Burning incense with new friends

A scientist, a schoolteacher, and a grocer walk into an empty room... It sounds like a joke, but it's actually the beginning of a Christian poet's society.

Some members at our very first Easter Triptych gathering.

Dear Readers,

This local writer’s group is so new it has no name. So, let me tell you the story of how it came to be.

The seed was planted this January, when I read an essay called “Incense on the Mountain.” The author critically examined the grooming of Ivy Leaguers for prestigious but useless work and used the metaphor of cooking aromas to describe work that is truly life-giving. She wrote about how life-giving work necessarily happens at a small scale through vocations like motherhood and helping people in your local community. This spoke to me (since you all know I have some issues with the perceived valeu of motherhood), and I immediately admired the author for her honesty.

So, naturally, I Instagram-stalked her. It’s common for me to Google writers I admire, but it’s less common for me to actually get the chance to meet them. Imagine my surprise, then, when I found out this woman lived in my very own town. Being the fearless cold-emailer that I am, I messaged her excitedly out of the blue inviting her to dinner. We hit it off immediately, and when we found out our 25th birthdays were just a week apart, we threw a joint celebration. Her name is Allison, and she’s living into her essay by aiming her law-training towards rural Vermont—and hopefully becoming a mother. You can find her on Substack at Allison in Wonderland, where she writes about law.

Anyway, a month after our initial meeting, Allison texted me with an idea to gather some writers together and celebrate Christ’s resurrection with our creative work. At about the same time, my writer friend Rachel (on Substack at Ewe and Shepherd) expressed the desire to form a publication of our own. Our combined dreamings materialized in “Easter Triptych, a 2024 collaboration of local Christian writers.”

When I began my freelance writing efforts, what fueled me was faith that if I used the abilities God had given me, something good would happen. I never imagined the good thing would be this group. God drew it from the spaces between the interlocked fingers of his people. And I’m glad. He takes one worshipful writer (or two, or three), plants her in the ground, sends some rain, and then harvests ten more.

My favorite example of God’s firstfruits in this brand-new group is this: One of my mom friends, an environmental engineer by training, is secretly a phenomenal poet. Her work brings me to tears of tenderness. But she has never shared it. Now that she’s supported by other Christian writers, she is gathering the courage to publish her poems, a task not for the faint of heart (as you can read about here).

A different but equally astonishing example of God’s hand at work is how I met another one of our contributors, a man named Malikie. One blustery Tuesday, I ran into a man and his two daughters in an empty park. It was strange that the park was empty. It is the most popular playground in our town, and usually it’s crawling with children. Since we were the only people there, we got to talking, and soon we were talking literature and church. He said, “When I saw you with your daughter, I knew you were a Christ follower." Malikie is a dad in his 30’s, who works as a grocer and is discerning ordination in the Anglican priesthood. Now, he’s contributing his creative gifts to our group.

One other notable place I see God is in the diversity of the group. The seven participants in our group represent four different churches—two evangelical churches, an Anglican Church, and a Roman Catholic church. We write a motley combo of poetry, nonfiction, and scifi.

We are also weirdly diverse by woke standards. A DEI administrator would thrill at our demographics. Half of us are men, half women. Our collective ancestry includes Europeans, Africans, and multiple varieties of Asians. And unlike the DEI admin, we didn’t plan it that way. I take our serendipitous diversity as a reminder from God that he asks for tribute from every corner of the world. He enjoys it all—from Japanese hip hop (shout-out to Mose) to cowboy ballads. Male and female. Gregorian chant. Protestant pop.

We are all here to worship. That is our divine purpose. And when we accept it and fill our pens with holy ink, we, in turn, are filled with life.

So, let us share our joys and fears and infant drafts aloud in church basements and municipal parks. “Like fragrance, they can only be enjoyed in close proximity with those we love” (Incense on the Mountain).

xo,

Amelia

After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, “Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!”

Revelations 9