Remember the Sabbath

A variety of circumstances have had me recalling God's commandment to keep the sabbath.  First, it was the dizzying flexibility of a ministry work-week that could, in quick succession, give me days of non-stop meetings and service followed by days that begged to be filled.  Before I had any standing weekly commitments, I was fresh in San Diego without a clue as to the flow or direction of any given Monday.

As I began to get busy, I realized that a non-traditional schedule (going 'till 9pm, doing errands midday, just as likely to lead a prayer meeting as go to the beach on a Sunday afternoon) could run me into the ground if I didn't take a stand on something.  So I started designating days off.  I've been trying to figure out what is "off" and what is "work".  My work is largely about people, but people aren't  always work.  =)  A small voice in my head kept reminding me of the beauty and refreshment of a sabbath-- something I haven't regularly observed since college.  Back then, the lines seemed clearer: if I didn't do my ever-pervasive academic work, then I was resting.  (Keep in mind that back then I also had hardly any responsibilities like cooking or cleaning or car maintenance.)

I began asking around, and I found sadly few people in ministry around me who took sabbaths.  Is it possible, I began to wonder?  What if a community or church event comes up?  I HAVE to go, don't I?  But I was also realizing that I HAVE to rest.  I needed this day/ pattern/ rhythm in my life.

Two weeks ago, I started reading Exodus.  Before God sent Moses down the mountain with commandments etched on tablets, God taught the Hebrews about sabbath through the pattern of manna collection.  He told them that they would go out and get manna for 5 days, just enough for their family to eat each day.  The 6th day they'd get a double portion, and they could keep it overnight for eating on the 7th day.  (If they kept extra on other days, it got gross and maggot-y by daybreak.)  I like concrete teaching points.  I like that the stone tablet commandment isn't a new thing about sabbath-- it's a reminder about this way of living that God has instituted for his people.

And so all this was percolating in me this weekend when I picked up Sabbath-Keeping, by Lynne Baab.  EXCELLENT book.  Practical.  Insightful.  Human.  Hopeful.  And it's pretty short.  Baab offers examples from many years of negotiating sabbath observance in the U.S. and abroad (she actually started while living in Israel, not so much by choice), with and without children, as a home-maker and a Presbyterian pastor.  Whether you've thought about sabbath a lot, or are just venturing into the conversation, I highly recommend the book.  But you don't have to take my word for it!  (Thanks, Reading Rainbow...)

My favorite take-home points from Sabbath-Keeping:

-Start and end the day with actions that set it apart.  Prepare yourself to enter and exit a time that is different, restful (slow), delightful, and restorative.

-This may sound obvious, but don't do anything that you'd find on a "to-do" list.  Whether it's email or phone calls or silver-polishing, stay away from achievement-driven tasks.  (Exceptions are made for milking cows and such.)  The heart of the sabbath is God's provision and love regardless of our DOing tendencies.

-Commit to it for 6 months at a time, and then re-evaluate.  So decide what day it will be, what things you will and won't do, and how you will mark the occasion-- and don't change it until you've given it many weeks to become part of your rhythm.

I am hopeful about the sabbath as a freedom and a joy.  It's tricky in a culture where rest is such a 'strange' choice to make, but I've begun to think our need for it trumps inconvenience.

"Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a sabbath to the LORD your God. On it you shall not do any work, neither you, nor your son or daughter, nor your male or female servant, nor your animals, nor any foreigner residing in your towns. For in six days the LORD made the heavens and the earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but he rested on the seventh day. Therefore the LORD blessed the Sabbath day and made it holy."  -Exodus 20:8-11 

Read the Signs

Posted on a house for sale down the street.  Makes me giggle every time.

Yet I also ascribe some depth to it.  What if PEOPLE were able to wear such a sign with pride?  Every time I pass the sign, I think about it.  Are you gorgeous inside?

Ears to Hear

I have my share of feeling fear, annoyance and confusion when I'm around people who are homeless, addicted, or unstable.  I question their judgment and their motives.  I'm always ready for things to take a turn into nonsense.  Rightly or wrongly, it keeps me from being too shocked when the winds shift.  When things start sounding weird, I can hold myself back and say, Okay, this person's a little off. 

What I was reminded of today, though, was the no-nonsense insight that often comes from people who live on the edges of society.  This was the second Friday I've gone downtown and helped with a morning meal for the homeless.  It was a vibrant experience.

This morning some people on the streets reminded me that I love people.  As I took trays of food to individuals on the church patio, one lady began trying to ask me a question in broken English.  When I skipped into Spanish with her, a big grin broke out on her face.  Oh such relief!  I described how the process worked and later she got a meal.  She thanked me again and again.  Every time I passed, she smiled.  Whether sweet Rosie who claimed she'd "never forget" me or Tom who reads the Harry Potter books or tough Lisa who grumbles and smiles or Dax who makes jokes and talks about his granddaughter-- I enjoyed people this morning.  We all found big or small reasons to smile.

I smile at the way these friends told the truth.   Some walked up to me and asked if I was Irish.  Some told me I look 17 years old.  (Ouch.)  One sang me a love song.  One told me it was okay to serve the Lord by having conversation with people in the courtyard-- hoping I didn't "get in trouble" with the other volunteers for talking instead of clearing tables.  One told me not to stop smiling. 

It was the way Tom, Dax, Rosie and others looked straight at me and said what they thought-- that made me think about the repeated times in Luke when Jesus talks about those who have ears to hear.  Jesus says something that invites those who have ears to hear-- listen!  Immediately, the spotlight turns to this unruly bunch called "tax collectors and sinners" and puts them in a scene hanging out with Jesus.  This crowd is bumping into the Kingdom.  They hear what's true.  They know it.  They say it.

In community development and church outreach circles lately I've been praying for us (usually middle-class, well-meaning people) to have God's eyes for neighborhoods here-- "eyes to see."  What I've thought less about are the people who offer US their seeing eyes and their hearing ears.  And not just what they hear on the streets that we're interested in, but what they hear in us.  What they hear from Jesus.

At those fun gatherings around Jesus 2,000 years ago, the ones listening didn't cease to be tax collectors and sinners, but they stopped being left out of the conversation.  They became a crucial part of good news listened-to and understood. 

People without houses, people without money, and people without clear minds don't cease to be people with problems in the presence of Jesus.  Yet, they can be people with ears to hear his voice and his truth.  In their listening, and our listening with them, we could all be people of promise.

Godly Cancellations

I took a chunk of time on Tuesday for prayer, study and reflection, and one of the driving factors (other than the fact that those are all good things to do) was that I wanted to be more in tune with God's direction for my days.  I like to work hard and be productive, and as a result I am very capable of filling a schedule until I feel busy and accomplished.  I've done much too good a job of this lately. 

In the two days since, plans and meetings have cancelled right and left, and it's been beautiful.  That's right: beautiful.  Though I am sad that I didn't get to see 5 or 6 wonderful people, each cancellation opened me to something else, and in that, God gave me joy and freedom.

For example, on Thursdays I have a weekly meeting at the doughnut shop around the corner with a college student I'm helping to prepare for a summer in Mexico City.  I had done reading and prepared some scripture study in Amos for that meeting, and so I could have been grouchy when a text came through saying he wouldn't make it -- feeling sick.  Instead, there was a sense of openness, like , Okay, how will this morning go now?

