Wednesday, December 21, 2011
The quiet scares me, ‘cause it screams the truth.
~ Pink, Sober
Simplicity and sobriety are hand-in-glove.
I, being a lover of fun and silliness, am using a less stale & serious definition of sober, choosing the following qualities: practicing moderation or self-restraint; refraining from excess or overindulgence; calm, quiet, composed; rational, realistic; free from exaggeration or speculation.
When you practice sobriety, it’s not that you never indulge, but rather that you exercise restraint – knowing your limits and the effects on others.
When you practice sobriety, it’s not that you are never boisterous, but you also do not fear silence and solitude, recognizing that quiet moments can feed the soul.
When you practice sobriety, it’s not that you never contemplate the what-ifs in life, but you don’t allow those prospects to anxiously control your present experience.
We all have our strengths, our preferences, but just as introverts need community, extroverts need solitude. It may take a bit more effort if it is not the environment that energizes you, but it is necessary to keep your spirit in balance.
Sobriety is recognizing when you are isolating and need to get around people, to practice community.
Sobriety is also recognizing when you are spending too much time in the company of others because you don’t want to have to sit with your thoughts – to listen to yourself, to listen to God.
Sobriety is recognizing when you are dragging your feet and it is time to act, to take a chance.
Sobriety is also recognizing when you are rushing around doing everything you can to keep from being still and abiding in the Spirit.
Sobriety is living in reality – reality of your situation, reality of your resources, reality of your life.
When we practice sobriety, we are freed to practice simplicity because we are not trying to bury reality under piles of material, emotional and spiritual stuff.
When we practice simplicity, we are freed to practice sobriety because we are throwing aside those things that keep us from seeing the path we’re on as it actually exists.
It’s a chicken-and-egg scenario, really.
So, as we inch closer toward the celebration of Christmas, as the winter solstice ushers us into the path that leans day by day toward light, in the waning twilight of Advent, may we take an honest look at our lives, a deep breath, and a heartfelt prayer, and may we step forward in the joy that each day is enough.
Monday, December 19, 2011
A few weeks ago, I was snuggled up on the couch with my Mom watching a Hallmark Christmas movie starring Kristie Swanson, the ORIGINAL Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Swanson portrayed a single mother at the end of her rope, doing the best she could to provide for her children and keep some joy in the midst of their less-than-meager holiday season. Early in the movie she was in a rush to get to her job and get the children ready for their babysitter when one of the kids asked for something to eat – I can’t remember, maybe a pizza or something delectable. What I do remember is Swanson reaching into the cabinet, pulling something out, and exclaiming joyfully & wide-eyed: “We’ve got ramen!”
My mom and I lost it with laughter, tears rolling out of our eyes, breathless from the humor of it all. My stepdad stared at us in justified confusion. The children in the movie were not impressed. They groaned. Seriously? Ramen? Could life get any worse?
My mom and I laughed because we knew there was truly life after ramen. That there was even, hard as it was to be believed, life WITH ramen. Even ramen back when it was 12 for a dollar. Even ramen when it had to be split three ways because pay day was still a day away. Even ramen when the DOG didn’t want to eat ramen anymore.
Now, the reason I was watching this movie with my parents is that I am back living at home, diligently paying down my debts. Somewhere between ramen, student loans and financial independence, I lost track of what it looks like to live within my means.
Not that I was living extravagantly, mind you, but a month would get tight and I’d put some necessities on my credit card. Clothes wear out, and a modest shopping spree would go on my credit card. A well deserved vacation to visit a friend who lived far away? You guessed it, on my credit card. An unexpected vehicle expense, an unexpected move, an unexpected fill-in-the-blank… on the credit card.
As I was living in community, I didn’t quite notice how much I had become a slave to the credit cards and their debt interest until I was faced with the need to live on my own again, and I realized, while possible, it would not be very practical. So, here in my 30’s, I returned home to free myself from debt’s chains and learn once again what living in simplicity looks like.
Excerpt from Richard Foster’s Freedom of Simplicity:
Contemporary culture is plagued by the passion to possess. The unreasoned boast abounds that the good life is found in accumulation, that “more is better.” Indeed, we often accept this notion without question, with the result that the lust for affluence in contemporary society has become psychotic: it has completely lost touch with reality. Furthermore, the pace of the modern world accentuates our sense of being fractured and fragmented. We feel strained, hurried, breathless. The complexity of rushing to achieve and accumulate more and more frequently threatens to overwhelm us; it seems there is no escape from the rat race.
Christian simplicity frees us from this modern mania. It brings sanity to our compulsive extravagance, and peace to our frantic spirit. It liberates us from what William Penn called “cumber.” It allows us to see material things for what they are – goods to enhance life, not to oppress life. People once again become more important than possessions. Simplicity enables us to live lives of integrity in the face of the terrible realities of our global village.
If simplicity were merely a matter of externals, things would be quite easy. We would then need only to formulate the system (no small trick to be sure) that defines the boundaries – Christian faithfulness would allow us to live in this income bracket but not that one, to purchase this house but not that one. We would have a clearly definable arrangement, even if it would need periodic adjustment to keep abreast of inflation. It would be clear who is in and who is out, who is faithful and who is not. Presto, a new pharisaism. Very fine, thank you.
Sometimes I genuinely wish it were that way. And I have no desire to speak disparagingly of the many groups who have developed such systems. In fact, I envy them at times, because the clarity of that approach has immense power to motivate and change behavior. But as we all know, its end result is bondage and death. The letter always kills; the Spirit alone gives life. Gospel simplicity gives freedom and liberation.
The outer expression of simplicity must flow from the inner resources. It is learning to walk in the Spirit that builds the life of purity, unity, and grace. There is an inwardness that is central to our task; without it all is lost. We delude ourselves, however if we think we can possess the inner reality of simplicity without its having a profound effect upon the way we live…
Life is a journey, and we are often not at the wheel of control.
Mary certainly did not anticipate the sudden changes that came into her life, and the journey that laid ahead.
The more stuff we have cluttering up our lives, the less ready we are to keep moving along the journey – especially when change and chaos and transition come on the scene.
Old blog post from Dave Bruno, 3 Consumer Justifications That End in Crap:
There are at least three excuses those of us with too much stuff use to justify our excess.
