Category Archives: Uncategorized

Ignited by a Fire That Will Never Burn Out ((Thoughts on Wanting to be Understood))

Posted on by

1

I never realized how badly the desire to be understood rested dormant in my heart until waterworks poured from eyes sitting down at a newcomer’s meeting one Sunday morning this past spring. I drove forty minutes southbound to a church I’ve always wanted to go to whose founder has authored writings that have put words to all that I feel in my heart, allowing me to sigh, wow. Someone else who thinks like me. Someone with whom my questions are not only safe, but welcomed, encouraged. So when the woman giving the newcomers’ overview asked me for my name and I burst out crying, I realized that for one of the first times in a very long time, I knew I was in a safe place where I could be understood. Where no daggers would be thrown at me. Where I could grow in my faith without being chastised for asking difficult questions. Where I would be met by other people, walking in faith, who aren’t afraid to acknowledge wounds that the Church has caused, and offer an opportunity to start anew, welcomed with however little or however much faith you possess. I can’t explain to you the peace I felt to be present in a community in which I knew I was welcomed, genuinely welcomed, to explore the Ancient of Days knowing that I was not in a room full of Bible-quoting, finger pointing Evangelicals. Instead, I felt like I had literally been ushered into the arms of Jesus himself.

I knew that that rainy Sunday in April was the start to a new beginning in my journey of faith; one in which I officially surrendered trying to be someone I’m not, letting go of my college Evangelical days in which I sat uncomfortably in my seat, cringing each time I heard that anyone who didn’t accept Jesus into their heart would spend eternity burning in Hell, but too afraid to speak up and say politely that I really didn’t want to pass tracts around campus after class on Friday. Ever.

I now know that I don’t fit in many Christian circles but I can’t let go of this incessant longing for the Divine. My heart is with the thirsty, for those who yearn for something more but don’t necessarily know what it looks like.

I do know that part of it looks like letting so of stringent views about theology. I am frustrated with the walls I’ve seen so many in the church put up. Holding signs that say, “God created Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve” doesn’t exactly help a fellow hungry human being feel closer to God, much less change their sexual identity, if that’s the “agenda’” you’re after. Writing books about Hell, emphasizing that “we can’t get it wrong” doesn’t exactly help the person with questions looking for hope feel welcomed.

But besides all of that, I am tired of wasted time spent on arguing over theological debates instead of fostering loving relationships. I don’t want to lose any more friends; I also don’t care if you think I’m a heretic; and above all, I really just want to be your friend. I don’t care if you believe in eternal punishment for those who don’t profess Jesus or if you do believe that Jesus did it once and for all to “save” everybody.

I don’t care anymore.

All that I’m concerned about is if you are finding God in this journey. That you are finding freedom and joy and peace and some mess and some conflict and some yes-es and some no-s and questions, LOTS of them. I hope that you can find peace in your storms, comfort in your sadness, grace for every time you fall. I hope your journey is about feeling appropriately small when gazing upwards at the Heavens, in awe of so glorious a Maker. I hope your journey finds God in unexpected places, far from steeples and tracts, like in the smile of the poor, in the playfulness of a child. I pray your faith encourages you to spend time with those who are different from you and challenges you to find the image of God in all you come in contact with. I pray your hurts get healed, and that you would come to realize that God is kinder, that God is warmer, that God is more loving than you have ever dared to imagine. I pray you find your hands holding God’s and that your shoulders will be squeezed in a heavenly embrace and that you won’t want to let go of this moment because this moment is exactly what you have been longing to experience all this time. I pray you never go parched, but oh, that you would still maintain your hunger and your thirst and may it draw you straight into the arms of your Creator, beyond understanding, until your soul is dancing, on fire, ignited by a flame that will never burn out.

The second time I went back to this church, I did cartwheels on the church property with a new church friend. By far, my most favorite Sunday afternoon to date.

Ways in Which to Make Myself Look Back on my Twenties and say I Lived it Well.

Posted on by

0

Accept that change is inevitable. Develop the skills and capacity to see God’s hand in whatever change is occurring. Even good change must be grieved. Learn to put your love for the water to use by rolling with the waves of life. Swim with the wave and let it move you, rather than fighting it only to get crashed down.