It went by tackling a few little projects, having a fantastic conversation and time of prayer with a roommate, and slowing down the pace of the rest of my day.   Mmmm.  As much as I would have savored a string of meetings and "tasks accomplished," this is sweeter.

May God bring you the pace that you need and the peace that you seek, today and every day.

Week in the Life

I've realized how much of the blog lately has been REFLECTIVE, so I figured I'd put a little concrete update in here for those of you who want to know what the heck I do everyday.  While I don't have any kind of a typical day, maybe a glance at the whole week will help!

My week in review:
Sunday- 7.(something) mile run with neighbor!  Church with First Presbyterian.  Led prayer walk in City Heights for local church.  Joined CRM missional community folks for dinner and prayer and discussion.

Monday- inductive Bible study with a friend, digging into 1 John.  So many good questions there!  Then Tijuana boys' home for conversation, hanging out, talking about surfing, taking the kids to school.  Took about 2 hours to cross the border back into the US; a man just ahead of me in line got taken away in handcuffs.  I came home, cooked dinner, and watched a bilingual film ("English as a Second Language") about the emptiness of life on the border.

Tuesday- got up and started going through emails when I got a call from a college friend I hadn't talked to in 6+ months!  We talked 'till I had to get ready for my weekly check-in meeting with Geoff.  Geoff and I caught up, pondering God in daily life and the balance between being involved in lots of great things and a restful availability (ie: not being crazy busy).  Another long-overdue conversation with a college friend, and then with my family.  Bought plane tickets for our CRM world staff conference in Malaysia!!!

Wednesday- Weekly staff meeting with other CRM folks in San Diego, discussing Mansions of the Heart (spiritual formation based on Theresa of Avila's writings).  MARATHON emailing session to get my inbox in order.  (Sorry if I owe you an email, I've been backlogged lately as I spend lots of time looking for plane tickets in Asia.)  Bible study with roommates and some architectures students downtown.  Matthew 12 and Revelation 7.  Weird stuff.

Thursday- full day in Fullerton (Orange County).  Drove up for a roundtable discussion/ workshop with other community development practitioners weaving together expertise of City-Reaching (master networkers), Community Development (local organizer- neighbor ministry types), and Prayer/ Intercessors (the people who love to pray).  Great discussions and fun people to meet.  Then swung by the CRM office in Anaheim to catch up and wait out rush hour traffic.  Played with friends' baby boy.  Got home and went out for Vietnamese food and gourmet dessert with apartment #1 neighbors-- I'm still full! 

Friday- another early morning-- chopping vegetables to feed homeless/ low-income folks downtown.  Meeting with local church plant about community center planning and prayer.

And on and on! And those are just the highlights!  I'm sure I'm missing various fun nuggets of life and ministry in there, but if you want to know more, just holler and I'll fill you in.  =)

The Down Home Thrill

Have you ever felt that thrill that comes from feeling just a little more connected to the people in your world?  I hear lots of complaint about the faceless globalized world, but lately, I've started relishing the places where a personal touch persists.

At the coffee shop where I meet with various people at least once a week, it's so much fun to know and be recognized by the folks behind the counter.  To greet them by name and chat while steeping my tea.

My roommate recently went to the corner store two days in a row.  The cashier saw that she was buying the same kind of beer again the second day and said, "It's good stuff, eh?"

This morning I got what I assumed was a form e-mail, sent from my regional bank corporation back home.  They were inquiring about recent activity on my debit card (plane tickets to Hong Kong apparently look out of the norm for me!) and requested a call to clear things up.  So I called and punched the numbers in the automated directory and a woman answered and asked what I needed.  I told her about the email and she asked who sent it.  I told her the name and she said, "Oh, that's me."  How often does THAT happen???  I'm not talking small-town Tennessee bank office--- this is a bank with branches all over the southeast.  I was surprised and happy and I gave my bank extra points for giving me a sense of being known.

I know small towns feel stifling to some people-- they don't want others to know their stuff, their past, their buying habits.  However, I would say that it's much more frightening to have NO ONE know your past, your purchases, and your pastimes.  There's a buzz of happiness that comes with recognition and being acknowledged.  Apparently all I have to do is make a strange enough purchase with my debit card.

Going into Wedding Season

"I swear, in some ways, abortion and homosexuality are less contentious among my students than the issue of what kind of wedding to have, what kind of wedding banquet to plan. The way that young Protestant couples plan their weddings bodes very ill for the kind of family they are hoping to become. You watch what a wedding is often about these days -- it is about displaying one’s wealth to those one is eager to impress. If you think instead about the scriptural wedding itself, about being the open banquet that one hopes one’s marriage will be, I think weddings would look a lot different than they do. I think they would be on a Sunday morning service where everyone is invited. I think they would look more like a potluck than the kind of catered extravagances toward which even the middle class is climbing. I think the image of the banquet where the blind and the lame are invited, and those who cannot repay us, that image would be one in which to start a marriage."

-Amy Laura Hall

YES!  I've been talking with friends for a few years now about why more weddings aren't just part of worship on Sunday mornings.  AND how fun it would be to do a potluck, where those in town can bless and bring together what they have for the celebration of marriage.  I'm thrilled that my friends' weddings HAVE been about the covenant they're entering into, and I've been blessed by the creativity with which they celebrate it.

Not that I'm planning any weddings of my own!   :)  But when the time comes, I pray that it's one helluva joyful gathering that's about faithfulness and openness instead of ritz and status quo.  You can hold me to that.

The Desert Shall Rejoice

ISAIAH 35:    The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom; like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice with joy and singing. The glory of Lebanon shall be given to it, the majesty of Carmel and Sharon. They shall see the glory of the LORD, the majesty of our God. Strengthen the weak hands, and make firm the feeble knees. Say to those who are of a fearful heart, “Be strong, do not fear! Here is your God. He will come with vengeance, with terrible recompense. He will come and save you.”

Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped; then the lame shall leap like a deer, and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy. For waters shall break forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert; the burning sand shall become a pool, and the thirsty ground springs of water; the haunt of jackals shall become a swamp, the grass shall become reeds and rushes. A highway shall be there, and it shall be called the Holy Way; the unclean shall not travel on it, but it shall be for God’s people; no traveler, not even fools, shall go astray. No lion shall be there, nor shall any ravenous beast come up on it; they shall not be found there, but the redeemed shall walk there. And the ransomed of the LORD shall return, and come to Zion with singing; everlasting joy shall be upon their heads; they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.                   


(Note: This is what the desert here really looks like right now!  Such a miracle of color and growth and life in unlikely places.  Dry, rocky, and windy, the desert DARES anything to survive-- the plants are dancing in the face of that dare for springtime.  Soon it will return to rough and tumble desert times.)  

Take off Your Shoes

Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God; so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist.  After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples' feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him.

He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, "Lord, are you going to wash my feet?"

Jesus replied, "You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand."

"No," said Peter, "you shall never wash my feet."

Jesus answered, "Unless I wash you, you have no part with me."

"Then, Lord," Simon Peter replied, "not just my feet but my hands and my head as well!"

 Jesus answered, "Those who have had a bath need only to wash their feet; their whole body is clean. And you are clean, though not every one of you."  For he knew who was going to betray him, and that was why he said not every one was clean.  When he had finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and returned to his place. "Do you understand what I have done for you?" he asked them. "You call me 'Teacher' and 'Lord,' and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another's feet.  I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.  Very truly I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them.

