To Care and Not to Care

  You know that term? "Drag-a-body" friends? "Ride-or-die" friends? The friends that stick with you when something horrible happens. Recently, a dear friend of mine brought to light a shift in perspective about this term. And it's not surprising, as she is a friend who shares the same Well Spring of Life as me. That's what happens when you reach the end of your rope, when your light goes out, when you throw your hands up in the air and curse God - God shows up. The Three-In-One, Creator, Crucified One and Spirit, crack open that stony heart and a spring of life starts bubbling out. Kind of like when God told Moses to strike the rock in the wilderness to get water for the Israelites you know? If you want it, you can have that too. The best part is, not only you come to life but you aid in others coming to life too. I love the picture Hannah Anderson paints in her rich book, Turning of Days - Lessons from Nature, Season and Spirit. She says, Jesus says that th...

Turn it and turn it, for everything is in it. Look deeply into it, and grow old with it, and spend time over it, and do not stir from it, because there is no greater portion. -Rabbi Ben Bag-Bag What's it like to be something that never dies? Your pages have been banned, burned and buried Only to be found again and again and again. Bedside table drawers in dark motels It's drawers can barely contain your light Words etched on prison walls live on to set the captive free. Your words pierce through history and time all the while holding history and time in your pages. What's it like to be something that's so hated and argued over? Misunderstood and misused. Do you mind? God, do you mind your breath being strangled? What's it like to be something that's so alive that all the wrestling and dissecting and sifting only makes you come more alive Your words are a bottomless well, pearls of great price, seeds to be found in the d...

 On this day before I turn 38, I sit on a bench absorbing the sun, the wind, the water, the birds, the buzz of the leaf blower in the distance. I withdrew from the world for a bit to this monastic place to empty out. How can I sum up this last year around the sun? It was a fast and slow one. My hands let go of the merry-go-round eventually. Someone else, or Something else was spinning it. Was it our own wailing that kept it going? Multiple times throughout this past year I tried to grasp one of the bars on this merry-go-round. Sometimes I succeeded and rode it for a awhile, but I got dizzy and fell off. I fell off a lot.  I look and see the soil beneath me. It's a little dry and needs watering. Down here, the wailing is quieter, less invasive. I start to notice. I start to see the cracks that are thirsty, the weeds that need pulling, and the areas that need sifting. (Even the Earth groans in our ravage consumption and the sins of our forefathers continue to be reaped). It's ha...

Lately I've been drawn to poetry. It's this way of communicating something deeper, something happening under the surface, under my skin. It's not analytical or argumentative. It's an experience and often quite personal. My spiritual mentor told me once that I could try writing poetry as a way to release control in my life. Journaling had begun to feel like work, like writing complete sentences was too much for me. Sometimes just words, on their own, are written down and maybe they can go together.  Anyway, I've been trying this lately and it's really helped me process things and know what I think. I also think it's pretty cool that over a third of the Bible is written in poetic form. Maybe God wasn't trying to argue His way into our lives. Maybe He was just trying to say that He loves us. So when I was asked to describe how my understanding of the Christian life has transformed in me over time, I wrote this in my journal: My understanding of the spiritua...

Dear twenty-year-old me, Oh how I want to shake you and rattle you, wake you up // You're too influenced by others Speak up! Why would I say what I really think if it'll just be squashed? You see, for twelve years I had to ask permission to speak. Cubicles and flags and star charts and memory verses and uniforms and children's minds silently  buzzing questioning swirling. Just figure out the right answer The one that will cause the least amount of disruption. Put on your pretty face and straighten that cross-bow tie and don't forget to mind your elders. Anyway when I met her that freshman year on that college campus,  I want to put my arm around you and protect you. I want to whisper to you that you don't need to rescue to be seen. You see, I was addicted to following the rules and being the good one, I listened and listened and listened. I ate and ate and ate until I couldn't any more. You mean to tell me there's nothing I can do to make Him love me? (Pleas...

She asked me, "And where do you see Jesus as you wrestle with yourself?' In the tears, and the anger, and the fear of losing control I took a deep breath and said, Near me. He's near. I had been wrestling with old versions of myself for a while now. Old versions and the same old message of a legalistic gospel used for personal gain and the improvement of myself. New life was being born in me. Christ's hand was at my back and at my front, all the while holding me firmly here and now. An invitation into servant leadership for the sake of others. I was falling out of old skin used for protection power security affirmation love personal gain And into skin made new. The old ways of how the name of God were used to control me fell by the wayside. And in the wake, my heart batted open and His Spirit said I am here, Take comfort. Rest in me. I have overcome the world. I am doing a new thing. Is he doing a new thing in you too? How beautiful He is making us to be.  The Wrestle ...

It's hard to pick out the "highlights" of this year, so I thought I'd write an ode to the year. It's all a bit of a blur, but here we all are. Ben and I, Amos (who just turned 5) and Nathanael (who just turned 3). Lindsay, our housemate (who just turned...j/k). At times we make the best of it, other times we don't. And that's ok. For the beauty of the earth, how she groans as if in birth. For the beauty of the skies, sparrows meet our eyes. For the love which from our birth, we are shaken into this groaning earth. For love over and around us lies over and around us lies. Our train of life comes to an abrupt halt, redirect. Where? How? Now? Lord of all to thee we raise this our hymn of joyful praise. Where is this "joy" you speak of? Look for the pain, and there you'll find it. How time has alluded us, tricked us. For the beauty of the hour, of the day and of the night. Time deepens in this moment, in the great generosity of the flower, and th...