Go to Colorado. Make sure to visit family; let those feet experience the trails of the Rockies. Breathe in a peaceful, deep breath of fresh air, and when you do, gaze skyward and say “thanks” to God for every fugacious moment of your life.

Advance your career towards things you’re more passionate about.

Keep writing.

Do small things frequently with great love.

Compete in a half ironman.

Go back to Africa. (Before you’re thirty. You can go after too if you’d like.)

Participate in a flash mob.

Find some more friends who share a similar theology/worldview. Make friends with more people who don’t know what their spiritual beliefs are. Enjoy learning so much from them.

Say words of affirmation to others more frequently.

Rehearse love, God’s love, in your mind instead of worries.

Grow a tomato plant.

Simplify your faith. Let go of the constraining voices from certain faith community’s teachings that are eating up your energy.

Travel.
Travel.
Travel.

Worry about money less. Trust in God’s provision.

Explore what’s on your heart; don’t let anything that keeps resurfacing go unexamined. Ask God for a way to incorporate coaching into your life, perhaps alongside some type of women’s health/gender equality program.

Conserve water from your showers when you first turn the faucet on and wait for the temperature to adjust.

Write people cards. Even spend money sometimes on the really nice ones, like the Quoteable cards or UNICEF cards.

Practice contentment. Be wild and unruly, but in that process, express continual gratitude. If you are unsatisfied with something and you can change it, do something about it.

Learn that your passions need to be pursued because God has put them there for a reason, no matter how contrary they seem. If people use labels to describe you, give them an envelope to put the label on and go FedEx yourself back onto your journey of freedom in Christ.

Practice Christian unity. Remind yourself that no matter how much you may disagree with or feel hurt by certain faith teachings or practices, each of us is made imageo dei and each is saying, “Yes” to Jesus’ heart-beckoning call into the Kingdom of God the best way they know how. In light of so big a diety, ultimately our words and arguing will fall silent in the presence of this God… the God of love.

Take lots of pictures.
Speak hope.
Laugh at yourself.

And, as always,
Love life.
Be brave.
Play hard.

Forever and ever,

Your 25 year old self 

These Days

Posted on by

0

These days have an aura of holy and messy permission and rebellion. My “straight and narrow” map lie crumpled from never quite getting the folds aligned neatly. I’m suddenly remembering that God allows U-turns and pauses at scenic overlooks; that flat tires are a part of life (and keep the tire store in business), that there are days meant for sticking your feet out of the rolled down window of the passenger side, toes wiggling around in the warm wind.

These days I’m finding that I’m less concerned about where I’m going to church, and how often, and who might say what and react in what way if I miss a week or go to that church verses this church. I’m more concerned with living in community, in the many diverse ways that takes shape; whether in Tuesday prayer group with new friends who’ve welcomed me in the faith state exactly as I am with open arms; friends who haven’t found their next church, but get that it’s all about community. Whether it’s listening to the man on the front stoop down the street mourn the loss of his cat and realizing just what that cat meant to him, acutely aware of the human connection and longings for attachment. Whether it’s lying in the meadow near a bee apiary with a new friend, pondering what it means to learn to love the darkness and the light. Whether it’s in biking 52 miles with a group of Presbyterians or finding community through Thursday night running group, where one can start to learn people’s names, people’s stories. You bond over running, and running itself is a gift from God; to be able to move and run and think and breathe. I find God here. I don’t need a Bible to be open or a “worship song” to be sung. I’ve found God in the sun setting over the inner harbor and in watching people high five after their kick-me-in-the-ass, that-was-hard-but-I-feel-great now endorphin run. Runs that get me winded and in pain and forever reminded of my dependence upon God.

These days I’m less concerned with how much I am/am not/”should” be giving to church and more concerned with honoring the poor with my time and finances.

These days I’m less concerned by how many hours I “should” be serving, and determining which social justice ministry I “should” be a part of and more concerned with enjoying God and finding him there. God of trees and flowers. God of Sunday Sabbath walks, present in my skyward gazes. These days I’m more concerned with tangibly showing the people I care about that I actually care about them with my time and money.

