growth

I speak in to the easiness of your last kiss

found wanting as the tide begins to drift

it stills me knowing that someday i’ll see

the beauty of love in certainty

in foundations that blossom into gardens of peace

we find growth in the little things, even the weeds.

and i find myself sitting, pondering your love;

resting amidst the restlessness of infidelity,

teasing out the sprouting filth that weighs on me

and deadens me.

as the flowers stretch up to reach your light

and the ocean is pulled to you each night

so i bow and confess your faithfulness

your glory and peace which help me rest

knowing that in you is life alone

and that by your grace you’ll pull me home.

amen.

Moments of Grace

Moments of grace spilled out in front of my eyes this week and last:

1. A wearisome poet coming home after 10 years of being on tour. In this final show, the aches of being ready to stop and rest reverberated into our hearts. He didn’t deny his restlessness, but let it be, and let us witness the honesty of saying ‘goodnight’ rather than pushing through to doing one more poem.

2. A state trooper steering a frightened mother duck and her three ducklings down a busy interstate onramp.

3. This Song: Middle of June – by Noah Gunderson

4. Being gently and faithfully awoken early each day by God.

5. A beautiful spring night

6. “Put your ear to the sky
and listen my darling,
everything whispers I love you.”

7. A beautiful spring day.

8. Community to share both the good and difficult aspects of life with.

Taking a Stand For Poor Kids -- Geoffry Canada

As some of you know, I work in a high school. More specifically, I work with special education students in traditional classrooms providing extra support for them. Some need more help (focusing mostly) than others - but what I've found to be needed across the board for these students is a belief in themselves. Granted, all high school students need this, but especially those who have fallen behind the rest for one reason or another.

I know what it's like to feel like the stupidest kid in class, moving my finger quickly across pages during silent reading so that no one would see how slowly I really read. Of course, pretending to understand never helped me gain the skills to actually understand; pretending like I could read never helped me learn to read any faster.

One reason that I particularly enjoy working with these students is because I can approach them from a place of relatedness. I see their struggles and know them intimately - and so, I want to free them from the shame that comes with struggling in school - and perhaps give them hope that it does get better. This guy, Geoffrey Canada, has been working to give all under-privileged kids in Harlem an equal opportunity for education, tackling problems by intervening as early as pregnancy, and carrying them straight into college. This guy is on it - so much to learn from him...

Geoffrey Canada: Taking A Stand For Poor Kids

By the way, this is one of those programs that leaves you looking like an idiot because you're sitting in your driveway for 20 minutes after you get home so that you can finish it. Yeah. It's that good.

Free the Creativity!

"People trying to be original always arrive at the same boring old answers. Ask people to give you and original idea and see the chaos it throws them into. If they said the first thing that came into their head, there'd be no problem.

An artist who is inspired is being obvious. He's not making any decisions, he's not weighing up one idea against another... How else could Dostoyevsky have dictated one novel in the morning and one in the afternoon for three weeks in order to fulfill his contracts?"

Keith Johnstone, Impro: Improvisation and the Theater

Social Currency

I have never gone hungry. Not once in my life have I starved for food and not known where the next meal would come from. Not once have I been so poor as to seriously have I truly wanted. And I know without a doubt that if I even risked hunger, I would have more than a handful of people in my life that would not let me come even close to going without food. Or shelter. Or clothing. I live in abundance amidst friends and family who also live in abundance.

I have an education, a bank account, a line of credit, job experience and references, clothes for any social situation. I know social etiquette across a variety or groups and situations. I have lived as much of the American dream as can be expected of a 25 year old female in my culture.

In high school I played varsity sports, got good grades without much effort, had a car, went to every high school dance, got some work experience as a barista, and had great friends. I went to a prominent university where I lived in the dorms and then a house off campus with friends, I played club college soccer for four years, I backpacked through Europe and studied abroad, and I finished in four years successfully while working throughout. I took time off before applying to graduate school, worked hard, made money, indulged in clothes and accessories, moved around the country for a while, learned to cook, and settled back home among my friends, family, and familiar city when the time was right.

I've done it all right. I've had all of the experience that my culture has told me will lead to success, wisdom, and respect. I can sit among the high school students that I work with with confidence in my life experience and diverse knowledge. I've done it all right. A+ performance. My social and cultural pockets are deep and heavy - I have stored up what the world has given me and invested it for more profit.

