Quina Aragon

The way Quina Aragon tells it, she was never a natural-born creative writer. It was only after she encountered Jesus and surrendered her life to him during her school years that word after word came pouring out of her heart in the form of written thoughts, prayers and poetry. Since then, Quina has become a book author, editor, digital content writer and spoken word artist. Her journey into book writing started with a children’s trilogy — “Love Made, Love Gave and Love Can” — that poetically retells God’s story in the Bible through a Trinitarian lens. She also recently wrote “Love Has a Story: 100 Meditations of the Enduring Love of God,” a poetic invitation to explore God’s love throughout time and in your own life. If you enjoy written art, join us as Quina describes magical moments and meals with her Mamita, how she encounters God at the beach, how she sees Scripture as a story and the resources that feed her faith and creativity.

QUESTION #1: ACQUAINT

There’s much more to food than palate and preference. How does a go-to meal at your favorite hometown restaurant reveal the true you behind the web bio?

There’s something overpowering about those things that remind us of home — the house you grew up in, the street corner you frequented, the scent of your abuela’s favorite flower. What makes a place a home? Is it not the people who dwell there?

For me, home felt most like my grandmother’s house in Casselberry, Florida. The Puerto Rican matriarch of our large, loud and very mixed family, we affectionately called her “Mamita.” 48 Winding Ridge Road was my safe space — the place life slowed down to a sweet pace. It was where the world was right-side up again. I’d come into that little house, my cheek kissed and my nose met with the smell of café con leche.

My ears would hear the clattering of dishes, and I’d often ask her to cook my favorite meal: rice with a fried egg. The perfect meal for breakfast, lunch or dinner. Although I sometimes make it now, it somehow doesn’t taste as good as hers. Of course, she could cook a mean pot roast, a great Filipino spaghetti (sweet and tangy) and an insanely good sinigang (Filipino soup). But I loved the simplicity of rice with egg. I loved sipping my coffee with her to make kwento (conversation), talking about anything and everything on her orchid-filled porch until I’d slowly leave (with many false starts toward the front door).

What I would give to walk into that little house, bursting with love, again to share a meal with Mamita.

QUESTION #2: REVEAL

We’ve all got quirky proclivities and out-of-the-way interests. So what are yours? What so-called “nonspiritual” activity (or activities) do you love engaging in, which also helps you find essential spiritual renewal?

The best way to share with you how much I connect with God by being near the ocean is by sharing my poem “Ocean Origins”:

I don’t remember
the first time my toes
touched the elusive line
where sea meets sand.
Mom says it was Cocoa Beach
there with the whole family —
titas, titos, cousins and my lola
(you better never call her lola
or abuela, by the way
it’s “Mamita” because
she’s forever young.
don’t say I didn’t warn you.)
and that sounds about right to me.

Mom says I was wobbling my way to her
when I fell and found out
sand sticks to skin like a tan
and they had to turn away
so I wouldn’t see them giggle
at my discovery.
They weren’t cruel, they just knew me —
barely two, already very shy
“very strict” as my mom puts it
I didn’t like any signs
of failure in me
to be seen.
But despite the sandy eyes
or the time I picked up a whole jellyfish
because I thought it was “litter”
(selah)
those moments
on the shore
were shalom.
they’re scattered in the film reel of my
core memories,
little glass bottles floating
on my mind’s coast
filled with the feeling
of sweet humidity
and a salty breeze.

My body remembers everything.
there’s no number to the times
I’ve let it lead me
to the closest beach
just to breathe, really breathe
again.

They say time is a colonial construct
a history of empires burdening us
with a tyrannical need
for more and more productivity
and maybe just maybe
we should learn from the tides’
push and pull
cyclical like life
dangerous and beautiful
unrushed, unrelenting
like love.
Lately I’ve wondered how much
our enchantment with
certain types of terrain
and landscapes
trace back to where our ancestors’
feet once trod.
is it the Taino blood flowing in me
when I dance on underwater
sand dunes?
is it the Arawak Maroons
in my bones that make me
fearless of fierce waves?
is it the unknown
West African tribe
from whom my great-Jamaican-child
of enslaved-
grandma (“Ma Black Eye”)
descended, making this melanin
embrace UV rays
like a hug?
does my love
for kayaking, paddle boarding
awaken my arms in a way
only my river-dwelling Bikolanos
DNA could explain?
on my back, I let my flat feet kick
then I sink
as the water sings
welcome home, Pacific queen
of the Philippines, babalik karin
you are known, Atlantic-grown
hija querida de Arecibo,
Puerto Rico — come,
let me comb your Caribbean curls,
my Kingston girl
and whisper mysteries of victories
between bubbly breaths
let Ivory Coast dreams
sync your heartbeat
to African rhythms …

It’s not a real beach visit
if I don’t swim, float, or
(if it’s really too cold)
at least dip my toes
in the ocean
we like to pretend
is split into four or five
when it really, like me,

is one.

QUESTION #3: CONFESS

Every superhero has a weakness. Every human too. We’re just good at faking it. But who are we kidding? We’re broken and in this thing together. So what’s your kryptonite, and how do you hide it?