These days I’m less concerned about saying the “right” things about the Bible and more excited about thoroughly examining what’s actually in here; the wrestling with God of genocide, infanticide, sexism, compassion, the call to serve the poor, the celebrations and laments of life spent worshipping the Ancient of Days…

These days I’m less concerned with finding exactly what entails “God’s will for my life,” as if every decision is black or white, clearly dichotomized as following Jesus or not. I’m less preoccupied with trying to “figure out” what His will is or is not and more excited about BEING in it with God. More accepting of the fact that God isn’t going to tell me the answer to every upcoming decision in the immediacy I would like. More accepting of the fact that sometimes “figuring out God’s will” means taking chances and risking failure and saying goodbye to living the innocuous life. Oh sometimes you live so small, you hand-crafted Child of God. I’m ready to let go of talking over every last thing with God as if God just wants to talk,talk,talk with us. Instead, I want go get on with the DOING, the being, the adventure. I want to dive in, making cannonball splashes with this God by my side, daring me to do life with Him, daring me to stop being so afraid of disappointing Him or of making the wrong decision. Instead, I will blithely smile, completely confident that he can see all that I cannot, and that he is the author who redeems and uses ALL THINGS for my good; yes, even the deserts that I have created out of my own self-focused fear of taking chances, as opposed to God-ordained time in the Sahara because God explicitly sent me there.

So oh, yes. Freedom is coming. It’s just starting to arrive; I’m strapped in, seated inside the clankety rollercoaster, almost reaching the pinnacle now; in fact, I can almost feel the rush of wind and the ebullient, fearfully excited scream ensued by the velocity of the downward fall of the track. Oh yes. I’ve swan-dived off the diving board; hair now wet from the pursuit of exploring the deep end. But this isn’t it. Though I’ve jumped in the pool, I haven’t yet tackled the ocean and hey, I just discovered a pair of fins, so maybe I’ll snorkel, or better yet, scuba dive…

Because there’s a deluge coming. And I can’t wait to get soaked.

Yes. That’s what I’m doing these days.

For Where Your [Treasury] is, There Your Heart Will be Also

Posted on by

0

April 30, 2012

With the same dollar that says, “In God we Trust,” America funds exploited foreign labor of men and women from developing countries in American combat zones in Iraq and Afghanistan. While attending an International Justice Mission advocacy workshop a couple of weeks ago, righteous anger filled my heart as I learned about this and the many horrors of labor trafficking stemming from U.S. government contracting. Volunteers imbued to do something about human trafficking took to Washington D.C. on April 16 to lobby for three specific bills that will address trafficking.

The one that grabbed my attention most was the End Trafficking in Government Contracting Act introduced in March 2012 by 11 senators and congress members from both political parties to address the deceptive and dehumanizing practice of foreign worker exploitation. Currently, the United States uses three main defense contractors (KGB, Fluor, and DynCorp International), who then subcontract to other subcontractors, subcontracting even further to reach global subcontractors, many of which are on the human-trafficking noncompliance list.1 These recruiter agents then go to countries such as India, Nepal, Bangladesh, and other developing countries to recruit locals, eager for employment. Individuals are promised a job in a big city like Dubai upon paying an exorbitant recruiting fee (an average of $3,000) to pay for a visa and travel. Since many individuals cannot afford this fee, they will go to a loan shark, where they are charged 35-45% interest or use their house as collateral.1 The individual is then given a tourist visa (not a permanent visa), and instead of arriving at a five star hotel in Dubai, they find themselves in the middle of a U.S. Combat Zone on a U.S. military base. Known as “third country nationals (TCNs),” these workers serve in occupations such as janitors, cooks, and hairdressers serving American Army men, women, and families, making half of the money they were promised, living in a dangerous environment.