-John 13:2-17- 

A few days ago I was at a rocky stretch of seaside, and I couldn't resist the urge to take my shoes off and let my feet grip the sun-warmed stones.  There is a sensate exhilaration to barefootedness for some of us-- wiggling toes, grounded and balanced upon the earth-- and I think there are interlocked layers of meaning when we slip off our shoes and sandals.  There is the classic scene of Moses barefooted beholding the burning bush-- dusty feet a recognition and closeness with the ground that is holy.  There is some of that fear and wonder prompting my reverence at the seaside, but let's be honest, I also like to have my toes in the sand.  I like the water and waves to reach up and touch me.  (It always leaps up higher than my rolled pant cuffs.  Without fail.)

 

It's the sense of being touched that's so important in barefooted scriptures.  Moses needs to remove whatever stands between him and contact with the holy ground.  When Jesus washes the disciples' feet, he is TOUCHING their grungy, weary parts.  Feet are ticklish, funny-shaped, strong, stinky parts of the body.  Jesus wants to touch that?

 

This Maundy Thursday, I finally had the opportunity to wash someone's feet.  After years of wanting to practice it, it was simple, powerful, and beautiful.  Granted, the feet of my friend were pretty nice.  When I took her feet into the basin, no sludge came off and no blisters oozed.  But I held her feet in my hands and, looking up at her, realized I was literally under her feet.  She could have kicked me aside or splashed me with water or just walked away, but she sat and let me rinse and dry her heels and toes into cleanliness.

 

We can shield our feet from contact and our hearts from loving service and not realize what we're doing.  But sometimes, some days, we might hope to understand, we might take our shoes off, and we might end up washing one another's feet.

Joan's Palms on Sunday

If I told this story
you would worry
say "stay safe"
"carry pepper spray"
to stop it
stop her.
Was it
dangerous?

Danger of soft pillowed hands
filled with warmth of life
and sun and scraping by
and scrapping on the street.
Warm under waving palms,
this is no royal procession:
smells and scenes of rejection
men and women who want food
no flimsy 'bread of life'
but a hearty soup.
It is all backdrop to a bruised and limping plea:
"Got a quarter?  Or a dollar?"
No, but we can get food
if you want?
"Oh yes!"
Handshake introduction:
"Joan."
Laura.
Civilized and safe
until despairing strength pulls me in
too close
my hands wound in hers
and here is danger
close as a whisper-sob
of jibbered fear:
"the police don't understand."

I have to pull away
from the insane harm
and helpless hurt
in her hands.
I hate to
have to
let her go
admit defeat
and fear.

Walking away was right?
But Joan's babbled yells
were no consolation
no checkmark
for a task completed.

It is this uncertain
mess of conscience
pepper spray would not
ameliorate.
It is this day of significance
warming me up to
full absurdity of royal parade
led by a donkey.

Danger and bruises and hands and holiness,
wrapped in palms this Sunday,
invite me to tell a story
that repeats.

Eep! 2 Weeks!

There's been so much to write about these past few weeks, and I just haven't done it!  I don't know if others have that same experience... when there's too much to say.  There are days when my journal reflects that overload as well, and the result is short phrases and disjointed words.  Because I know it's important, and I want to transcribe it WELL, but there's a logjam from my mind to my typing fingers.

What's been rolling around in that time is a lot of reflection on Holy Week and Easter.  Lent was deep and powerful for me this year, so I had an odd sense of wanting to savor its last few days as Holy Week ticked down to Sunday.  In the small group I attend, a few of us talked about the beautiful focus of Lent-- this time to place ourselves firmly in a process of moving toward the cross.  Liturgically speaking, I've been mulling the last week or so on what focus can come from the season we're now in.  I read Acts 1-2 this morning:

After [Jesus'] suffering he presented himself alive to them by many convincing proofs, appearing to them over the course of forty days and speaking about the kingdom of God. While staying with them, he ordered them not to leave Jerusalem, but to wait there for the promise of the Father.

At a lecture I attended this week, the speaker advocated the value of "non-productive  repetition of the liturgy"-- meaning that we're not to put ourselves through Lent, Epiphany, Advent (etc.) for our own betterment and improvement, but for the sake of living in seasons of obedience to God.  In that light, I'd agree that observing Lent doesn't make me a better person... but it can prepare me to be an Easter person.  A person with fresh appreciation of the cross and its rending indignity.  A person who needs and welcomes the wounds on the hands and the side of Jesus.  A person who waits for the promise.  Waiting and teaching in turn can prepare me to be a Pentecost person.  And so on.

All that to say, I'm going to keep turning the soil of Holy Week.  Let's have Jesus appear and stay with us and speak about the kingdom of God. 

Reading Words

LOTS of words.  =)

Yeah, there's a bookmark in all of them.  Guess what I should be doing...
This is why I do so much quoting on the blog! 

Handmade Love

Homemade card + envelope I made for a friend.  Not gonna lie, I was pretty proud of it... so I share.  =)

Lines and Grays

"...in a world of poverty, the lines between darkness and light, good and evil, destructiveness and creativity, are much more distinct than in a world of wealth.
One of the temptations of the upper-middle class life is to create large gray areas between good and evil.  Wealth takes away the sharp edges of our moral sensitivities and allows a comfortable confusion about sin and virtue.  The difference between rich and poor is not that the rich sin more than the poor, but that the rich find it easier to call sin a virtue.  When the poor sin, they call it sin; when they see holiness, they identify it as such.  This intuitive clarity is often absent from the wealthy, and that absence easily leads to the atrophy of the moral sense.
David helped me see that living with the poor does not keep me away from evil, but it does allow me to see evil in sharper, clearer ways.  It does not lead me automatically to the good either, but will help me see good in a brighter light, less hidden and more convincing.  Once I can see sin and virtue with this clarity, I will also see sadness and joy, hatred and forgiveness, resentment and gratitude in less nebulous ways."     -Henri Nouwen, Gracias

Strong words.  When I read them, I literally stopped and said, "whoa."  I'm not completely convinced, but I think I mostly agree.

Ponder ponder?

Outside the box, but built in line...

"A key spiritual discipline, therefore, in the upside-down Kingdom of the oddly shaped Christ is the practice of doing out-of-the-box Kingdom things. When we respond to Jesus' example and actively step out of our comfort zone—the status quo, what is expected, and what is normal—on a regular basis, we give God the opportunity to gradually chisel away attitudes and habits that are not life-giving and to bring our values and life practices in line with the Cornerstone."

The stone the builders rejected has
become the chief corner stone; this is the
LORD’s doing; It is marvelous in our eyes.
This is the day the LORD has made; Let us
rejoice and be glad in it.
                Psalm 118:22-24

Too Good

"Sometimes the relationship I offer you seems too good to be true.  I pour My very Life into you, and all you have to do is receive Me.  In a world characterized by working and taking, the admonition to rest and receive seems too easy.  There is an intricate connection between receiving and believing: as you trust Me more and more, you are able to receive Me and My blessings abundantly.  Be still and know that I am God."

-from Jesus Calling

It was an incredible day.  Didn't start well, though.  I fought my alarm clock (cell phone) with swipes at 10-minute intervals.  The tender sunlight on the neighboring palm tree won my admiration, but didn't pull me out for a run.  I rolled over.  I moaned.  I finally pulled myself upright and started reading today's Lent devotional.  Be transformed by the renewing of your mind... The words of the prophet Isaiah (chapter 53) became appropriate, became interesting, became my prayers, became a window into God's heart for loving and redeeming the whole world with a suffering love.  It transformed me and my mind, my attitude and my morning.