I sometimes — and sometimes more than sometimes — have a very hard time viewing my own story as redemptive.

In my darker moments, I find myself standing in the shadowy hallway of traumas I’ve suffered, many of which compounded just as soon as I first trusted in Christ at age 16. I hear whispers, and sometimes shouts, that I’ll never escape this hallway. I see doors open in this hallway and the shadowy figures of my reenacted traumas, the abandonments, the emotional abuse, the sexual abuse, the spiritual abuse, the overwhelming regrets — all poking out. I struggle to see any door with a bright green Exit sign.

I experience chronic nightmares, intrusive thoughts, emotional flashbacks and struggles with hypervigilance and a sense of worthlessness. I slip into dissociated states and fight/flight/freeze defense mechanisms more than I would ever want to admit to you. In those moments/days/months, I hardly hear God’s love singing over me. Instead, I hear: “You’ll never escape” and “You’re a worthless failure.” Sometimes, even: “God isn’t here. He’s not even real.”

I suffer from a mental health condition called complex post-traumatic stress disorder (CPTSD), which can develop when a person experiences chronic (long-term) trauma and stress. For most of my teenage and adult years, I assumed my intense difficulty with emotion regulation, sense of self and relationships was just a matter of being a really bad Christian. I didn’t understand how prolonged traumatic stress had affected my brain’s chemistry and nervous system. I knew that Jesus died for my participation in evil acts, words and thoughts. But I didn’t understand — at least not experientially — how Christ’s incarnation spoke to the goodness of my body, how his crucifixion spoke to his solidarity with abuse victims and how his resurrection spoke to the promise of the future healing and transformation of my damaged mind, soul, body — and story. I didn’t understand how his resurrection power, even now, includes his still-scarred hands touching my own scars, bringing life out of my worst wounds … like him.

My faith in the gospel — the good news of Jesus Christ — was genuinely real but admittedly limited in scope. For the last five years, through compounded traumas that broke me in ways I’m still recovering from, God has graciously taken me on a journey of rediscovering my own story with the help of mental health professionals, loving church community and much time spent wrestling, lamenting and learning from “the God of all comfort” (2 Cor. 1:3).

QUESTION #4: FIRE UP

Tell us about your toil. How are you investing your professional time right now? What’s your current obsession? And why should it be ours?

God is a storyteller. The storyteller. And as it turns out, “God is love” (1 John 4:8, 16). And how does he choose to show us this? Through the grand story of Scripture.

Through this story, we learn that the Creator of the universe is, at his core, covenantal. This means his aim has always been relationship. “You shall be my people, and I will be your God” is his repeated chorus. So the Bible is a story about God, yes. But that’s not all. The Bible is a story about God and us; it’s a story about God with us. Scripture is a story we’re not merely meant to read and memorize but to experience, embody and even continue.

In my very first trade book, “Love Has a Story: 100 Meditations on the Enduring Love of God,” I invite you to explore God’s love as it has existed and moved throughout and before time and how it intends to transform your own life story. I share some of my own story through poetry as well while encouraging you to consider how your life is meant to be a story about God’s love too. This is, obviously, something no mere 100 meditations could ever suitably unpack. But my prayer is that this book — whether you read it in one sitting or 100 — will offer you a bit of footing, a bit of companionship and more than a bit of hope as you traverse Scripture’s story — and yours.

This book is biblical theology meets personal story work meets your local coffee shop poet. So my question for you is: could you have the courage to believe love has a story and you’re a part of it?

QUESTION #5: BOOST

Cashiers, CEOs, contractors or customer service reps, we all need grace flowing into us and back out into the world. How does the Holy Spirit invigorate your work? And how do you know it’s God when it happens?

Years ago, at a writers’ session at a conference, I heard author Vaneetha Risner offer the advice, “Pay attention to your tears.” I have found that most of my creative writing (spoken word poetry, short film scripts, books, etc.) has come from a willingness to pay attention to my tears … and my laughs, my fears, my rage. So often, I write to survive. There is a mental, emotional and spiritual constipation that occurs within me (excuse the analogy) when I don’t write. This wasn’t always the case.

In fact, when I first heard the good news of Jesus on a bus ride sitting next to my friend on our way to a volleyball game, I was a terrible creative writer. It was after that providential moment that I began placing my hope in something greater than my fleeting sense of success. It was shortly after that night of first surrendering my life to the One who surrendered his for me that I began to write prayers and thoughts in journals. I had finally found a story in the Word of God that so relevantly engaged mine. And so I wrote, and wrote, and wrote … and out would come poetry — an unintended gift I received that has taken me places I never would’ve imagined.

An English teacher caught wind of my writing, and she insisted I memorize a couple of my poems and perform them at the slam poetry event she organized for our school. It was then, as I performed some of my first poems in front of hundreds of my schoolmates that I learned the power of paying attention — to my own tears and to Christ’s. Students came up to me in tears, impacted by my meager words.

I simply hope to keep abiding with the ultimate Author, the source of my creative energy.