Despite having a zero tolerance on human trafficking, more than 250,000 people have been victims of labor trafficking on U.S. government contracts in Iraq and Afghanistan over the past 10 years2; combat zones that we (the U.S.) created. Instead of starting our own war and dealing with the implications of that (that’s a whole other story), we are now suddenly bringing other countries’ citizens into our war, without their prior knowledge, through deceitful forced labor. Hidden in some contracts to TCNs are consent to work “seven days a week, twelve hours per day.”1 Additionally, there have been cases of harassment and repeated sexual abuse. 1 Some workers were housed on soiled mattresses with twenty five other migrants from countries around the world. Not only faced with harsh living conditions and paltry pay, workers face the risks of mortar fire, rocket attacks, and explosive devices. One woman interviewed in the New Yorker recalled that “a Kevlar helmet and bulletproof best sat at the foot of her bed.” Hardly the beauty salon in Dubai that she had been promised.1 Worse off, in an attempt to disrupt U.S. supply chains in 2004, Sunni militants kidnapped, blew up truckers, shot and even beheaded TCNs to send the message that they should be punished for working with the U.S.2 Many of these workers find themselves unable to escape their situations because their passports and other forms of documentation have been sequestered from them. For the few who do make it home, many encounter difficulties paying off their loans to the loan shark.

The End Trafficking in Government Contracting Act addresses these problems by promoting prevention, accountability, and enforcement. Contractors with contracts of over $1 million must implement compliance plans to prevent trafficking abuses such as confiscating passports, misrepresenting work location, and activities supporting the procurement of viable sex acts. This bill will improve accountability by requiring a contractor to notify the Inspector General if they receive “credible evidence” that a subcontractor has engaged in prohibited conduct. Investigations of such cases will be required and findings must be reported to the public. Finally, the bill will strengthen enforcement of polices by taking action against violations, including the removal of employee(s) or the debarment of the contractor.

While I think this bill is progress, I think there is a bigger issue at hand: Why are we creating policies to manage injustice rather than dismantling such systems? Why are we putting global citizens’ lives at risk in the first place? Why are we (the U.S.) paying men and women of developing countries unlivable wages, subjecting them to harassment, long work hours in dangerous conditions to begin with? Just to save money? Just so the casualties these workers are subjected to won’t be the death or injury of an American life? If Americans were hired for government work, labor polices would be in effect, including at least minimum wage, benefits, and liabilities. But we must not see third country nationals as deserving of such liberties, or else we would have already done so. We would have already made outcry and spoken instead of passively ignoring the issue with silence. It is our silence on such issues that sustain systems of corruption and injustice.

Whenever we value money over people, we will fail as humanity time and time again. When your priorities are power, defense, and capital, there is little room for respect and dignity. When we print, “In God We Trust” on our currency, are we trusting that God will bless our effort of military might and power, while ignoring our lack of dignity towards those of other countries? Do we trust that God supports our policies, however biased they are towards preserving American quality of life at all costs, simply because we sing “God Bless America” and have American flags in many of our churches? What does it say about the heart of America when our treasury funds a hierarchy of whose safety, well-being and labor “does” and “does not” really matter?

“For where you treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Imagine a world where our time, money, energy, and priorities, are spent on love. Imagine a world where we don’t trust in the little gods of flags and patriotism, but we trust in the God of the Nations. Imagine a world where a Nepali life is valued as much as an American life. Imagine a world where we might be able to consider asking for God’s blessing because we not only love our neighbors, but we love and do good to our enemies. Imagine a world less focused on its borders and boundaries and a world that realizes that no matter which part of the Earth we reside, we are all ONE- humanity and life itself unite us, not our flags and fences. It seems to me that if we’re a nation that “trusts God,” then we should start trusting in the Kingdom values— That when Jesus talks about storing up treasures in Heaven, he meant that we are to invest in the attitudes and practices of the Kingdom of God: LOVE. What we spend our time, money, energy, voice, and very life on reveals what’s important in our lives, reveals what we stand for. Better than bills, greater than policy change, is loving and serving others (no matter the race or nationality), treating each person as you would like to be treated. THAT is worth placing our treasure in, and our hearts will be always and forevermore be changed.

So, what do you think?—

Are the lives of people in other countries valued as much as the lives of American people?

How can we support fair labor practices, not just in government contracting, but in our everyday purchases/expenditures?

Edmund Burke once said, “All that’s necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men [and women!] do nothing.” How do you feel about this?