The day wound through a meeting about me (goals, progress, plans) and a meeting about the state of the Presbyterian Church (USA).  Both were surprisingly encouraging.  I should write more about that.  Next time.

I finished the evening with a run at sunset.  All my prior trips to the local park had been in the mornings, and what a different scene it was!  I passed people constantly on the sidewalks.  School-kids ambled to get home before dark.  Adults finished days of work.  The noise!  A joyous tumult: Mexican lady walking buddies, street slang around a busted engine, Vietnamese moms and dads and brothers.  My favorites were the parallel soccer games.  Men/ young adults kicked up some serious dirt for an intense futbol match, while a grupito of young boys had their game set up with coke bottles marking the goals off to the side.  People FILLED the public space in a way that I rarely see in the U.S.  They overflowed into a place of fun and commonality and health.  People who would never be in a room together were linked in a rhythm born of shared life and limited space.

Jesus, it's too good and vibrant.  Help me receive.

Generate Hope

I've crossed paths with people pioneering a brand new non-profit called Generate Hope that's confronting the grim reality of sex-trafficking in San Diego.  Here's a glimpse into a little-known aspect of this sunny city, from an interview as their first women's safehouse opened last week.

There's not much commentary for me to add...  I am grateful for organizations like this one offering aid for a gaping need.  I feel strongly about the Church's responsibility to step up in the face of grim, stark realities like this.  I reflect on yesterday's sermon on Jonah, in which the preacher firmly argued that, "Our disobedience is the world's catastrophe."  Our failure-- and even refusal-- as the Church to engage a society that craves power, exploitation and literally cheap sex is disobedience.  And it is catastrophe.  Every individual actor in the sex trade screams for love, for ministry, for the light of Jesus.  Of course we feel compassion for the women entering recovery.  But what about the larger, frightening, disgusting system?  Are some of them our Ninevites?  The johns, the pimps, the gangs, the accomplices, the abusers who made that little girl feel unsafe?  Imagine a world in which THEY were healed as well.  Imagine a world where that resounding catastrophe could be replaced by hope.

It's a miracle, but one we've seen before: out of dark, wounded, belly-of-a-whale depths, hope comes.

"I stake the future on the few humble and hearty lovers who seek God passionately in the marvelous, messy world of redeemed and related realities that lie in front of our noses."

-William McNamara

Getting to the Point of Sacrifice

I went to a small group on Monday night and had a fresh insight into Lent.  I've observed Lent to varying, growing degrees over the past few years.  As I remarked to one friend this year, the liturgical seasons have a larger significance for me in transitioning travels from place to place and in the absence of other life rhythms like school semesters.  Whether I see snow or falling leaves or freshly-tilled soil, I can count on 12 months taking me through the life and death of Jesus.

So yes.  This season of Lent.  Simplicity.  Discipline.  Focus.  And I've always sort of vaguely understood Lent as a time of sacrifice.  Sacrifice that doesn't even nearly approach what we're talking about Jesus doing in dying for our redemption, but sacrifice in some mystical, general way.  So some of us give up meat or sugar or facebook and draw closer to God in the process.  But this little meditation that we did talked about the central sacrifice at stake as we approach Easter is dignity: 

"if I am honest, my Lenten sacrifice is mostly self-help-- giving up something I probably should not be doing anyway.  Would I risk my reputation or any of the other things that give me a sense of dignity in order to help others?  Do I treat my dignity as a gift of which I am a grateful steward, or as something that I have earned?"

Chewing on that, and on Philippians 2:5-11, I began to think about our common perception of dignity.  It's something we hold onto, fearfully protective.  We talk about earning the respect of others-- often for good things we do.  And yet, there is this crazy invitation if we take seriously what it means to be like Christ, who didn't exploit his equality with God, but emptied himself, humbled himself, became obedient to the point of death-- even death on a cross.  It is an invitation to know our worth without having to earn it.  In sacrificing all dignity, Jesus clothed us in the worth and unending love of the Father.  What would happen if we gave up something a little dearer than chocolate cake?

Somethin's Happenin Here

(Praise God!)

For the first time in a while, I've been BUSY.  Not pretend-busy, not finding things to do here and there, but legitemately, dawn-to-dusk (or mid-morning to late evening...) busy.  It all started almost two weeks ago-- and yes, it's been an excuse for sparse blogging.  I've continued meeting with people doing ministry here in the city, and those meetings have transitioned from lots of "Hi, What do you do?" conversations into "Let's talk more about ____" discussions.  That is deeply reassuring and hopeful to me.  Baby steps and opening doors.

Then, as blogged about last week, I spent a day in Ensenada, Mexico.  The next day, I met up with a former Trek student (going to Mexico City this summer as Trek staff!) and then went into team meeting mode.  Thursday through Saturday were Urban Mosaic meeting and training days, so the 4 other guys on our team with Geoff and me rolled in from Seattle and greater L.A.  It was wonderful to finally put faces with names, to hang out, learn more about Appreciative Inquiry as a congregational change process, and grapple with team identity, purpose, and performance.

Yeah, that mouthful about congregational change appreciative WHAT?  =)  Basically, Appreciative Inquiry is a very intentionally positive way of going about change-- applicable to any institution.  We see Biblical principles all over it, because it finds and affirms what is right and good in an organization (Philippians 4:8, as a relevant support).  It's a lot like doing community development based on assets or evaluating a person by his/ her strengths.  Fleshing out our reading with hands-on understanding and dialogue brought out the potential delights and difficulties of using the methodology in a church setting.

Then, after a day of sabbath rest, a new week roared into action with a day-long conference with Luis Palau CityFest folks, followed by some other good, God-infused meetings.  And now it feels right to take a few days to stay on top of emails and administrative joys.  Oh Lord, be my guide...!

Slow Steps

I went down to Ensenada, Mexico today with some friends to explore starting a photo project among kids in a community there.  Okay, some of them are going to do a photo project; I tagged along.  The purpose is to highlight the talents, hearts and perspectives of children in this community-- a human settlement established about 20 years ago.  The project would have kids doing basically the same assignment in several locations worldwide simultaneously.  Drawing them together in an exhibition will be fascinating and rich.

That's all incredible.  But what I thought about, as we walked streets so much like other settlement streets I've walked in Latin America, as we had conversations by front gates, as we let a community speak to us through its members, as we got to know a school director who really cares for his students and lights up at this opportunity, what I thought about was keeping my pace slow.  Literally.  I always forget that I'm an americana who walks like she needs to get somewhere.  Even when I don't.  This was the second or third time this week that I've needed to slow down to really walk alongside whoever I was with.

In that situation, I'm presented with two options.  I can either keep the pace that I like-- brisk and efficient-- and then pause periodically, or I can recalibrate and walk in agreement with my companion(s). 

Of course, I'm not just thinking about taking a stroll anymore.  =)  I'm thinking of ministry and partnership and my job and my lifestyle.  I'm thinking of the pastors I want to get to know, the people I might mentor, and the Jesus who walks with me.  I'm thinking about the agreement of walking together with God (Amos 3:3).

What if here were the only place I needed to get to?  And what if that covenanted companionship was the wonder and joy and goal?  Of course we'd still be going places.  It would still stretch my legs and expose me to smiles and sunlight and tears and tricky footing.  Yet, it would go at a pace that quiets my mind and settles me into the here and now so that I may hear and do with new faithfulness and trust.