It would be wasteful to get rid of it. Uh, no. It was wasteful to get it in the first place. Now it’s just plain stupid to allow it to keep cluttering up your life. What’s wasteful is the mental and physical space that the stuff you don’t need and don’t even want is taking up. Stop wasting your life. Get rid of the crap.
I might need it someday. The moment this justification passes your lips you know it’s not true. Seriously. Here, try this experiment. Go into your garage, find that box you haven’t opened in a decade, dig inside of it, and pull out that graphing calculator. Now go stand in front of a mirror and, speaking out loud, convince yourself that you might need it someday. Liar, liar, pants on fire. Get rid of the crap.
It has sentimental value. Then why did you bury it in the closet? Besides, you don’t even like the uncle who gave it to you. The nostalgia you’re really missing out on are all the good times you could be having if you weren’t constantly reshuffling stuff inside your garage and closets. Get rid of the crap.
One thing is for sure. If you use these three justifications to keep loads of stuff, at the end of your days you are going to have, well, loads of stuff. Do you want the end to be filled with crap? Purge the things that are messing up your house and dominating your material and spiritual space. Then go live a joyful life that blesses others.
We are all at different places in our journeys, and we all have different amounts of stuff. Some of us are good at keeping the clutter at bay. Some of us are drowning in projects. Others of us can fit our possessions on our backs.
As Foster alluded to, the “crap” in our lives that we need to get rid of, is often internal.
Maybe we’re holding on to or storing up material stuff because it is filling an internal need we have not addressed.
But even if our internal struggles are not linked to external indulgence, they can still weigh us down.
What are you storing up?
What is weighing you down?
What is holding you back?
What do you need to release for your heart to be open to change, to transition, to the unexpected?
Is there hurt, bitterness or resentment for which you need to offer forgiveness?
I don’t ask that lightly, because I know it is a difficult process – but it is one I have walked through and would be willing to talk with any of you about. When we refuse to forgive – when we refuse to release the hold another person has on our life because of the pain they have caused us – we are the ones who carry the burden.
Are there unrealistic expectations you have for your life or someone else’s that you need to let go of?
Life has to be lived in the here and now, as it exists. That doesn’t mean we have to give up hopes or working toward dreams – but we can’t live in that place – in how life should be or how life was. Simplicity asks us to live life in the reality of now.
Are there anxious thoughts you’re storing up because they give you some level of control? Let them go, and be willing to take your journey one step at a time.
What are you storing up?
What is weighing you down?
What is holding you back?
What do you need to release for your heart to be open to change, to transition, to the unexpected?
(click through to listen to Madison Greene's Departure)
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
In short, two angels come to the city of Sodom to warn a man named Lot that God is going to destroy the place, and that he and his family need to leave. Lot shows them hospitality & invites them into his home to stay the night. All the men of the city show up in a mob outside of Lot’s home and demand he send the visitors out so they can rape them.
Then, one of the most disturbing speeches in all of scripture:
“No, my friends. Don’t do this wicked thing. Look, I have two daughters who have never slept with a man. Let me bring them out to you, and you can do what you like with them. But don’t do anything to these men, for they have come under the protection of my roof.” (Genesis 19:7-8)
Look, angry mob, I have two virgin daughters – you can do what you like with them…
In my last blog post, I highlighted how women who may not have been up to “True Love Waits” sexual purity standards played a significant and integral role in the incarnation story.
In this post, I’m mourning how little value has been placed on women through history, and specifically their ownership of their bodies and their sexuality.
But the story of Saint Nicholas tells a vastly different tale.
It is said that St. Nicholas, an orphan to whom was left much wealth, used some of his inheritance to save three women from a life of slavery to prostitution. Their father was poor, he had no money for a dowry, so the women would be unable to marry. If they could not marry, they would be sold. The legend goes that St. Nick tossed bags of gold through the window of the home until each woman was assured in marriage.
Sure, it is still a story of women being bought and sold, but in this case - a dowry for marriage places greater honor on the woman than being sold into sex slavery.
These days, women are still being bought and sold – pieces of property of little worth to society. It’s not just in other countries, it’s not just in bigger cities, it is happening in our own backyards.
As we celebrate St. Nicholas on his feast day, may we lift up prayers for victims of sexual abuse and human trafficking. May we explore ways we may have a hand in supporting organizations that work to alleviate sex slavery. And may we look at ways that we can speak worth and love and joy and peace into the lives of individuals we encounter every day. May we take the time to remind them they are wonderfully made in the image of our Creator, and no one has the right to do with them what they please.
(IMAGE: Masaccio - St. Nicholas Saving Three Sisters from Prostitution)
Thursday, December 1, 2011
~ Ani DiFranco, Blood in the Boardroom
Abraham was the father of Isaac,
Isaac the father of Jacob,
Jacob the father of Judah and his brothers,
Judah the father of Perez and Zerah, whose mother was Tamar,
Perez the father of Hezron,
Hezron the father of Ram,
Ram the father of Amminadab,
Amminadab the father of Nahshon,
Nahshon the father of Salmon,
Salmon the father of Boaz, whose mother was Rahab,
Boaz the father of Obed, whose mother was Ruth,
Obed the father of Jesse,
and Jesse the father of King David.
David was the father of Solomon, whose mother had been Uriah’s wife,
Solomon the father of Rehoboam,
Rehoboam the father of Abijah,
Abijah the father of Asa,
Asa the father of Jehoshaphat,
Jehoshaphat the father of Jehoram,
Jehoram the father of Uzziah,
Uzziah the father of Jotham,
Jotham the father of Ahaz,
Ahaz the father of Hezekiah,
Hezekiah the father of Manasseh,
Manasseh the father of Amon,
Amon the father of Josiah,
and Josiah the father of Jeconiah and his brothers at the time of the exile to Babylon.
After the exile to Babylon:
Jeconiah was the father of Shealtiel,
Shealtiel the father of Zerubbabel,
Zerubbabel the father of Abihud,
Abihud the father of Eliakim,
Eliakim the father of Azor,
Azor the father of Zadok,
Zadok the father of Akim,
Akim the father of Elihud,
Elihud the father of Eleazar,
Eleazar the father of Matthan,
Matthan the father of Jacob,
and Jacob the father of Joseph, the husband of Mary, and Mary was the mother of Jesus who is called the Messiah.
