Desire Is Not the Enemy
Desire rarely announces itself gently. It rises as a restlessness in the heart, a longing that refuses to stay quiet. And when it becomes strong—bodily, insistent—we grow uneasy. We assume something has gone wrong. Holiness, we tell ourselves, must mean wanting less. So we learn to distrust desire. We suppress it, manage it, or rush to silence it before it exposes something too deep. Yet desire did not begin as a problem. It was placed in us at creation—a thirst meant to draw us toward communion. Desire is not a command to be obeyed, but a movement to be understood. The trouble is not that desire is strong, but that it is poorly interpreted. We live in a world that treats desire like an emergency: feel it, satisfy it, immediately. Waiting is called repression. Patience is mistaken for weakness. But the body does not speak in demands; it speaks in signals. And signals ask for discernment, not impulse. Desire always reaches before it grabs. It seeks closeness, belonging, union. T...