That kind of sounds like a nice walk.

Gracias, Henri Nouwen

I didn't make it past the first page of the introduction without bursting into tears.  I didn't expect that.  I thought I would skim right through Gracias: A Latin American Journal-- and sure, I would be appreciative of Nouwen's incredible insight, but it wouldn't rock my socks off.  You see, I read Gracias almost five years ago, during my first summer in Mexico City on the Global Urban Trek.  My roommate and I shared a bed provided by our host family, and we shared this book as well, passing it back and forth, chapter by chapter, pushing through dusty days of struggling in Spanish.  So it's possible I could have missed something that first time.  =)  Further, I found new resonance as Nouwen writes lovingly of Lima, Peru and his months spent there.

THAT, I think, is what yanked at my heart on page "ix".  A cry escaped me as I read:

"It was there that I discovered for the first time that those who are marginalized by our society carry within them a great treasure for the church.  It was in Lima that I learned that without prayer and community all my pastoral activities would end up in fruitless burnout."

Nouwen jumped right in and named this tension I've felt for years-- loving Latin America deeply, identifying the wealth it offers us in faith, hope, love, and knowledge, and yet failing to find our call in that place.

"... my desire to live and work with the poor in Latin America was not matched with a concrete call... I also started to see that niether God nor God's people was asking me to make Bolivia, Peru, Guatemala, or Nicaragua my permanent home.  My experiences there, exciting and rewarding as they were, never led me to that deep inner 'imperative' that forms the center of a true call."

Exactly!  People often ask me, when they learn I've spent 3 summers in Mexico City, if I want to work there long-term.  Of course I do!  But each time I go, my little ears perked and swiveling for hints, I see that no, there are Mexicans/ Peruvians/ others to do this work.  That's what brings me back to the land where I have an imperative. 

"I so much wish I could be with my friends again and share whatever comfort and consolation I have to offer.  But I know that I must stay where I am called to be and suffer my feelings of powerlessness in solidarity with them.  More than ever I have to be faithful to those who have been given to me and trust that my little faithfulness will bear fruit, even when I don't know how or when.  More than ever I have to claim the spiritual truth that the poor of the world-- whether in Peru, or Toronto, or wherever we may be-- are given to the church so that the church may be revitalized and so the fire of love that Jesus brought will remain ablaze in our world.
      More than ever I have to believe in Jesus, whose short life, few words, and limited actions were boundless in their radiance because of his radical obedience to God.  More than ever I have to rely on the prayer of the heart that allows me to embrace people of all times and all places even when my life will be short and my travels few.  More than ever I have to be free to love with a love that is simple, direct, and open to anyone at any time, in the unshakeable conviction that such love can cast out all fear and overcome all the powers of destruction and death."

Mixed Media

I know, I haven't posted art stuff for far too long!  (Implied confession: I haven't been adequately exercising that part of the brain and spirit.)  I was thinking about it (yeah, in which time I could have drawn SOMETHING!), and began to consider all the other, practical ways I find artistic expression.  For example:

     rearranging furniture in my room, hanging pictures, filling wallspace...

  modelling my ministry role...

       

          cutting my hair...  (all by myself for the first time today!!!  yay!)

   cooking pretty food...

                                  making home-made cards and envelopes to send...

So not all art goes in a box... or a frame.  I have to say that living with other artsily-inclined individuals definitely helps the creative juices.  I'll promise you - and myself - something more traditionally art-ful.... next week.

To the Limit

In setting out a schedule and goals for myself today, I was thinking about an observation from a CRM colleague in South Africa.  He pointed out that most Westerners operate in a crazy breakneck cycle of solid work followed by a solid escape, break(down?) or vacation. 

There's no point in my wasting even a second pretending that I haven't done precisely that on MULTIPLE occasions.  So I started wondering why?  The first thing that came to mind was a pride in knowing my limits-- just how much I can take-- and a twisted, determined frugality that doesn't want to waste that capacity.  I do the same daredevil stunt with my car's gas tank.  (Yes, daredevil in my life involves some gasoline in a hose and a debit card.)  I like to get the tank as empty as possible before I stop to refuel.  Not at a half- or quarter-tank, but plumb empty.  And after 8 years with my Corolla, I know pretty well when that is.  Stopping earlier is somehow a capitulation, a confession of weakness and uncertainty.

With my life and with my car, I calculate according to an endpoint-- a limit.  Sure, I can do 4 days with less sleep.  I can handle a nonstop schedule for a week, right?  I can keep offering to help out-- as long as I haven't hit my end yet. 

But I have a feeling that abundant life is not found at the edge of a stranded breakdown.  So I'm looking for a rhythm of frequent refueling, and I'm lifting my gaze from that bottom line.  For surely, surely, satisfaction stems from things more profound than making it to the red E.

How to Meet the Neighbors

In moving different places, it's become clear that there is a narrow window of opportunity before it becomes quite awkward to make first contact with one's neighbors.  I've been thinking about strategies that work...

-delivering homemade cookies
  *** extra-effective if done while the power is out ***
-strolling by with a dolly/ moving equipment (obvious conversation-starter)
-wandering outside during high-traffic times: when trash goes out or when normal people get home from work
-sitting in common spaces: stoops, patios, laundry rooms
-mowing the yard with outrageously antiquated, environmentally friendly equipment  (another fail-safe conversation-starter)
-borrowing things and/ or asking for help (tools, blenders, an egg, etc.)

Other ideas?

Unpacked

Finally, bags are empty.  Drawers are full.  And I mostly know where things are. 

My car is being titled as a Californian, and I'm following suit with a voter's registration and license to match.

I haven't given this level of commitment to any place since I left home after high school.  In Massachusetts and Miami (and obviously Mexico City and Lima and all the other adventures in between), I held firmly to my Tennessee ties.  California wouldn't let me do that.  Literally, the state has strict residency laws that I couldn't get around.  =)  In some ways, though, it's refreshing to be all in.  Of course my family would still welcome me back home in a heartbeat (and I'm incredibly grateful for that), but I have taken my stuff and my car and my job to another place, so for now, it's home.

When I crossed the deserts of the southwest last month, I thought a lot about God taking the people of Israel through the desert.  I understood in a deeper way the profound meaning of springs and pools and blooms showing up in such a desolate place.  The thing about deserts is that they FORCE you to keep moving.  There's not even the slightest temptation to settle down and put up a white picket fence.  That would be ridiculous!  And so, as I see this time of wandering and formation as a time to let God lead and teach me in the way I should go, I think a little desert mentality can be a good thing.  San Diego isn't exactly wilderness, but it's not Canaan either.

Bags unpacked, but within easy reach.

Inspired

That was my primary reaction to the week of staff orientation (called First Things) with Church Resource Ministries.  Having technically been hired 9 months earlier, I didn't have huge expectations for the loaded week of sessions, training and activities.  But I really appreciated the work, thought and prayer that went into bringing staff on board well.  Even though I had completed my initial support-raising, the concepts taught were solid reinforcements to my own experiences.  Above all, the ethos of CRM shone through 7 full days.  There was a clear priority and emphasis placed on THE first thing in life and ministry: our relationship to Jesus.  Incredible people shared their stories and feedback to sharpen one another.  Vulnerability was clearly valued, with open tears and personal testimonies.  I was impressed by the fact that nearly everyone I spoke with mentioned a major point of growth that they had encounted in the past year or two.  No one had all their stuff figured out and squared away, regardless of age and experience.