Thus there were fourteen generations in all from Abraham to David, fourteen from David to the exile to Babylon, and fourteen from the exile to the Messiah.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
from Marilynne Robinson's Housekeeping
Monday, November 28, 2011
~ Madeleine L'Engle, Redeeming All Brokenness
Sunday, November 27, 2011
the bitterness and the gall.
I well remember them,
and my soul is downcast within me.
Yet this I call to mind
and therefore I have hope:
Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
I say to myself, “The LORD is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him.”
The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him,
to the one who seeks him;
it is good to wait quietly
for the salvation of the LORD.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Listen to this song:
Said & Done by Speed the Plough
Think on these things:
Having no destination, only this will to wander, we move slowly. What’s more, Wendell announces that in response to our culture of instant messaging, he has just founded a new cause, the Slow Communication Movement. Certainly we embody that spirit today, and it feels good. It is a more leisurely, more deliberate form of communication, and it isn’t limited to 140 characters.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
Invitation Into The Contemplative
Tools for Prayer
Review: At the Still Point
And lastly, a personal observation:
Love, Grace, Hospitality, Holy listening: the threads that tie my passions together. I’m recognizing this more & more, and learning that they have to be rooted in rest and trust, in confidence and not in control.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Before burning bush
That do not consume
But slough away
Layers of flesh
And lust and pride
Until all that remains
Is the inner core
Who I was created to be
Burrowed in cave
Turn of the wind
In the silence
And let yourself
Abide in the Word
Will abide in you
And once I waited
I hadn’t to wait for long
Now I wait
Wait with the patience of Job
The rooted tree
The clinging vine
Bears no fruit
The tended crop
Fails to grow
Yet I will rejoice
Yet I will trust
Yet I will listen
Incline your ear
Come near to me
I am thirsty
I am hungry
I am poor
Are not your thoughts
Neither my ways your ways
You are everlasting
But a breath
Yet you formed me
You knew me
You know me
Be with you
When you pass
Be now my refuge
In the midst
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Both of the gatherings we have had were significant times of coming together, of breaking bread and sharing hearts, of nourishing foods and nurturing words, and humor, sarcasm, messy realness and lightened loads. Each gathering has called us deeper into community, into each other’s lives, into a practice of relationship building that is simply not possible during a few hours on Sunday morning.
Both of the gatherings were unique. While the first gathering was packed with preschool parents and little ones in tiny chairs abandoning plates of food for playtime with friends, many of those families were unable to attend last night. Their presence was certainly missed, but in their place appeared families who had not made the first gathering, families of older children and emerging youth, families who were interested in investing in relationships with these pre-teens and teenagers. I could not have planned it better if I had tried to control the guest lists, tried to map out a strategy.
Both of the gatherings were similar, as well. What came out of both, and of our times huddled in the kitchen, gathered around the dining table, curled up on living room furniture, is an understanding of the deep significance of moments like these – moments of relationship. The greatest desire expressed for our preschool and younger school-age children was that they would build significant relationships with each other, with adults in the church, with their families – that they would feel themselves to be (that they would be) a vital part of the fabric of community. The greatest desire expressed for our youth, our pre-teens and our teenagers, was the same. We want them to seek together, to create together, to serve together, to learn & grow together. And overarching those desires was an understanding that we must model those relationships – we have to be intertwined in each other’s lives, not as busy-bodies, as community. Certainly stories will be shared, topics will be taught and lessons will be learned – but it is the relationships and the conversation that make those lessons significant and that invite all ages to share insights and ask questions.
As we opened the second conversation, I shared a passage from The Art of Christian Listening by Thomas N. Hart as a form of prayer, and I’ll share it again here. I think if we can soak in the significance of listening & loving to others, we can begin to grasp a little more the simplicity and significance of those great commandments to love God & love others:
A helper is, in the first instance, one who agrees to listen. Anything else that may happen in the relationship will derive from this. Listening to another may not seem like much, but its effect happens to be very therapeutic. Everyone yearns to be heard. But so many cannot find anyone who will listen, or do not trust most people to be able to handle what they really need to say. So they come to you.
Listening is not always easy. It takes time, and the time might be inconvenient besides. It demands really being for the other during that period, fully present and attentive, one’s own needs and concerns set aside. This is exciting. Listening might mean being afflicted with the most profound sense of helplessness, having the springs of sorrow touched, seeing one’s dearest convictions called painfully into question by the experience and testimony of another. The person may not be attractive, might be telling a dull and too oft repeated tale, might be making mountains out of molehills, might be demanding and even manipulative. These are the hazards. Nevertheless there comes to me a human being whom God created and loves. There comes a sister or brother for whom Christ died (Rm 14:15). There enters a suffering fellow pilgrim. The first thing one consents to do is to welcome and listen. It is an act of love…
The helper does not always solve the problem or take the pain away. But he or she is friend and resource, to explore with another, to watch another with concern, to listen and respond, to be available…
To listen attentively to another and to go with another in companionship are expressions of love. To do either without love is an empty gesture and bears no fruit. The helper loves the other. Now there is no greater thing we can do for another human being than to love him or her. We touch here a truth just large enough to be easily overlooked. I am supposed to be a Christian helper, so I snap to attention. I put on a hat. I will be a sterling model of the Christian life, a shrewd analyst, an expert advisor. I will also develop a pep talk. These things have their place, but to put them first is to mistake the lesser for the greater. The most helpful thing one human being can do for another is to love him or her, and this is as valid for helping relationships as for any other kind.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Last night I enjoyed a lovely dinner with friends: food, hospitality, laughter, listening, communion and confession. Somewhere amidst our discussion of the stability of spiritual disciplines versus the chaos of spiritual emotions, I was reminded that this Sunday the Church will celebrate the feast of Pentecost.
Whereas the season of Advent ushers in the celebration of Christmas, and the season of Lent ushers in the celebration of Easter, the celebration of Pentecost leads us into the season of Ordinary Time.
Ordinary Time certainly isn’t the sexiest season in the liturgical calendar. Rather than building up to a great experience (such as the birth or resurrection of Christ), it flows from an experience and permeates our everyday lives. It calls us not to a magical crescendo, but invites us into a deep, daily observance of abiding in Christ and community.