QUESTION #6: inspire

Scripture and tradition beckon us into the rich and varied habits that open our hearts to the presence of God. So let us in. Which spiritual practice is working best for you right now?

I guess you can say my day starts the night before. As I head to bed, I turn on my space heater (yes, I live in Florida, but its warmth helps me ease into this time) and sit in front of it with my eyes closed. I practice 4-7-8 breaths (a habit I’ve learned from trauma therapy) to honor my body’s need to calm down. I then silently pray: “Come, Holy Spirit.” And: “Right now I feel (fill in the blank). I validate this feeling” — not because it is necessarily logical or even righteous, but because God welcomes me to bring it to him. Then, “I give myself permission to feel this feeling” — not because I want to stay stuck here but because the suppression of my emotions is not next to godliness. I suppose you can say honesty is, though. Then, I pray something like, “Holy Spirit, I invite you into this experience of this emotion. Jesus, you know what it’s like to feel (fill in the blank).” This practice allows my lived experiences to be acknowledged before God and to then be transformed by Christ’s lived experiences. I experience a fellowship with God here, asking him questions about why this situation rattled me while this other situation excited me. I sit in silence and usually doze off into dreamworld with Christ on my mind. (Not that this moment always looks or feels pretty or finds some major resolution for the chaos inside and/or outside of me).

When I wake up, I have a habit of groggily muttering, “Morning, Lord,” reminded of the psalmist’s claim, “When I arise, I am still with you.” I then sit in the same spot, pray, “Holy Spirit, come,” and crack open my Bible to wherever I left off. Recently, it’s been the Proverbs. I then get on my knees to pray The Lord’s Prayer, and whatever else may be on my heart to pray about. Then, of course, it’s time for coffee.

QUESTION #7: FOCUS

Looking backward, considering the full sweep of your unique faith journey and all you encountered along the way, what top three resources stand out to you? What changed the game and changed your heart? What radically altered your life? What changed your reality?

The most important resource that has fostered transformation has been engaging in what Dan Allender calls “StoryWork.” For me, this work began years ago with the help of a licensed counselor at a previous church I was a member of. I would highly recommend Adam Young’s podcast “The Place We Find Ourselves” as a great resource to begin engaging your own story. It’s important, of course, to have a safe, wise and trusted counselor or friend to process the things you learn and write through this process.

Other resources have been books and videos that help me understand the storyline of the Bible. My own book, “Love Has a Story,” seeks to do this. But I’ve learned a ton from the likes of Nancy Guthrie and Tim Mackie from The Bible Project.

Lastly, there’s a great TED talk called “Your elusive creative genius” that helped me embrace the discipline of writing as a practice of faith that won’t always feel like a great rush of inspiration — but sometimes it will! But the point is this: don’t neglect the pen. Show up and do the work, entrusting your efforts to our faithful Creator.

We all have things we cling to to survive (or even thrive) in tough times — times like these! Name one resource you’re savoring and/or finding indispensable in this current season, and tell us what it’s doing for you.

This may sound super simplistic, but one thing that is helping me survive in this season of parenting an 8-year-old, caring for our home, taking care of my physical health (which has been a long and tumultuous journey the last five years), engaging with my church fellowship, selling insurance and writing has been the “listen aloud” feature of the Bible app on my phone. As the coffee brews and I clean dishes in the morning, I listen through Matthew and now Mark. I 10/10 recommend listening to the Bible whenever you can.

QUESTION #8: dream

God is continually stirring new things in each of us. So give us the scoop! What’s beginning to stir in you but not yet fully awakened? What can we expect from you in the future?

Imagination is essential to our faith journey, allowing us to envision the unseen and explore the mysteries of God. As Francis Schaeffer said, “The Christian is the one whose imagination should fly beyond the stars,” emphasizing how faith invites us to go beyond what we know. Makoto Fujimura echoes this by stating, “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”

Imagination helps us engage with the beauty and mystery of God, making it a vital tool for spiritual growth, deepening empathy and envisioning the kingdom of God in ways reason alone cannot. In this way, imagination isn’t just a supplement to our faith; it is a necessary tool for spiritual growth and discovery.

In the Christian publishing world, I’d like to help fill a gap that exists by creating short, accessible, leisurely fiction reads for adults. I have been helped a great deal by fiction books that are willing to engage my humanity at a sincere and heartwarming (and sometimes heart-wrenching) level. I’d like to contribute to the many great Christian offerings of fiction, and I’d like my poetry to be a vehicle in telling these stories as a way to help us name and engage the beautiful and bewildering scenes from our own life stories.

As Quina pointed out earlier, the Bible is a story about God — but it’s also a story about God with us. She continued: “Scripture is a story we’re not merely meant to read and memorize but to experience, embody and even continue.”

Have you ever approached Scripture that way, knowing that it’s not just a story of the past but also a story to experience for yourself? How would this mindset change the way you read Scripture — and apply it to your own life?

Here’s an exercise for you, if you’re willing: sometime this week, set aside 15 minutes to read the Bible and ask God how he wants to use that passage in your life. Then, take another 15 minutes to just be silent and listen for his response.