Of course, we also went through financial protocols, IRS compliance and checklists galore.  There's no way to make some of those things living, inspiring pieces.  That's okay.  Through it all was a conviction of being in the right place at the right time.  I'm glad for new friendships, new respect for CRM, and new checkpoints with which to hone the ways I pursue ministry and call.  Onward we go!

"A woman loves beyond her questions
and dreams beyond her doubts."

I reached into my raincoat after writing yesterday's blog post and found those lyrics scribbled on a scrap of paper.  From an old (1991) Steve Wariner song-- totally out of context, but a well-written line.

Life with Questions

The wind is whipping savagely today-- it's an ugly snarl of weather compared to the gentle, sunny days I've known so far in San Diego.  In Tennessee I would worry about tornadoes.  In Miami I would have thought of tropical storms.  But here, I guess it's just wind?

Living in a new place gives you so much to learn.  Of course, there are the weather patterns-- which winds mean what, the cloud color that foretells rain, the quality of sunshine that will last for days.  There are the traffic patterns-- how to get where, what part of town to avoid when, which roads make good stand-bys and back-ups.  And then there are the people patterns-- who lives, who thrives, who fights and struggles.  Who buys what, and where.  Who is out on my street - and where are they from - and where are they going?
Even with the howling wind, I hear strains of the trucks that cruise the neighboring streets, selling something (I haven't actually seen them yet, just heard their competing tunes).  It's not the sing-song of an ice cream truck, but a trumpeting patriotic strain of bugling.  Its competitor (I imagine) toodles something similar to "Do your ears hang low?"  My roommate thinks they're vegetable vendor trucks.
Most afternoons, the little girl next door spends some time with an improvised tetherball.  It's something ball-ish, round, wrapped in grocery sacks, linked together and tied to a pole.

I spent a lot of the past week trying to figure out where I would be living for the imminent future here in San Diego.  (For those who don't know, my current house is going into foreclosure, so I needed a new place starting in February.  And God has provided!)  I looked, I prayed, I met potential roommates.  And I kept wondering, "Okay, really, am I here to be seriously invested in my community?  Or am I just going to live there?" 

In the past, I've let myself be content with unanswered questions-- questions about the veggie trucks, or the neighbors, or the girl playing plastic-bag tetherball.  I ask the questions - in my head, or maybe to a few friends - and the fact that I have the slip of information to ask makes me feel smart and observant.  I live there.  And I spin some stories out in my head.

I don't think that's the point of living, or the point of questions.  Questions are meant to create opportunities and incite something different.  Even when what they incite is not an answer, in the strictest sense, questions push us forward and outward, to a place of risk.  So, though I'm leaving Lantana Drive, I take questions with me.  Questions to ask and questions to live and questions that invite me to relate to other humans with a little extra love and concern.

Road-Trip Recap

From east to west, old friends, new friends, and SAND.  Sorry, didn't start taking pictures 'till halfway... Texas and Arkansas just didn't capture the imagination, for some reason.

Ready to Faspa?!  (traditional Mennonite meal for afternoons-- we overindulged after Abby's wedding) Seminole, TX

White Sands Nat'l Monument, NM.

Yellow sands on the Mexican border, west of Mexicali, CA, I think.

Made it to the Pacific Ocean!!!  San Diego, CA.

No awards here for great documentation, but it's a little taste of what we went through.  This land is your land, this land is my land...  =)

New City Sweet Home.

I made it to San Diego.  Thoughts to come on crossing the country and revving up.  For now, rest and re-orientation in a new place.

Finding Home

"Home.  What kinder place could there be on earth, and why did it seem to them all like exile?  Oh, to be passing anonymously through an impersonal landscape!  Oh, not to know every stump and stone, not to remember how the fields of Queen Anne's lace figured in the childish happiness they had offered to their father's hopes, God bless him.
"She had to speak to neighbors in their gardens, to acquaintances she met on the sidewalk.  Strangers in some vast, cold city might notice the grief in her eyes, even remember it for an hour or two as they would a painting or a photograph, but they would not violate her anonymity.  But these good souls would worry about her, mention her, and speculate to one another about her.  Dear God, she saw concern in their eyes, regret...
"That odd capacity for destitution, as if by nature we ought to have so much more than nature gives us.  As if we are shockingly unclothed when we lack the complacencies of ordinary life.  In destitution, even of feeling or purpose, a human being is more hauntingly human and vulnerable to kindnesses because there is the sense that things should be otherwise, and then the thought that what is wanting and what alleviation would be, and how the soul could ever be put at ease, restored.  At home.  But the soul finds its own home if it ever has a home at all."

-from Home by Marilynne Robinson

Praying for Christmas Joy

"Glory to you, O God!  Peace on earth!  Good will toward all people! 

My spirits sag, my voice stammers, as the angel song rings out once more.  For there is all too little of your glory to be discerned through the murky disarray of these times.  Surely there is no peace on earth.  Goodwill is thinned out and spread lightly upon the surface of human relationships.  The nations growl at one another, and the peoples of the earth shudder beneath the threat of annihilation.  Will the spirit of peace and goodwill prevail, O Lord?  Will the nations beat swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks?  The hope comes surging back as the angels sing against the skies of Christmas once again.
But even as I hope once more, I examine myself.  And in the light of the Christmas star, my spirits sag to half-mast and my voice stammers into confession of my own inadequacies.  I do not feel much glory in life right now.  I say "Merry Christmas," but it lacks much of a shine.  I am hurried and harried, my nerves all ajangle.  I take a time of peace and sing about it, while my nervous system screams protest against the pressures of the season. 
Sometimes, even when my good will is forced, and my jolly words are pushed through clinched teeth, I wish the whole thing were behind me so that I could be my cranky, crotchety self again, without feeling guilty.  Yet when I stop to think, I do not really wish it were all behind me.  I know there is a beauty I must not miss.  So relieve my mind and relax my tension by your Spirit, O God.  Take the pressure off and let me feel the Presence of the Child of Bethlehem."

-Rev. Dr. Kenneth Phifer

I really do like to feel what I'm supposed to feel at a given time.  At funerals, it is much more convenient to feel sad than to giggle uncontrollably at a wonky line in a hymn.  On birthdays, I want to feel upbeat about life.  In a class or workshop, I'm supposed to feel studious and inquisitive.  I think holidays carry a double-edged stress because there are so many idealized "supposed-to's" involved.  Christmas is king of that, with a trouncing religious celebration accompanied by family gooshiness by the ton.  And yet... we try to celebrate the birth of the savior of the world in the midst of troublesome people.  Those people get sick and they get short-tempered and their problems don't go away just because we're in a holiday season. 

Nor should their problems be sufficient to smother the beauty that we must not miss.  Even when I don't feel like pasting on a smile for bells and reindeer, there is a song to be sung-- a song that cries out for Emmanuel to come, that cries out for a world that needs the hope of Jesus, that cries out for all of us feeling the wrong things and looking for what's right.

Call for Connections

A way to test the connectivity potential of the web... =)  Driving a route from Nashville to San Diego, I'm looking for a few friendly places to stay as the year turns and I move west (Dec. 30 - Jan. 4).  Obviously with driving, I have some flexibility.  Know anyone along a route that hits Texarkana, Dallas and Tucson?  (Basically jumping down interstates 40, 30, 20 and 10!)

Let me know!

Ch-ch-ch-changes!