As we shared stories and struggles and relaxed from our meal, I briefly related to my friends that this upcoming liturgical season has grown very important to me over the past several years, and I dare say it has become my favorite.
The Christian observance of Pentecost is intrinsically linked to the Jewish feast of Shavuot, which started last night at sundown. Shavuot commemorates both the first fruits of the wheat harvest, as well as the word of God given to Moses on Mt. Sinai. It is an opportunity to both enjoy and express thankfulness for God’s provision, as well as a celebration of covenant and community, a celebration of God’s presence coming to dwell among us.
For Christians, Pentecost is the fulfillment of God’s indwelling presence. The Word that was and is and is to come had become flesh and dwelled among us, teaching us what love and grace and forgiveness and mercy look like in practice. Jesus taught us that if we abide in him, God’s spirit will abide in us, and we will bear the fruit of that relationship.
After Christ’s resurrection, the disciples came together to celebrate Shavuot, to enjoy the first fruits together in God’s presence. It was during this observance that the Holy Spirit, the counselor and comforter and presence of God, was poured out upon human hearts, and the community that is the Body of Christ was born. This community was to be the presence of God’s kingdom on earth as in heaven, the embodiment of God’s love, grace, forgiveness and mercy that Christ introduced us to.
And it is in the upcoming season of Ordinary time that we get to focus not on waiting for God to break into time, or on waiting for Christ to redeem the world, but on celebrating the fact that God has come, God has redeemed and is redeeming, and God is present in and through the Body as we dwell in the Spirit and open ourselves to the fruit and the gifts that emerge.
It is in Ordinary time that we get to put into practice what we have learned from the Lord, that we enter into that deep abiding through which our lives bear fruit that blesses others, that we enter into the process of cultivating the soil of our neighbors and communities, of removing the obstacles that keep their lives from being receptive to God’s love.
It is in Ordinary time that we learn to rest in the fact that we are loved.
It is in Ordinary time that we dig our heels into the life of community.
It is in Ordinary time that we learn to practice love.
It is in Ordinary time that we certainly mess up.
It is in Ordinary time that we forgive.
It is in Ordinary time that we live.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Take a deep breath.
Who are you, right now?
How do you experience your days?
What are your greatest accomplishments?
Who do you pour your love and energy into?
What brings you the most joy and fulfillment?
This is who you are, right now, in this place and time, laying aside all dreams and expectations.
Embrace that reality and allow it to be enough.
Don’t worry about what tomorrow may bring.
Love someone today, right where you are.
Rest in the knowledge you are loved.
Be present here and now.
Take a deep breath.
You do not have to have a grand story of redemption and reconciliation leading to a life of great service.
You do not have to boast of heroic deeds and sacrificial accomplishments.
You do not have to fit into unrealistic societal expectations.
Do not dwell on what you are not, or what you could be, or what you might have been.
Rest in who you are – a dearly loved child of the creator of the universe, summoned with the task to love God back, love his creation (which includes yourself), and love one another.
Rest in the fact that as you wake each day with the purpose of receiving, being and giving love, that your life will continue to grow and change, and that you don’t have to be anxious about where that change is leading.
Rest in the knowledge that God Is.
Rest in God’s grace.
Rest in God.
“People always say how you should be yourself. Like yourself is this definite thing, like a toaster or something. Like you know what it is, even. But every so often, I'll have, like, a moment when just being myself, and my life, like, right where I am, is, like, enough.” ~ Angela Chase (My So-Called Life)
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
This past weekend I enjoyed a silent prayer retreat, led by my dear, lovely friend Ines Velasquez-Mcbryde. Ines and I have had many prayer, study and retreat experiences together, and this is the third time I have participated in a silent retreat she has led.
As we were wrapping up the retreat, and reflecting on our time, I started seeing a picture emerge of this retreat being a sort of bookend on a difficult season of my life, a five year period of loss, change, manipulation, confusion, anxiety, grief, anger and bitterness. Not that it was all laid on me at once, but rather it was more of a snowballing effect, and then I was trapped beneath the weight.
Before that period started, before I had any idea what was in store, I was on the first of the three retreats Ines led. We gathered in a cabin (read: small lake mansion) with friends and spent the evening enjoying each other’s company and preparing our hearts for the next day. We awoke in silence, prayer guides in hand, and after breakfast and brief instructions, scattered about the property to commune with God. I thought I would start my morning off inside, and eventually make my way to the porch or the water. I never made it out of the cabin.
At the top of the stairs, I found a utility closet that was clean, carpeted, spacious and bright, with nothing but the dim hum of an air conditioning unit to abide with me. I settled in, quieted my breathing, and decided to begin by listening to some of the scriptures on the first page of the guide. I didn’t get very far before I was gripped by a passage, and I stayed in Psalm 37 so long I was late returning to the group sharing time several hours later: Do not fret. Trust. Dwell. Delight. Commit. Be Still. Wait patiently. Refrain from anger. Hope.
I’m still learning what all of those words mean, but they pierced me then, and they still have a hold of me now. That was a special time of immersion in communion with the Spirit that I go back to often.
It seems that every prayer retreat and every spiritual direction session since that time found me bringing some burning question or deep wound to the table, something I needed answered, healed, explained or fixed. I wrote a few posts back about the forgiveness process I went through in March, and I like to think that because of that experience, this past weekend was able to seal one part of my story and allow another to begin.
I went into this silent retreat filled with peace and joy, and that’s the way I left.
No, I was not delusional that the world around me is still full of hate and destruction and things wildly beyond our control. But the sun was shining, I had no grand expectations, I just came to rest and enjoy, and that’s what I did.