________

To learn more:
1. (2011, November 2). Are government contractors exploiting workers overseas? Examining enforcement of the trafficking victims protection act. http://oversight.house.gov/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/11-2-11-Subcommittee-on-Technology-Information-Policy-Intergovernmental-Relations-and-Procurement-Reform-Hearing-Transcript.pdf

2. Stillman, Sarah. (2011, June 6). The invisible army: For foreign works on U.S. bases in Iraq and Afghanistan, war can be hell. Retreived from www. Newyorker.com/reporting/2011/06/06/110506fc_fact_stillman

3. http://www.wartimecontracting.gov/

To act:
-Support the End Trafficking in Government Contracting Act of 2012 here: https://www.popvox.com/bills/us/112/hr4259

–Email, call, fax, or meet with your representatives and ask them to support anti-trafficking initiatives. Thank your legislators that do. Many organizations already have pre-filled email submission forms requesting support for legislature that individuals can sign for the organization to deliver. Check out the email campaigns of IJM.org and one.org.

-Write an op-ed to your local newspaper explaining key trafficking issues, pieces of legislature that address them, and encourage community participation in any local anti-trafficking events. Create your own event if none exist. Changing the world is easier than you think 🙂

Thoughts on the Bible. ((That read more like questions))

Posted on by

0

The most persistent question I find myself thinking about lately is, “what are you going to do about this book? [The Bible]” This timeless, mystifying, violent, inspiring, anger-inducing, pulse-escalating, explicit, imbuing, peaceful, clashing, countercultural, unexplainable book? The finite capacity of my intelligence cannot perspicaciously explain it. I cannot comprehend the fact that I arrived on this planet on a day that I have no memory of, where this book would be given to me five or six different times in various translations, where I would have to deal with questions, lots of them. What emphasis will this hold in my life? Will I join in heated arguments over this book’s etymology, hermeneutics, syntax, and translation? Will I tell someone that,”no, this is what [Paul] really meant,” or will I patiently listen to a fellow human being trying to do their best in figuring out how to apply 2,000 year old teachings to this present moment in society? Will I walk, simply and peacefully in the words of Jesus? Will I accept that there is violence, genocide, infanticide, and graphic murder in here committed by a God who is described as, “love?” Will I join in on this life-long conversation between God and myself or will I keep this book shut? Will I pretend there are no difficult-to-swallow passages? Will I blindly accept that this book is “true and inerrant” like I have heard proclaimed so frequently? Will I allow myself to be pulled into a deeper story, lulled by the love of a Creator, my creator? Will I choose not to fight against the propensity my heart has towards a God I can’t explain, a spirit that daily sustains and comforts me? Never have I read anything like it. Never has one book generated so much discussion, animosity, and unity for as many years as this one. Who really wrote it? Sometimes I wish I could be around one of the first circles to hear the teachings of this book; before printers and book presses, gathered around the fire with my family, friends, and teachers, inspired by the faith that’s sustained the people before me, and the people before them, until you’re staring at the start of it all, the first moment of creation. “I’ll tell you how the sun rose one ribbon at a time…”

I will wrestle with you on this one, Lord… some days it may look like a junior varsity wrestler preparing for the first match of the season, and other days, it will look like two kids laughing and splashing in a pool, on top of each other’s shoulders, blithely playing Chicken Fight, or whatever it was called. And some days, the wrestling will stop all together, as we will roll down hills, lay near river banks, and climb trees together, singing about Amazing Grace and Flying Away.

I’m thankful you’re patient with me, Lord, as I try to figure out my best response to this book. May my life be different because of it. May my life be challenged because of it. May my soul be satisfied with rich mystery and wonder, and shun the trite and quick ‘answers’ commonly associated with this precarious position of being a person of faith. And lastly, may I come to know you, may I be moved by you, may I be loved as your child, until we meet together face to face, laughing about the old days…

I love you. 

On This Ground I Dance Upon Called Earth

Posted on by

0

On Rest and Renewal

I always am blown away by spring. Breathless, I delight in the colors of spring, dizzy by their hues and shapes. I am drunken by the intoxicating  fragrance of magnolia blossoms. I am constantly in awe of new buds on trees, blowing on wishies, plucking wildflowers from the ground as I place them my hair.

Today was one of those beautiful spring days where that feeling just seeps into the enclaves of the chambers and walls of my lungs, heart, and arteries; a day where you are convinced that you are literally breathing in life, with every breath.

Brian whipped out his camera as we marveled over the reflection of the blue sky on a water droplet on the leaf of a daffodil. I got up close to a baby bee roaming around on a weeping cherry blossom tree. I looked at it from different angles until I was literally staring into its eyes.