I haven't posted raw facts for awhile, mostly because I've been in a sort of neutral gear.  Not that things haven't been moving, but the motor hasn't been revved for any hills or rises.  That's good for me, I think-- as a person who loves to work and strive and get over the next hill and around the next bend.  As I putter along in the quiet of a stalled engine, God does astounding, wonderful things.

1.  Funding.  Wondrously, miraculously arrived at 93% funded.  Because nearly half of that came in one-time cash gifts that will parse out to see me through part of the year, I know that I'm nowhere close to being able to put up my feet and call it done, but it's still a fantastic thing to see.  Particularly because it gives me the go-ahead to...
2.  MOVE!  I have begun looking at maps and routes, and the current plan is to start driving right before New Year's, attend a dear friend's wedding in Texas, and roll into San Diego in the first week of January.
3.  And I will live in City Heights!  Thanks be to God, I have a place to live confirmed, with 2 housemates who've been living there for awhile (both women who work for InterVarsity in community colleges, who have also been on the Global Urban Trek-- fun connections).  The short version of the story is that a friend connected us in August, knowing that I was getting ready to come to San Diego... at some point.  Unfortunately, I had to keep pushing back my relocation date as I continued to raise support.  In October, I gave up trying to hold on to this living situation and assumed I was back to square one.  Along came the end of November, the plan to move SOON, and the need to find housing.  I began asking around again, and the room was still available!  Hooray!  The landlord hadn't charged rent on that room, simply praying that "the right person would come along to fill it." 

What peace-filled, wonderful gifts.  Many, many answers to prayer are woven through all the developments of the past few weeks, and I give thanks and praise to the God who is the author and giver of all good things.

Keeping Facebook

Great to hear from several folks in reaction to the last post in criticism of Facebook and similar media.  To confirm my flip-flopping non-alignment with the previous post-er =), here I'll share a Twitter bit in favor of using social media for the good of the gospel (thanks to Hannah for sending this to me!).  John Piper puts it eloquently:

Yes, there is truth in all of that, but instead of boycotting, try to fill these media with as much provocative, reasonable, Bible-saturated, prayerful, relational, Christ-exalting, truth-driven, serious, creative pointers to true greatness as you can.

I agree with Piper that not everyone is called to that-- it's for each person to work out how they will glorify God.  Not all of us should write books (or blogs!), any more than all of us should preach - or build buildings - or tend the sick - and so on.  I'll admit that some days when I log into facebook, my thoughts are centered on what a random person would perceive about me: what do my pictures and posts and interests and quotes say about me?  Those are days I'm not proud of; those are days I'd be better off writing a letter!  My hope is that the corrective is discipline, rather than amputation.  It's a discipline-- and a joy-- to exalt Christ and express love to my friends and acquaintances through various media.  I fondly think of a friend who, in reference to Christian responses to proliferating technologies, said that it seemed plausible that Jesus would have used a cell phone for its advantages-- and the Apostle Paul definitely would.

I think of that often in these fierce musings about whether we twitter or blog or call or email or send a status update.  I love the image of Paul with a cell phone, perhaps angrily pacing around while on the line with Corinth.  But it's true!  Paul thought it was vitally important to be in touch with the people he loved and the churches he had invested in.  As a man of integrity, he did what he could to minister to them over distances and through his sufferings.  Likewise, sorting through our menu of social outlets, will [facebook/ blackberry/ twitter/ etc.] advance our work and mission, or will it drag us down?  It's closely linked to questions of what it means to choose to live simply-- and to what end?  That's a much bigger discussion!

In the meantime, I'm content to do what I can, reaching people how I can-- with a patchwork of facebook and email, phone calls and meetings, skypes and texts and good old fashioned cards every now and then.  Be well, do good work, and keep in touch [by whatever means necessary]!

Leaving Facebook?

In the immortal words of Fiddler on the Roof-- "Unheard of!  Absurd!"  But in reality, I've heard more and more murmurs of discontent with the social network leviathan recently.  Whether from my peers' discontent with how much it's changed since we were in college, or from deeper philosophical sources like the blog excerpt below, that discontent raises good questions.  I've just pulled a tiny bit of Dan's writing on the matter:

so why did i leave facebook? haha. all in all it was a personal decision. all the arguments above weighed heavily on and largely influenced the train of thought that led me to now. which is why i spent so much time explaining them (hopefully i did it coherently enough). for the most part facebook was full of conversations about nothing. it’s a metaphor for narcissism among other things. we’ve recreated ourselves anew in the image of our ego. or rather we are created in the image of our technology. so we create our own gods. so perhaps all this is a really perverted form of vanity for we are idolizing ourselves. obviously this was not mine or anyone else’s intent upon first entering the medium but that’s why its significant to understand the metaphor. on facebook, you can be a new person. you can be a different person. you can be you! of course a person can seemingly use it responsibly but it still doesn’t justify how one imposes upon oneself a meaningless and impotent metaphor for being.


there’s also the argument for facebook being a rolodex of sorts, enabling us to keep in touch with people despite time and distance, you know, social networking. to this, each his/her own i suppose. but again i would set forth the argument of the impact of globalism. back in the day people’s communities were local. they sent letters to those far away or they didn’t and that was that. their narratives were stronger in that the wellness of their community was contingent upon the intimacy and proximity of its members. by stronger narratives i mean they had stories to tell. this idea of narrative warrants another post in and of itself but by and large its power is lost on us today. we no longer tell stories because there’s no need for it in a globalized community. which is why keeping in touch is a weak excuse when we do not even know our neighbors next door. unfortunately its all things local that suffer and the idea of ‘neighbor’ is fast becoming a social artifact. and of course the ramifications of such runs deep and wide especially when that jesus guy mentions a lot about it..neighbors. we have to wonder whether its the words that need redefining or if its something larger and systemic that needs fixing.


 if one is honest with themselves it is in fact a lie and a selfish thing to think facebook provides a way of community. at least this is what i found to be true for myself. sorry, i shall try my best not to universalize my experiences. the people i care about that are not local to me i already keep in touch with through means other than facebook. but i know i can do better. but i have not in the past because there was always the ease of facebook. it is in fact a crutch to genuine relationship. not quantity but quality. an example. recently someone sarah and i know and love became pregnant. instead of learning of it on facebook, we were graced with a call from the source herself. of course, if we were on facebook, we would’ve learned about it all the sooner but by eliminating the medium that stood between us, it made the learning of that knowledge and the experience of it that much more visceral. that much more poignant. that much more real.

Baby of the Family

Jack brought home his new puppy almost 2 weeks ago, and "Leroy" is definitely the first, favored grandchild.  He can't lift a paw without a chorus of "awwwww".  He'll be 8 weeks old in 2 days... we'll see how long the extraordinary cuteness lasts.

They love each other.

Will You Conspire?

I am adamantly opposed to Christmas trees, lights, and carols before Thanksgiving.

However, because many start discussing family strategems for the NEXT holiday while gathered for this one, I am conceding and sharing this video, because it's a powerful invitation to reconsider Advent/ Christmas/ the coming of Christ.  I know: it's not always fun to buck traditions.  But it might be right to buck some traditions.  Think about how much of commercial Christmas is designed to make you feel worse if you don't consume enough, buy enough, or spend enough.  Consider.  Conspire.