I left with a poem inspired by the rolling breezes in the prayer garden, and a simple hope that perhaps I can put this season of frustration behind me. But even if I’m wrong, yet I will rejoice:
Pushed through distant forrest
Through my hair
With a kiss
Light as air
As limb and leaf
In canopy above
Lifted into dancing
Swept into joyful frenzy
By subtle beams
That beyond tree
And I am but a part
By the One who created
Tree, limb and leaf
Fed by sun and rain and soil
By the One who created
And clinging branch
By the One who is
By the One who invites
Me to cling
By the One who created
Of electric green moss
By twisted roots
Anchoring dancing forrest
To earthly hallows
Even as it longs to soar
To be swept up
In the rhythm
Of the wind
As it moves past
Carried further down the path
By the One who created
Out of love
To be love
Out of grace
To be grace
Out of mercy
To be mercy
By the One who forgave
So that I can forgive
Who comforts and heals
So that I can extend healing & comfort
The One who says
So that I can be peace
In the midst
Of the chaos
The wind travels past
And I remain
With the One who created
With the One who was
With the One who is to come
With the One who Is
With the One
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
I realize the mountaintop experience is the quintessential stereotype of divine moments, but there's a reason for that. Just look at the view in this photo - breathtaking, awe-inspiring, deeply moving.
Here in central Arkansas we have a popular hiking hill called Pinnacle Mountain. It's a little over a mile from base to summit, roundtrip, which makes it easy to set aside a few hours one morning or afternoon to enjoy.
One could incorporate the prayer model from the labyrinth walking up the hill (releasing), sitting at the top and taking in the expanse (receiving), and walking back down (integrating). Plus, all those endorphins you'll release should aid in prolonging that feeling of union, of being anxious for nothing, of resting in God's peace.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Friday, March 25, 2011
(…continued from yesterday.)
Entering the labyrinth path, I proceeded at a slow and steady pace, one foot in front of the other, between smooth stones and crunching dried pine needles. I started by tapping each finger one at a time on my leg, repeating the name of the person whose initial was on that fingertip, presenting them before the father.
Pacing the rhythm to my steps, I returned to the first finger and continued winding patiently through the path as I recounted the words that were spoken, the wounds that were cut, the actions that were taken.
Surprisingly, there was no fear, no anxiousness, no sorrow. The bitterness, anger, wounds and pride, indeed, had no power over me. God is greater than my heart, and he knew I was ready.
I repeated each name again, slowly, methodically, melodiously. Then I recited the name of each person’s spouse and, because they are one flesh, I went back through my fingers naming the person and their spouse together.
Once everything was out there, I began to pray forgiveness over each name:
“Lord, I surrender this person to you.
I surrender my need to change what happened,
I surrender my desire to control their actions,
I receive the responsibility to press on toward the goal, to follow your path.”
I lifted each name some more and, as I approached the center, I began rubbing each initial off my fingertips until they were no longer visible. I entered the center of the labyrinth, and I knelt at the feet of the father. One by one, I laid yellow wildflowers I had been carrying in my right hand, one for each person, at his feet, as well. I stood and opened my arms to his spirit. I silently recited several times, “You will go out with joy and be led forth in peace, the mountains and hills will burst forth in song.”
I took my pen and, where I had removed the initials, I inscribed the word “LOOSE” across my fingertips, and drew an open heart on my palm. I circled back out of the labyrinth, reciting scripture and singing hymns of praise, realizing the power to forgive, the awe-inspiring responsibility of forgiveness, comes not from my knowing how to release control, but through leaning on the grace and strength of Christ, my savior.
In the few days that have followed that encounter, it is not as if all memories have been replaced by rainbows and butterflies, but I can sense a change in my spirit. I’m less lethargic, my creative juices are flowing, and I haven’t been late for work all week (hey, that's something). I believe our father longs to release us from the burdens we willingly heap upon ourselves, to bring us fully into the freedom of his presence. If God created us, he knows our faults and our fears, and he formed our innermost being. As the psalmist says, he has searched our hearts, he knows us inside and out, we are fearfully and wonderfully made, wonderful works of his hands.
God knows our anxious thoughts, and yet he calls us to be anxious for nothing, to seek him first and trust him to take care of the rest.
Let us commit our spirits into his hands, whether they are spirits of condemnation, fear, or anxiety. Let us allow him to mold and transform them into spirits of joy, peace and grace. May we learn to forgive as we have been forgiven. May we learn to extend grace as we have received grace. May we grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
I wasn’t the one who did wrong.
I was hurt deeply, you see, so I deserved to feel this way.
And I planned to forgive them, but I didn’t know how. One and maybe I could have handled it. But not when each person’s injury was piled on top of the injuries that had come before. I’m not that strong.
I had books on my shelves that held pieces to the puzzle of forgiving, but I wasn’t quite ready to read them, certainly not to apply them. It wasn’t just the pain, it was the life changes I was forced to make because of each decision, each infliction, that was beyond my control.
But the Lord, he is a tricky thing.
I signed up for the prayer retreat because I love prayer. I love the conversation with my God. I love abiding in his presence, and listening and sharing. And I especially enjoy opportunities to get away to places of beauty and quiet, where I am free to give God my undivided attention.
Arriving at the retreat center, I was filled with joy. Entering the first session, I was filled with calm.
And then the invitation, to go around the room, to make introduction, and to answer the questions: Why are you here? What question will you take to God as you walk the labyrinth? What are you hoping to hear from him? What are you hoping to release?
Like a mother who has taken her child to the doctor on promise of ice cream (Oh, sure. There will be ice cream. But first, let’s go ahead and get these shots out of the way…), the element of surprise, no time to get anxious, just a quick pinch and then all will be well. And I’ll be here with you, holding your hand.
“It’s time,” God said.
“I know,” I replied.
And I did know, because the anxiousness was gone and his peace was present. Why was I there? What did I have to release? My firm grasp on a spirit of condemnation. I wanted to forgive, and I wanted to give up my need to control. I wanted to allow Christ to heal my hurt.
I really should have seen it coming. If I had brought my laptop, I could have looked back at the posts of the previous week and seen that God was leading me to this point. It’s not that I didn’t think I would get to a place of forgiveness, but I figured it would be down the road, after I had figured it all out and knew all the right words, and had sufficiently fortified myself against future attacks. In other words, I would forgive once I had regained control.
Saturday afternoon, after spending the morning reading scripture and resting, I wrote “loose” on my left wrist in thick black ink, for that was my intention. On each finger of my left hand, I inscribed the initial of someone whose debts I needed to forgive, whose actions I needed to release, whose sins I needed to loose. I approached the labyrinth, but I dared not enter. It wasn’t that I thought it was going to be a magical walk, but I knew it would be a powerful one. The path was designed so that I could simply follow, as I conversed with the creator of the universe. No big deal, right?
