MSI Press Blog

  Recently,   Spiritually Homeless  (Girrell), reached   #187 in mysticism and spirituality and #219 in faith and spirituality. Book description: Many have walked away from organized religion not out of apathy, but out of honesty. Still the spiritual hunger remains; the longing for community and a place called home persists.  Spiritually Homeless   offers a deeply compassionate and practical guide for those navigating spiritual life beyond church walls. Whether you left organized religion years ago or never belonged to some sect to begin with, this book will meet you right where you are. Through stories, reflection, and decades of experience in spiritual leadership and psychological insight,  Spiritually Homelesss   explores how we find belonging, create ritual, face the dark night, and rediscover awe—without needing to return to doctrines that no longer fit. keywords: spiritual hunger; spiritual seekers; leaving organized religion; life beyond ch...

  For Her: The Awakening Beneath the Roles She was the strong one. The caregiver. The planner. The one who held it all together. She knew how to anticipate everyone’s needs, how to smooth over conflict, how to keep the peace. But somewhere along the way, she forgot to ask herself: What do I feel? And then, one day, she did. Maybe it was a quiet morning alone. Maybe it was a book that cracked something open. Maybe it was the realization that she’d spent years translating everyone else’s emotions but never her own. She didn’t expect the rush. The grief. The anger. The longing. The joy. The strange, beautiful mess of it all. But she welcomed it. And she’s still learning. Learning that her feelings matter. That she doesn’t have to earn rest or justify sadness. That her laughter, her rage, her tenderness—they’re hers. Not borrowed. Not hidden. Not postponed. She’s not late. She’s finally home.   a post inspired by  Learning to Feel  (Girrell). Book Description:...

  For Him: The Late Bloom of Feeling He spent decades mastering control. Stoicism was his armor. He knew how to fix things, how to provide, how to endure. But feelings? Feelings were for later. For quieter moments. For someone else to name. And then, one day, the armor cracked. Maybe it was grief. Maybe it was love. Maybe it was the quiet ache of watching his children grow into people he barely recognized. Maybe it was the silence after retirement, when the noise of purpose faded and something tender began to speak. He didn’t expect the flood. The tears that came unbidden. The memories that stung. The joy that felt too big for his chest. He didn’t expect to feel everything he’d been holding back. But he did. And he’s still learning. Learning that vulnerability isn’t weakness. That naming a feeling doesn’t make it louder—it makes it bearable. That the heart doesn’t age the way the body does. It waits. It remembers. It forgives. He’s not late. He’s right on time.   a post...