Disclaimer: I find it very difficult to run against the grain even in my own family, where holidays aren't extravagant... but the giving is still generous, and it feels like rather uncertain territory to take the focus off the THINGS that we want/ give/ receive. So I'm just saying, I found this video inspiring. It makes me want to keep trying. Keep seeking. Start seeing in Christmas the world-changing, light-bringing event that it is.

Changing Season

Yesterday I looked around, and the scene was suddenly bare and brown.  The glowing orange trees along the driveway, whose color I had savored with each early evening sunset, were done. 

At that moment, it seemed profoundly similar to my "sudden" switch as I begin to plan for life on the west coast, now aiming to move with the first of the year.  How can a transition be sudden when you've had your eyes tracking it for almost a year?  (Why is it a mild shock to see trees bared for winter?)  Yet, realities like health insurance and housing have a way of making it real!

So, the seasons change in that mysterious methodical way.  The sun slants differently.  Life shifts gears. 

Bright Shining Glory

ARISE [from the depression and prostration in which circumstances have kept you--rise to a new life]! Shine (be radiant with the glory of the Lord), for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you!
- Isaiah 60:1 -

God loves you.  God knows you.  When God's attention, gaze, and concern fall upon you, though, what's it like?  With a sharp intake of breath and a slight squirm, I realized how acutely uncomfortable I felt about that.  Thinking of God paying attention to me directly felt like standing on a stage in a glaring-hot spotlight.  Embarrassed, afraid, wondering why there wasn’t someone else who could be standing there to act/ dance/ perform/ whatever.  In my mind's ear, there was a mortified sizzle as I melted onto the dark stage.  Lord only knew who might be watching from the black space beyond the stage-lights, but I sure didn't want to be on display for them.

Yet, I am coming to realize that God wants that light of his glory on his people—it is a thing intended to be GOOD—and as I slowly accept God's brilliance and my place in it, it begins to feel more like a warm, enveloping kind of glow in which to dance (or do whatever) confidently. No longer a place of danger or fear but of God’s love and pleasure.  God's light-- God's glory-- isn't too much for me.  I don't need to duck into the wings, or shield my eyes, or desperately push someone else onto centerstage.  I was made to be radiant.  If the light has come, ain't no shame in it.

"Glory of the LORD."  Collage of paper & mixed media.  Nov. 2009

Where are all the Exorcists?

Wanted to post a fabulous sermon (download free, or if you don't have iTunes, you can listen online here) by Brian Blount, president of Union Presbyterian Seminary.  He preached it last spring at Duke's Martin Luther King, Jr. Lecture Series.  In it, Blount takes on the brief story of Mark 9:38-39, where the disciples proudly come to Jesus with something to say: "Teacher," said John, "we saw a man driving out demons in your name and we told him to stop, because he was not one of us."

Is the most important thing to be "one of US?"  The in-group, Christians, holy huddlers, disciples.  Or is the important thing to cast out demons?  To call on the power of Jesus' name, to be FOR the good things that God is doing.  And what would it mean to be both a Christian AND an exorcist?  I can't do Blount's argument justice, so you should really listen yourself.  But for a peek at the sermon's climax:

"To be a Christian exorcist you've gotta be a sojourner of truth wherever you encounter a lie.  To be a Christian exorcist, you've gotta be able to declare 'I have a dream' and be ready to live out that dream in this nightmarish world.  To be a Christian exorcist, you must be willing to change the world in Jesus' name even when the people who run this world and claim allegiance to Jesus do everything in their power to shut you down.  We need exorcists who will raise their voices in unconventional ways."

Challenging Abundance

About this time last year, I was desperately doling out produce. We had had a mild autumn here in Tennessee, and in spite of an extended drought, tomatoes and apples in particular produced in droves. For me, it was a dramatic manifestation of reaping where I did not sow—house-sitting and taking in the harvest. Week after week, I battled to find ways to eat and share bushels of food before losing it to rot and mold. I was generous (carrying bags of fruit everywhere with me) and I was creative (apple crisps, tomato sauces, freezing, drying…), but it seemed like the supply would never run out.

As cold weather began to set in, over 30 pounds of apples remained on the porch. No one at church wanted any more. Neighbors had their own apples to eat. I had made enough apple pie. And then we had our house painted. I cautiously told the painters they could take as many apples as they wanted. The next day, we found the empty sack on the porch. What an incredible relief!

I thought a lot about that experience last Thanksgiving, and I find myself remembering it again now in the final days of the church stewardship season. I remember how thankfulness for home-grown tomatoes turned into dread of rotten tomatoes. The thrill of picking apples by the bagful became guilt over piles of softening apples. But without mold or worms or decay, what tells us how much is too much? What triggers our switch from gratitude to guilt? I can’t think of any other resource I’ve ever sought to share as desperately as I did those fruits last fall. The gravity of the country’s economic recession was becoming more obvious, and I had more than I possibly needed. I learned in tangible terms the problem of too much and its relief-filled solution of abundant generosity.

I don’t think it would have made me nearly as happy if the painters had taken a small bag of the apples, leaving me a little stash in case I wanted another batch of apple sauce. The thrill was that they were all gone—taken off my hands.

Can we accept the challenge that abundance brings? Are we up for knowing when enough is enough, working to put it to good use, and being delighted when it’s gone?

“Jesus looked him hard in the eye—and loved him! He said, ‘There’s one thing left: Go sell whatever you own and give it to the poor. All your wealth will then be heavenly wealth. And come follow me.’
“The man’s face clouded over. This was the last thing he expected to hear, and he walked off with a heavy heart. He was holding on tight to a lot of things, and not about to let go.”     -Mark 10:21-22

Drop Everything

Mixed Media, September 2009

It had been awhile since I'd done much art, and I tried diving back in this fall-- as a discipline and a joy.  This was a first attempt, after a few other paper-and-glue creations. 
What happens when we stop juggling and let the balls stay in the air?

Strains of False Fellowship

Been thinking a lot lately about being known by people and how completely, incredibly different it is to be known by God. We need both; we were created for both; yet sometimes it seems so much easier to hold back to ourselves. And then this devotional was yesterday’s soothing word from the book I mentioned a few weeks ago: Jesus Calling by Sarah Young.

“Come to me with your defenses down, ready to be blessed and filled with My Presence. Relax, and feel the relief of being totally open and authentic with me. You have nothing to hide and nothing to disclose, because I know everything about you already. You can have no other relationship like this one. Take time to savor its richness, basking in my golden light.

One of the worst consequences of the Fall is the the elaborate barriers people erect between themselves and others. Facades abound in the world, even in my body, the church. Sometimes, church is the last place where people feel free to be themselves. They cover up with Sunday clothes and Sunday smiles. They feel relief when they leave because of the strain of false fellowship. The best antidote to this artificial atmosphere is practicing my presence at church. Let your primary focus be communing with me, worshiping me, glorifying me. Then you will be able to smile at others with my joy and love them with my love.”

On the Map

Travel:  heading out to Bear Trap Ranch (Colorado) for InterVarsity Global Debriefing through the weekend!  Excited for the opportunity to be with other directors who were overseas this past summer, to retreat, to meet, and probably to see some snow.  =)

Funding:  now at 71%!!!  That leaves only $1,000 to raise in monthly support.  Please continue to pray for God's provision with new and growing partnerships of support.

Me:  doing well, staying busy between church, Spanish translation, and fundraising.  Last week for the first time I began to feel truly content and trust-ful about the process.  Feeling the need to be more brave and adventuresome in my support-raising conversations, but also feeling ready to do that.  Praise God.