I circled once around the perimeter of the path, repeating “Whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven; whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.”
And again, repeating “Whosoever you forgive, their sins will be forgiven; whosoever you do not forgive, their sins will not be forgiven.”
A third time, “Forgive, as you have been forgiven.“
Then, because I still did not feel ready (and because I had made reference to the film The Labyrinth the previous day), I circled, repeating to the evil one “You. Have. No. Power. Over. Me.”
And to his fruit, I proclaimed (circling once for each):
“Bitterness has no power over me.”
“Anger has no power over me.”
“My wounds have no power over me.”
“Pride has no power over me.”
The last circle before entering the labyrinth walk was “God is greater than my heart, and he knows everything.”
He knows how I was hurt. He also knows what was going on in the hearts and lives of those I have been unable to forgive. He knows how he will redeem every person and every situation.
I stood at the entrance to the path, took a deep breath, said a prayer for peace and began my pilgrimage.
(to be continued tomorrow…)
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Does not understanding raise her voice?
At the highest point along the way, where the paths meet, she takes her stand; beside the gate leading into the city, at the entrance, she cries aloud:
“To you, O people, I call out; I raise my voice to all mankind. You who are simple, gain prudence; you who are foolish, set your hearts on it. Listen, for I have trustworthy things to say; I open my lips to speak what is right. My mouth speaks what is true, for my lips detest wickedness. All the words of my mouth are just; none of them is crooked or perverse. To the discerning all of them are right; they are upright to those who have found knowledge. Choose my instruction instead of silver, knowledge rather than choice gold, for wisdom is more precious than rubies, and nothing you desire can compare with her.
Monday, March 21, 2011
• The earliest time, first stage or freshest period
• To rise, leap, move or act suddenly and swiftly
• To be released from a forced or constrained position
• To come into being, rise, or arise within a short time
• To come into being by growth, as from a seed or germ, bulb, root, etc.
• To proceed or originate from a specific source or cause
• To take an upward course or curve from a point of support
• To start or rise from cover
• To shift or work loose
• The quality of elasticity or resilience
• Start, originate, emerge, emanate, issue, flow
• To move or cause to move suddenly upwards or forwards in a single motion
• To happen or cause to happen unexpectedly
• The act or an instance of moving rapidly back from a position of tension
• A device, such as a coil or strip of steel, that stores potential energy when it is compressed, stretched or bent and releases it when the restraining force is removed
• To release from imprisonment
• To pay for, to treat another
• To announce suddenly
Friday, March 18, 2011
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Vulnerability is something we instinctively reject because we are taught from kindergarten on that we must protect ourselves, control our behavior and our lives. But, in becoming man for us, Christ made himself totally vulnerable for us in Jesus of Nazareth, and it is not possible to be a Christian while refusing to be vulnerable…
Being a Christian, being saved, does not mean that nothing bad is ever going to happen. Terrible things happen to Christians as well as to Hindus and Buddhists and hedonists and atheists. To human beings. When the phone rings at an unexpected hour my heart lurches. I love, therefore I am vulnerable.
When we were children, we use to think that when we were grown-up we would no longer be vulnerable. But to grow up is to accept vulnerability.
…Homo sapiens. Man who knows. Or rather, man who is conscious would be more accurate. Man who is conscious that he does not know. Has there been a loss of knowing since Adam and Eve, rather than a gaining? Despite all our technology there is far more that we do not know than that we know, and the most terrible defect is our inability to tell right from wrong, to do horrible things for all the right reasons, and then to blunder inadvertently into doing something which turns out to be good. We try to make the loving, the creative decision, but we cannot know whether or not we are right.
Alleluia! We don’t have to be right! We do have to love, to be vulnerable, to accept joy and pain, and to grow through them.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
But it is the grace of the Gospel, which is so hard for the pious to understand, that it confronts us with the truth and says: You are a sinner, a great desperate sinner; now come, as the sinner that you are, to God who loves you. He wants you as you are; He does not want anything from you, a sacrifice, a work; He wants you alone. "My son, give me thine heart" (Prov. 23:26). God has come to you to save the sinner. Be glad! This message is liberation through truth. You can hide nothing from God. The mask you wear before men will do you no good before Him. He wants to see you as you are, He wants to be gracious to you. You do not have to go on lying to yourself and your brothers, as if you were without sin; you can dare to be a sinner. Thank God for that; He loves the sinner but He hates sin.
Christ became our Brother in the flesh in order that we might believe in him. In him the love of God came to the sinner. Through him men could be sinners and only so could they be helped. All sham was ended in the presence of Christ. The misery of the sinner and the mercy of God - this was the truth of the Gospel in Jesus Christ. It was in this truth that his Church was to live. Therefore, he gave his followers the authority to hear the confession of sin and to forgive sin in his name. "Whose soever sins ye remit, they are remitted unto them; and whose soever sins ye retain, they are retained" (John 20:23).
When he did that Christ made the Church, and in it our brother, a blessing to us. Now our brother stands in Christ's stead. Before him I need no longer dissemble. Before him alone in the whole world I dare to be the sinner that I am; here the truth of Jesus Christ and his mercy rules. Christ became our Brother in order to help us. Through him our brother has become Christ for us in the power and authority of the commission Christ has given to him. Our brother stands before us as the sign of the truth and the grace of God. He has been given to us to help us. He hears the confession of our sins in Christ's stead and he forgives our sins in Christ's name. He keeps the secret of our confession as God keeps it. Whe I go to my brother to confess, I am going to God.
So in the Christian community when the call to brotherly confession and forgiveness goes forth it is a call to the great grace of God in the Church.
Monday, March 14, 2011
The first service that one owes to others in the fellowship consists in listening to them. Just as love to God begins with listening to His Word, so the beginning of love for the brethren is learning to listen to them. It is God’s love for us that He not only gives us His Word but also lends us His ear. So it is His work that we do for our brother when we learn to listen to him. Christians, especially ministers, so often think they must always contribute something when they are in the company of others, that this is the one service they have to render. They forget that listening can be a greater service than speaking.
