It’s time for another purge, I wrote in July, referring to the prospect of ridding myself of writings that have accumulated since my last major purge several years ago, “to clear myself of how I once saw things, hoping to see the brand-new landscape of my existence.” Two months later, I’ve done it: blog entries, old sermons, the works.

“In both writing and faith,” Parker Palmer wrote, “we need to commit conceptual suicide again and again – if we are serious about the vastness of the treasure and the inadequacy of our frail, finite, and flawed words” (On the Brink of Everything). He was remembering that whatever treasure we carry – insight, revelation, or mere hunch – we carry in earthen vessels, suitable, perhaps, to contain our treasure for a while but not forever.

Every day, yesterday is left behind and creation is made new. It opens itself to us for new discoveries, new visions, new realities. This was the day to let go of old observations, all but a slight handful, so I might see with new eyes.