The problem now comes in my desire to use that social currency; to depend on that in social situations as my security. I am depending on my investments to carry me through. But 'where your treasure is, there your heart is also', says Jesus. And he also tells us, "it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.”

I am the rich young ruler being asked to give up all of my possessions for the sake of following Christ. And here the anxiety sets in. Will I be like St. Francis of Assisi and risk all by setting aside the wisdom of this world, my social status, and financial security? Will you?

The wisdom books of the Bible (Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and Job to name a few) tell us that the wisdom of this world is meaningless without the fear of God. We can learn cultural and social survival until the cows come home, but for what? Perhaps I need to be more diligently focusing my everyday education on how to lift others up with words and actions rather than defending my honor. Or listening more patiently to another's story without trying to interject my own. Or maybe even speaking the truth into a friends life that will cut in some way - but needs to be said for the sake of growth. Any other thoughts?

Lent Day 3: Come As You Are

Sometimes I forget how awesome walking is. I forget that it allows you to be more in touch with your surroundings. The noises of a neighborhood, the rhythm of the people, the details of the buildings. As I walked through Capitol Hill today I noticed a building I've never seen before. It looked like an old Seattle homestead or law building, rich with history and character (as much as Seattle's short history allows), which intrigued me.

The sign on the window read 'Gilda's Club Seattle. Living with cancer? Come as you are'.

Come as you are. Come broken, hurting, sick. Come in the clothes your wearing, in the feelings your feeling. Come imperfect. It's ok.

These are God's words. This is ministry. Come as you are and we will be with you, listen to you, hold you. We will rejoice with you in your rejoicing and cry with you in your mourning. Come as you are.

I think we have an unfortunate tendency to forget that message, particularly in the church. I mean, how incredible would it be if that were the mission of the church? To proclaim boldly day in and day out, 'come as you are'. There are no prerequisites to God's love. No right thing to wear, no right thing to say, no right way to feel.

It saddens me that the church is an intimidating place to so many people. That there is hesitation for fear that they won't fit in - that they will stand out as an awkward outsider. What is striking is that the church, the body of Christ, is meant to be the one place where all fit in. Where all are outsiders welcomed with open arms. This is the place where the divisions of our world are being mended and transformed into peaceful differences. Where we find ourselves under the common authority and love of Christ alone.

So my question today is this: Do you feel comfortable coming to church exactly as you are? Or do you feel that you have to maintain a certain image at church in order to be accepted?

If so, I encourage you to stand out. I encourage you to come just as you are. Because I promise you that doing just this frees others to do the same: to feel comfortable in their skin, in their feelings, in their clothes, in their doubts, in their fears. My hope is that we can begin to embrace the true diversity and beauty of the body of Christ - beginning with ourselves.

Rescue Me

'Adonai'
breathes my spirit

'Rescue me and know my shame'
for I am low and teeming evermore
to know the power of your resurrection.

Find me in my depths,
crying, for I just received my prize.
I found my glory in the
faces of the others,
who held me in contempt of fraud.

'That's not who you are!'
they kept telling me,
pulling me, pushing me
into disaster.


Tender refuge is found in the
plentitude of peace.

In my weakness I am made strong
and turbulence finds a resting place.

No longer does the storm brew-
it serves to only disrupt the
parchments of gladness.
And not even they can bear to rip
me of tenderness and providence.

I know the hearts of youth.
How they seek first love
and then laughter.
I know the ways in which they
strive for more -
for meaning and wantedness.


In the ocean we wait calmly,
knowing that soon
our savior will come.

Amen.

Lent Day 2: Sight

I just came home from my first day of giving up my car for Lent. As I walked through the lawn to my front door, I had a surprising sense of relief. “Now I can go anywhere I want”, I told myself. Now I am in control again. Now I can do whatever I want. But I was reminded that this is the very nature of what it means to sacrifice; that I can’t do anything I want whenever I want.

It was a very clear reminder that I am so accustomed to my lifestyle that I am blind to my unspoken narratives of control, which whisper their way into my everyday reality. In my fasting I am made aware of my typical self-gratification. I am made aware that I unconsciously feed the beast day in and day out whenever it is hungry.