Many people are looking for an ear that will listen. They do not find it among Christians, because Christians are talking when they should be listening. But he who can no longer listen to his brother will soon be no longer listening to God either; he will be doing nothing but prattle in the presence of God too. This is the beginning of the death of the spiritual life, and in the end there is nothing left but spiritual chatter and clerical condescension arrayed in pious words. One who cannot listen long and patiently will presently be talking beside the point and never really speaking to others, albeit he be not conscious of it. Anyone who thinks that his time is too valuable to spend keeping quiet will eventually have no time for God and his brother, but only for himself and his own follies.
Brotherly pastoral care is essentially distinguished from preaching by the fact that, added to the task of speaking the Word, there is the obligation of listening. There is a kind of listening with half an ear that presumes already to know what the other person has to say. It is an impatient, inattentive listening, that despises the brother and is only waiting for a chance to speak and thus get rid of the other person. This is no fulfillment of our obligation, and it is certain that here too our attitude toward our brother only reflects our relationship to God. It is little wonder that we are no longer capable of the greatest service of listening that God has committed to us, that of hearing our brother’s confession, if we refuse to give ear to our brother on lesser subjects.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Saturday, March 12, 2011
How long will you refuse to humble yourself before me?
How long will you refuse to keep my commands and my instructions?
How long will these people treat me with contempt?
How long will they refuse to believe in me, in spite of all the signs I have performed among them?
How long will this wicked community grumble against me?
How long will you mourn?
How long will you people turn my glory into shame?
How long will you love delusions and seek false gods?
How long will you defend the unjust and show partiality to the wicked?
How long will you who are simple love your simple ways?
How long will mockers delight in mockery and fools hate knowledge?
How long will you lie there, you sluggard?
How long will you harbor wicked thoughts?
How long will you be unclean?
How long will this continue in the hearts of these lying prophets?
How long will you wander?
How long will you cut yourselves?
How long will they be incapable of purity?
How long shall I stay with you and put up with you?
My soul is in deep anguish. How long, Lord, how long?
How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart?
How long will my enemy triumph over me?
How long, Lord, will you look on? Rescue me.
We are given no signs from God; no prophets are left, and none of us knows how long this will be.
How long will the enemy mock you, God?
How long, Lord? Will you be angry forever?
How long will your jealousy burn like fire?
How long, Lord God Almighty, will your anger smolder against the prayers of your people?
How long, Lord? Will you hide yourself forever?
How long will your wrath burn like fire?
How long will it be? Have compassion on your servants.
How long, Lord, will the wicked, how long will the wicked be jubilant?
How long must your servant wait?
How long must I see the battle standard and hear the sound of the trumpet?
How long will the land lie parched and the grass in every field be withered?
Alas, sword of the Lord, how long till you rest?
How long, Lord, must I call for help, but you do not listen? Or cry out to you, “Violence!” but you do not save?
How long must this go on?
How long will you keep us in suspense?
Friday, March 11, 2011
Here's my heart take it where You will
This life has shown me how we're mended and how we're torn
How it's okay to be lonely as long as you're free
Sometimes my ground was stoney
And sometimes covered up with thorns
And only You could make it what it had to be
~ Elijah (Rich Mullins)
Sometimes God tells people to “Go!”
Sometimes God tells people to “Let Go.”
While reading God Whispers, I was captured by references to Elijah and had to spend some time with his story. Throughout 1 Kings 17 & 18, God is telling Elijah, leave here… go here…
Elijah listened. He trusted. He followed.
In chapter 18, he experienced the power of God in amazing ways.
Then in chapter 19, Elijah lost it. He gave in under the pressures of the world and retreated to the desert to lick his wounds. Even in such a pitiful state, the Lord cared for him through His angel, and even acknowledged, the journey is too much for you.
But the journey is never too much for the Lord.
We are told that Elijah was strengthened, and traveled (predictably) 40 days and 40 nights to rest in a cave in the mountain of God.
What are you doing here, Elijah?
As if the Lord didn’t already know the answer, Elijah recounted his woes.
The Lord, called Elijah out of the cave, where he witnessed strong winds, an earthquake and a fire.
of the Lord.
What are you doing here, Elijah?
And the prophet of the Lord recounted the same list of sorrows he had before he heard the whisper.
The Lord looked down on His obstinate child, recognizing that, while it was hard for Elijah to let go of the fear and the hurt, that he still trusted in his God.
And Elijah went.
I haven’t heard the Lord tell me to “Go,” as much in my life as I have heard Him tell me to “Let go.” My whole life I’ve learned to let go of relationships, places, dreams, beliefs and securities. I didn’t always recognize His voice, but He always brought me through on the other side.
Surely God is my help; the Lord is the one who sustains me. (psalm 54:4)
The Lord isn’t surprised by the fact that I’m human, and that sometimes the journey can be too much.
He strengthens me.
He reassures me.
He allows me rest.
He reveals Himself to me.
He questions me.
What are you doing here?
And in a gentle whisper, He insists:
Let go. Trust me. Follow.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
I ask them of myself, I ask them of others, and I ask them of God.
My questions are often confusing, and lengthy, and still in the process of figuring out what it is I really want to know in the first place.
I don’t think God minds my questions, because he seems to like them, too.
Jesus asked lots of leading questions, often about the crazy parables he told, knowing no one had a clue what he was talking about.
God’s not quite so cryptic.
God’s questions seem to be pretty simplistic and straight forward, which is kind of annoying, because you know he totally already knows the answer.
I think he asks the questions just to see what kind of whacky answer the human will respond with, and I think he gets a good laugh.
Oh sure, sometimes he may appear stern, but I think like any parent who is listening to his child trying to explain away a situation, digging deeper into a hole, God has to turn his head a bit to the side to suppress his uncontrollable chuckle.
Take Adam and Eve. They’re in the garden, communing with God, everything’s kosher. Cue the snake, Eve eats the fruit, politely shares it with Adam, boom they’re naked. Ok, so they were already naked, but now they know they’re naked. And they’re not just naked anymore… they’re nekkid! They start covering themselves up with leaves, hear God coming, and hide behind some trees.
God asks, “Where are you?”
Like. He. Didn’t. Know.
It’s like the parent playing hide-and-seek, whose child is lying under the coffee table with her feet sticking out the end, completely exposed. Yet, for the sake of the game, the parent continues wandering around the house, being sure to avoid the area directly surrounding the coffee table, calling out “Where are you?”