We went on a “Sabbath Walk,” where we barely spoke to each other except for a few faint whispers, “I saw a fox!” We meander through creeks and logs and hear the chirps of birds high above, singing joyfully. My mind feels like I need to be doing something, need to be praying, need to be singing a worship song to God, but I realize that I have no words; that all too often I rush around doing things when really all I need is to be. To learn from the joyous songs of the birds, to listen to the cool creek water trickle down hills, and be completely convinced that there is nothing in life I need to worry about. It’s hard to feel anxious when surrounded by such beauty. It’s hard to dwell on your fears when you realize that if God can help flowers grow, He can surely help you with whatever is so pressing on your mind.

Time stops in such moments. Nothing else matters in these moments. I decided yesterday that I will continue to create time and space to make sure I have these moments of quiet awe-filled worship on a weekly basis, because in those moments, as I’m captivated by nature, or breathless by stars that are so so so so far away, I realize that there is so much more going on here than we realize. That nothing is normal about this human experience; that there’s these little tiny things called cells and they make up the leaves to plants, animals and human beings. That right now I am actually standing somewhere on an Earth that is moving and rotating, though I can’t even feel it. I am held down to this Earth by gravity, which keeps me from falling off. I.can’t.even.feel.it.

Flipping through scripture, I am always refreshed when I hear God speak about creation. Jesus tells us to look at the birds (Matthew 6:25) and to learn from the wildflowers (Matthew 6:28). In Psalm 23, we’re told that God wishes for us to lie down in green pastures; to be lead beside quiet waters. Job reminds us that God “spreads out the northern skies over empty space; he suspends the earth over nothing. He wraps up the waters in His clouds, yet the clouds do not burst under their weight.” We are reminded that creation itself is meant to teach us- yes, to learn through their actions, not their words, for they need not speak verbal language. “Ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds of the air, and they will tell you; or speak to the earth, and it will teach you, or let the fish of the sea inform you. Which of these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this? In His hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all.” (Job 12:7-10)

So today I will learn from the birds in air, and the shoots developing on trees. I will look at the wildflowers and how they are able to grow, year in, year out. I will remain in awe of you, Lord, and the works of your hands. I will remember your calm, your peace, your authority over all things, even at work this week, where there are days in which I feel as though I hear nothing but sirens, see nothing but trash on the streets, and yet find you in unexpected ways through the smile of a stranger or the excitement of neighborhood kids riding their bikes after school. And be it inner city, forest, behind the desk, or out in the community, I will ponder you, God. I will seek you, God. I will find you and be awed by you as a precarious child of you, God. And I will celebrate you on this ground I dance upon called Earth.

My favorite part of my parents' home is their Magnolia tree in the front yard.

Photo Credit: Scott Otterbein

Just a Bus Driver…

Posted on by

0

3.15.12

What would you say If I told you that I won’t be by today?
Would you say that I’m just a bus driver?
And what do I know
Just a bus driver, and what do I know?
Just a bus driver, and what do I know?
Just a bus driver
Well don’t believe that
We’re all just bus drivers
And it’s time to go home…

I didn’t think anything of it when we had a different bus driver on Tuesday. Or Wednesday. I thought that John was sick, no big deal, he’d be back soon with his friendly “good mornings” and “good nights.” But today I found out that John died of a heart attack.

John was an African American man, in his sixties, with a cheerful African accent. I’ve only been riding the employee shuttle to work since November, when I could no longer bike to work because of evening darkness, but I’ve been riding it since, even now that daylight savings has begun.

John would greet each person who walked aboard that bus. He’d make conversation with us. He’d smile at us and wish us a good day as we left the shuttle to begin our daily 9-5. At 5:15, we’d see him again. He’d announce each street name with a thick African accent. “Cheee-staar” (Chester). “Anyone need Cheee-staar tonight?” It was hard to think about your long day when you heard such an enlivening accent.

After Chester came what began to be known as the “almost there” stop. Some people park in between Chester and the next stop, and if there was a red light, he’d let whoever would like to leave hop off the bus before the next stop. He’d always say funny things like, “anyone want the almost-there today?” or “Today, for you—it’s free.” We’d then turn the corner, I’d hop off and say “Goodnight, John,” to which he’d respond, “goodnight honey.”

