.
