ISSUE No. 4

Clerestory

A clerestory is a window which allows light and air into the body of an old building. Clerestory Magazine stories and storytellers are like windows through which the pain and beauty of the human experience shine.

The Clerestory Podcast S1 E16

In the Apple's Ripening
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These photographs and prayers were prompted by a woman whose faith surpassed a great many difficult and painful things. A woman who was accidentally named for a flower of faith. After the passing of Iris we remembered her through her bedside scrolls. Promises of the Lord that she delicately plucked out daily with tweezers harnessed to the tiny box. After all, what better evidence of God than the resolute faith of others.

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Unfold in me a trust in you Lord.

Unfurl my tightly coiled reserve, and remind me daily to love properly.

Openly.

May hope, and trust, and love, and faith bloom inward from seeds long forgotten.

I have prayed for faith to drown my fears. I gasp for hope, sopping wet.


Will I never walk upon this water?

Today’s offering of wilted faith, this is all I have. Let it be enough.

Would you build in me a love for your church? Would it be a dwelling in which to house peace? Would you quiet my anger and turn me towards action? I have steeped in frustration too long.

Let there be joy in your word. Let light shine through brittle pages. Let there be a hope in the breadcrumb trails of your message. Let me understand something of your grace.

Would the ancestral husks of those who came before, leave traces of reverence in their bones, that we might find a rich history of your love in those we knew.

It seems an impossible request to ask for joy in the face of such suffering. Health in the time of this virus. But you are God of the impossible, and I am asking.

Thank you for women. Esther. Mary. Deborah. Cain and Abel’s sisters. Woman at the well. Noah’s wife. Lot’s wife. Pharaoh’s daughter. Hemorrhaging woman. Samson’s mother. These nameless women. I am there. We are all there in those pages with Jesus himself.

My heart is a home for many deceitful things.


I pray for faith to grow even in the smallest cracks, in the spaces reserved for fear.

I am here for the wisp of smoke, the turn of the page, the loose thread.


The most fleeting sign of hope is enough today.

Let the light in.

Libya first encountered God as a teenager at a Baptist church at 15 years old. She now identifies as a non-denominational Christian. Libya enjoys robust discussion about faith, as well as reading novels, and rooibus tea.

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