One of the ladies who rides the shuttle told me once that she came on the bus with a couple of packages. He made some joke about the packages not being allowed to be brought on board because of policies (which may have had some half-truth to it), “but today, you can come on with them for free!” [The shuttle is always free.]

John seemed like a very simple guy. He didn’t complain. He smiled. He was content with the life God gave him. I wonder how many times my attitude has not been like John’s; peaceful, calm, and friendly.

I need to cry a little bit. I’m going to miss John. It is very hard to accept that life is unpredictable; that one day your bus driver is there and the next day there is someone else… permanently. It makes me sad and challenges me once again to live every day with abundant life, not dwelling on the paltry things of life; to celebrate this life we’ve been given because we have no business in taking it for granted or for complaining about our trivial “problems.”

I will miss you John.

But here’s a little song for you that reminds me of you.

I hope you realize that this song is all about how important each person is in the world. You were important in mine.

Thank you.

Searching, Finding, Getting Lost in all the Things I Can’t Explain…

Posted on by

0

I don’t know what it is that I’m looking so hard for, searching so constantly for, unceasingly, when I have a God who tells me that everything I need is to be found in Him. He tells me where to go; He tells me how to find it: it’s in Him. I know the one big thing I’m searching for is your peace, God, but even that I find directly in you and from you. You allow it to be made visible through your trees, your birds, your mountains, your still waters, but ultimately, it’s YOU, Lord. It’s you my heart wants, even when my head wants explanations to “whys,” and burning bush answers to my paltry prayers. It’s you who my soul was designed for. It is you who created this persistent thirst in my spirit, whose water comes to rescue my dry  mouth with your very own hands.

I don’t know why I fall apart when it would be so much less heartache to fall to my knees.

I don’t know why I think I can protect myself from life’s inevitable heartaches when there you are, telling me how much you love me. That you’re big enough to handle my biggest pains and heaviest weights. I don’t know why I worry about things like money when you’ve taught me how to be responsible and you’ve told me over and over again to enjoy my life. I long to visit cousins in Colorado, to feel a cool misty morning over the backdrop of the Rockies; to camp underneath the stars at the base of the Grand Canyon. But I feel like I shouldn’t spend my money on myself, or think I should save it for this, or be giving to that…

That’s not my voice, you say.
I am not the one holding you back.
I am not the bad guy here.
I want you to enjoy your life, the life that I gave you, forever, whether here on Earth or in Heaven above.

I want to cry; I feel so loved. I want to stop thinking about how it literally sounds crazy that God, an invisible being, can whisper words into my brain, bypassing the hairs you say you can count the number of. It doesn’t make sense. I can’t make sense of it. The more I try, the more I don’t know. The more I go along with it, and allow myself to be brought into wonder and awe and holy mystery and grandeur, the more expansive the world, your world, your kingdom, seems; the more deep your presence, the more I need you to be my answer for everything I can’t explain…

I don’t know why it is that I rush around, run to keep busy, doing tasks, creating to do lists, not sitting down, as if that’s what solves problems or hurts or nagging longings. I don’t know why I settle for these distractions when all you want is to be with me, to be with us, beside us, your child,  your beloved.

Everything you need is to be found in me, you say.

God, I think I’m finding myself in You. And I think I know what you’ve placed on my heart and want with my life. But what if the things I think are you and your will actually aren’t? Just because I think it is doesn’t mean it actually is. You know my heart better than I do. I think I need a blessing, a break, a “Yes” or “No” audible answer, a change of circumstance, a change of scenery, and you think I need a challenge, a chance to grow so that later on I’ll remember how you brought me through the difficulties I’ve faced, reminding me that I’m stronger than I think I am in You.

I know we’re searching, Lord.

Us.
Your creation.
We’re searching. You created us with this need for touch, need for human connection, need for wonder and rest and laughter and love, deep, deep love that is stronger than our own human ability to love.

And so I know this sounds utterly crazy, but tonight I say goodnight to you, like a father, like a mother, like a genuine best friend, like a pervasive and persistent lover. I no longer feel as though you’re far away; in fact, I can feel you right here in my chest. Don’t go. Please stay. I love you…