I think fasting is holy because it allows us to see ourselves more clearly. And by seeing ourselves, we are also given eyes to not only see others, but to recognize the blindness of others. Why is this important? Not for reasons of self-righteousness or pride that we have done right while others are still messing up. In fact, it is not even us doing the good in the first place. We do not heal our own blindness – we can’t! Rather, it is Christ healing us from the inside.

So what is our response to our newfound sight? What do we do with our new ability to see the blindness of others? When we can begin to see more clearly the blindness of our brothers and sisters, we must remember that we have so freshly been given sight. That we, just yesterday, were blind among them, pawing out our pathway in hope that we find our way home – or to the market – or to our regular begging place. And from this place of compassion we can walk alongside them, knowing their pain, knowing their frustration, knowing their anxieties and fears.

Christ transforms us into seeing beings. In fact, Christ is the very light by which we are given the ability see. He is the light that exposes the nature of humanity’s sin and the structures of this world in which that sin has found a comfortable home: racism, sexism, slavery, consumerism, piety. These are only a few of the structures that we so blindly have participated in our whole lives, rooted in the basic desire for control. These are the structures that Christ came to not only shed light on, but also to transform. He has given us eyes to see that we may participate with him in this transformation of these destructive patterns of our lives and those around us.

Perhaps, then, we may look at this invitation to participate in this Lenten time of fasting is an invitation to see more clearly. To have eyes to see the brokenness in our own lives and those around us. And to move with a heart full of compassion to those we see in need, to those blindly stumbling because we have been in their shoes. And because we want them to experience the brilliant gift of sight as we have ourselves experienced.

Lent Day 1: Marked for Death

Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. This is the season representing Jesus’ life after his baptism and before his crucifixion. It represents the 40 days in the wilderness in which he fasted and was tempted by the devil.

Many know Lent to be a time of sacrifice – of giving something up or taking something on. Some fast, some give up sweets, some exercise more diligently. Many attend Ash Wednesday services in which they acknowledge the entering of this holy time. Marked with an ashen cross on the forehead while the words, ‘from dust you have come, and to dust you shall return’ mark the ears and hearts of the vulnerable receiver.

I have learned in my studies that gospel of Matthew paints Jesus as a ‘marked man’ from the beginning. From birth his life is being threatened by king Herod. And the threat of death continues until he is raised again.

In this rite, we have also been marked. Marked for death. It is a sign of our mortality, of our limitedness, or our fragility. It is a sign of the threat of death – temptation in all of our days in the ‘wilderness’ - the place throughout scripture representing a land of anxiety, fear, and conflict – a foreign land from which we have been promised deliverance.

We see throughout the Old Testament, that the wilderness is the place where we are most tempted to lose hope. Where we doubt the promise that says ‘I will be your God and you will be my people’. Where we forget God’s presence, providence, and power despite being led by God himself in a cloud during the day and pillar of fire by night, day in and day out; despite being provided miraculous daily bread and gushing springs of water in the desert; despite battles being won without the lifting of a single Israelite finger. Where we doubt God’s grace – somehow – despite the countless times we have done wrong to ourselves, others, and God, and the many more countless times God has forgiven us.

Thus, the scriptures, time and time again, tell us to “REMEMBER”. Remember what I have done for you. Remember my grace. Teach your children and your children’s children. Never forget.

And so we study the scriptures to remember our humanity. To be remember our tendency to sin – against God and each other. And to be reminded of God’s unconditional love and unbounded grace. That we are still here because of God’s mercy. That our creator who breathed life into us, and who has the ability to take that breath away just as easily, bound himself to us, his creatures, whom he loved so well, and emptied himself out to the point of a humiliating death on a cross. All so that we may know his face again, and know what it is to truly have Life.

So what does it mean to be marked this Lent? What does it mean to follow Christ through the wilderness? I think it means to be reminded that to follow Christ means to die to ourselves; to lay our lives down for the sake of our brothers and sisters, putting their needs before our own, considering them better than ourselves (Phil 2:3). That when we are tempted with to figure out our own way of survival, we respond, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’ ” And when we are tempted to test the power of God and save ourselves, we respond, “Again it is written, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’ ” And when we are tempted to worship anything but god in order to glorify ourselves, we respond “Away with you, Satan! for it is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.’ ” (Matt 4:1-11)

As St. Francis of Assisi prayed,

O Divine Master, grant that I may not
so much seek to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

How will your mark burn into your everyday life? How will that mark of death stain your relationships? Will you surrender your pride that others may feel love? Will you give up meals that others may eat? Will you stop shopping that other may be clothed?