But here’s the thing for me, God could have ended it all right there. I mean, they ate the fruit, this is not going to be pretty. Like a writer whose story is going nowhere, he could have balled up the paper and tossed the draft into the waste bin. He could have called a do-over.
But he humored them. He played their little game. “Where are you?”
If God wasn’t the least bit surprised by Adam and Eve’s actions, if he didn’t scrap the whole project and go back to the drawing board, why are we so afraid to come before him honestly, just as we are?
Adam and Eve did not like everything God had to say to them, he didn’t just pat them on the head and let them off with a warning. Their actions had consequences. But life went on, and God did not leave them to face it alone. He loved them. He created them. He longed to be with them.
God loves you.
God created you.
God longs to be with you.
If you have to hide behind a tree and some fig leaves to be able to talk with him, ok – he’ll humor you.
But feel free to come before him just as you are. He already sees you, he already knows you, he already loves you.
“The great weakness in the North American church at large, and certainly in my life, is our refusal to accept our brokenness. We hide it, evade it, gloss over it. We grab for the cosmetic kit and put on our virtuous face to make ourselves admirable to the public. Thus, we present to others a self that is spiritually together, superficially happy, and lacquered with a sense of self-deprecating humor that passes for humility. The irony is that while I do not want anyone to know that I am judgmental, lazy, vulnerable, screwed up, and afraid, for fear of losing face, the face that I fear losing is the mask of the impostor, not my own!” ~ Brennan Manning, Ruthless Trust
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
In spite of myself, or perhaps true to form, what I ended up with was a meditation built on three spunky songs that may or may not put one in a penitent mood.
One reason that writing is such an essential part of my spiritual journey is it helps me gather and process all the jumbled bits of sight and sound that get soaked up and stored in my soul. I am often like a peddler, with seemingly useless information as my wares, who doesn’t even know what’s in her pack until it falls out at an unexpected moment. Friends and family notice this most often when a random word or phrase uttered causes me to break into (a slightly out-of-tune) song that has been called forth from my memory.
I hear a lot of things, but I don’t always listen well.
Through the process of writing, I take the time to sit down and sort through my ragged bag of trinkets and tokens gathered from an assortment of mundane places. Sometimes I may just sift through the pile, polish some tarnish off a few items, and stuff it all back in the sack. Other times, an article catches my eye and holds my attention, and as I’m paying attention to what I found, I start gazing through the collection and noticing objects that compliment the one I’m holding in my hands. A pile of junk starts to reveal itself as a beautiful assemblage of interrelated treasures.
Writing trains me to listen deeply.
As I learn to listen, as my senses become more attentive to the world around me, I am more open to recognizing and receiving patterns of truth and beauty that are woven through the songs I hear, the words I read, the sights I observe, the friends and teachers I encounter. Margaret Feinberg refers to these as God Whispers and Sacred Echoes. (Lorelai Gilmore refers to them as a wild jungle full of scary gibberish.)
So, I thought of Ash Wednesday.
Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.
All fall down. That's the first song I ever heard from Sarah Masen, who has long been one of my favorite songwriters:
Trip on grace.
That's a lovely phrase.
It requires a great amount of trust, a release of control, for one to trip on grace, to embrace and dive into sweet communion.
Trip on love… that was a good song:
When you feel too much, do you start to panic?
Accepting love requires us to expose ourselves to the possibility of loss.
Grace and love.
Oh, to understand how loved we truly are.
You. Are. Loved.
You. Are. Really. Loved.
Entering into the reflection and repentance of the Lenten season requires the humility to admit your brokenness, but also, and perhaps more importantly, the vulnerability to accept that you are loved in spite of how you may feel, in spite of what you may have done, in spite of who other people are saying you are.
You can be fully honest with God because you are fully loved by God.
You were created out of God’s love. You are sustained through God’s love. You will be redeemed through God’s love.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, love to love.
God’s kingdom has come near to us through his son and through his spirit. May we turn toward that truth, may we believe it, may we live and move and have our being within it.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Enter any Southern household and you are bound to hear this phrase eventually.
When you do, it will rarely be offered in a sweet, gentle, rational voice (though we know how to employ that voice when necessary, if it will serve our purposes).
“Y’all Settle Down!”
If you hear this uttered, you know you have crossed a line, that you (and your compatriots) are out of control, and that the person yelling it has reached her wit’s end (Yelling? Do we yell? We convey our message firmly… occasionally in a raised voice to ensure we are heard above the racket.).
I am not an expert on practicing the disciplines of a Christian life.
I am not writing this blog from a place of superiority or a well of vast knowledge.
I am writing it from the heart of someone who likes to be in control, but who longs to rest and trust, someone who tends to get busy and anxious, but longs to practice patience and simplicity.
I am writing it as someone who is at her wit’s end with herself, and is screaming over the noise & busyness of her own life “Settle Down!”
Many of you have either read or watched Eat, Pray, Love, and some of you may have found some kernel of inspiration there. Many of us also walked away from the book or movie thinking, “If only I could abandon my entire life and spend copious amounts of time and money in foreign lands, then I too could find rest and renewal for my weary soul.” Most likely none of us have the time, money, nor the desire to walk away from our day-to-day lives and relations (ok, perhaps occasional momentary escapes).
I don’t believe we should, nor do we have to, run away in order to renew.
Many of us grew up with people encouraging us to do great and mighty things for the Lord.
We received graduation gifts adorned with Jeremiah 29:11,
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."But, I’m thinking, if I ever get around to the mom thing, my kids may receive a preceding verse:
This is what the LORD Almighty, the God of Israel, says to all those I carried into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: “Build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Marry and have sons and daughters; find wives for your sons and give your daughters in marriage, so that they too may have sons and daughters. Increase in number there; do not decrease. Also, seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the LORD for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper.”Settle down. Enjoy your life. Build relationships. Practice peace. Love God. Love others.
Do it where God places you… or where he leads you… but you don’t have to run off to find it.
My location is Little Rock.
My station in life is single, thirty-something, female.
I write from that place and that perspective.
But I am also hoping to invite stories from friends who are male, friends who are married, friends who are moms, friends who are missionaries, friends who are more mature.
In this free and public space, may we find ways to deepen our relationship with Christ and with the Church, right where God has us, and with the people he has brought across our path.
Blessings as we enter together into the Lenten season.