Who is my Neighbor? (And what does that say about me?)

RSA Animate – Empathic Civilisation from The RSA on Vimeo.

Jeremy Rifkin delves into how empathy is directly tied to self-hood. And as the ability to communicate has improved throughout human history (from verbal to written to modern technology), we have continued to redraw and redefine the boundaries of identity. From tribal blood ties to religious ties to national identity. Rifkin suggests that with the technology available today, we have an opportunity to extent our empathy/ties to the whole world.

My question is, is technology enough? Granted we have the opportunity to connect with more people than ever before, but is there a deeper issue at the heart of all of this that he is neglecting? Will we, who are by nature ‘soft-wired for empathy’, learn to embrace such an identity?

I don’t think it’s quite that easy. Technology can enable us to extend our empathy and broaden our sense of identity, but in actuality we could really just start next door, face to face. My immediate community is filled with tensions of identity, culture, race, socioeconomic imbalance, and sexuality.

I think Rifkin has incredible ideas and has seamlessly integrated about 400 years of research into a ten-and-a-half minute speech - not easy. But I also think it’s easy to get into the ideals of world change before facing the reality that is literally outside our front door. (Note: Rifkin does begin to touch on this at the very end - that repression of empathy by parents, government, educational system, etc. leads to aggression, narcissism, materialism, and greed)

I’m challenging myself to start opening my eyes more to whats right in front of my face. To wrestle with what it means to be human. I’m challenging myself to more intentionally step into the tensions I face (or rather that face me) intellectually, emotionally, spiritually, and theologically. To start putting words - giving names - to these tensions. Because

“To name something is to be somehow transcendent to it, not fully imprisoned by it, free of it in some way, even if, like Stalin, it has you under its yoke. To name something properly can be prophetic, a defiant act, an act of freedom. Indeed that is what prophets do. They don’t foretell the future, they name the present properly - often times in a way that exposes its faithlessness and injustice.” (Ronald Rolheiser)

(Blog post transferred from my other blog)

Beautiful

In the mystery of breath
we find life.
And I am turned
one cell to the next
into another being;
An entirely new structure
which, somehow,
looks miraculously the same.

Yet when such an image
stares itself too long in the mirror
new blemishes appear-
new finite wrinkles
that tell of
a distant past;
That tell of nothing
but the present.

When we glimpse at ourselves -
that is, when we have the blessing
to glimpse at our image
with new eyes
-
we begin to realize how
foolish we have been to count
ourselves as 'plain'
and are freed
from the vain attempts to
turn aside our vanity.

Instead
we catch
out the corner of our eye
Beauty.

Tell yourself that story.
Tell yourself daily.
And continue to hold on dearly
to that image,
seared so vividly and delicately in
your brain

When you first called
yourself, "beautiful".

Rat Race

Effort fails as the rate race
lingers on into the struggle
for freedom, for glory,
for the torrent gaze of immanence.

I fit the patters of which they speak
Torn by the wrecking ball of
destruction, climbing the
steeple steps for respite.

'Maybe they will not find me here,'
I whisper to myself with
a quivering, half-hearted reassurance.

But the other half of my heart
screams in voiceless desperation
to hold onto faith
for the belief that it does get
better than this - and that it WILL.

This other half of my heart
rips apart the half-filled glass,
shards of glass flying,
so that my face- nay, my head -
can plunge fully into the
solace of life-giving water.

It pants for such stillness,
for such escape.

The Power of Vulnerablility

"This is what I have found: to let ourselves be seen. Deeply seen; vulnerably seen. To love with our whole hearts, even though there’s no guarantee. To practice gratitude and joy in those moments of terror, when we’re wondering ‘Can I love you this much? Can I believe in this this passionately? Can I be this fierce about this?’ Just to be able to stop and instead of catastrophizing what might happen, just to say, “I’m just so grateful, because to feel this vulnerable means I’m alive”?

And the last, which is probably the most important, is to believe that we’re enough. Because when we work from a place that says, “I’m enough”, then we stop screaming and start listening. We’re kinder and gentler to the people around us, and we’re kinder and gentler to ourselves."

-Bréne Brown

http://www.ted.com/talks/view/id/1042