...and the Word fell out of its leather binding.
The inner pages of my Bible have wrestled free from their constrictive outer shell. I usually attempt to keep them together in order to prevent further mutilation of the curled, gold-edged sheets. The inscription on the inside, printed in neat architect-style handwriting, are words of blessing from Pastor Steve as I graduated high school. It begins thus:
"MY HOPE IS THAT YOU WEAR THESE PAGES RAGGED FINDING THE ANSWERS TO YOUR SOUL SEARCHING QUESTIONS. I PRAY THAT YOU NEVER LOSE THAT ABOUT YOURSELF..."
Confession: I have intentionally abused this Bible. Sometimes I throw it around to speed the fulfillment of Steve's hope for me. I wear his words as some sort of spiritual identity. I want you to look at my Bible and be impressed by how much I love God. I like that it looks well-used. Makes me feel proud.
Is the better way that someone would look at my life and know that I love God? I think we can fake spirituality by adopting the right Christian words or destroying our Bibles. I sometimes even deceive myself in this way. But to know God and be known by Him... this is what I desire for me and encourage for you this week. Can we agree to stop playing games?
God, give us courage to be seen by you...and others...for what we truly are.
Tuesday, November 25
poetry is supposed to be depressing
Sorrow bleeds from blue eyes
glistening radiant beside
stained crimson cheeks.
The mirror reflects
damp desperation, it
streaks the face.
This wide-eyed gaze,
deluge of desire,
devastates my heart.
glistening radiant beside
stained crimson cheeks.
The mirror reflects
damp desperation, it
streaks the face.
This wide-eyed gaze,
deluge of desire,
devastates my heart.
Monday, November 17
vespers
I made tea tonight. I found dried mint leaves in a canning jar hidden within the small cupboard above the stove. I even used a kettle, just to be rustic. I have been desperate for communion, intimacy, fellowship and family, and though the house is quiet again and empty of the warm clamor and chaos of human presence, the tea is comforting and kind in my aloneness.
This is what I appreciate most about today: Charlie's compassionate loan of this computer and a bonding moment watching "The Office" on the floor of his room. Confident words from my dad. His assurance, once again, that everything is actually okay. The fact that God uses me in the midst of brokenness and confusion. That he only needs my willingness, not my pefection, in order to use me to serve others. Prayers on my behalf. A podcast about relationships that inspired me toward selfless, Jesus-style love. My overwhelmed response to this podcast that indicates I may have understood something true about the kind of love I am called to offer. Eritrean coffee and a friend named Luam. So great. A call to set up this week's Italian lesson.
In the midst of so many wonderful things this day has had miserable moments as well. I resist them with all my mental and emotional strength. I hate misery. But unfortunately, my intense frustration does not seem to scare my sadness away. The combination of these two emotions is so heavy that I just wanted to give up.
But here's where I need to let hope penetrate. I want to be a person who has a healthy relationship with my tragic emotions. I want to wave at them as they pass but refuse to allow them to determine my day. I want to be a person who hopes. I wish for my eyes to be fixed on dreams and vision, to make endless lists of the adventures I want to have and the kind of person I am excited to become.
When I was young I dreamed of helping everyone in the world by providing them with housing, recreation, and even letters in the mail so they would feel special ("I'm a special guy!")... and now I feel burnt out, afraid, and helpless. God forbid this is where I stay. In Him, I long to rediscover this passion for others and talk back to voices that tell me I can't, I shouldn't, I won't. I want to live a life of faith, directed by what God says is possible.
Sometimes it gives me confidence to write these things down.
Today, however, my cloudy mood would not glide away. I was most grateful to remember that I can be completely honest with God. There isn't a limit to the number of times I get to moan about the same issues. He is not frustrated when I seem to regress. He can handle my temper tantrums. He even knows what to do with my sin.
My heart feels stronger tonight than it did this morning. I count that as progress and look forward to the same tomorrow. Amen, everyone, and goodnight.
p.s. The podcast about relations is called DISCUSSIONS by Patrick Dodson and the episode is titled "Unconditional Love." You can find it on iTunes.
This is what I appreciate most about today: Charlie's compassionate loan of this computer and a bonding moment watching "The Office" on the floor of his room. Confident words from my dad. His assurance, once again, that everything is actually okay. The fact that God uses me in the midst of brokenness and confusion. That he only needs my willingness, not my pefection, in order to use me to serve others. Prayers on my behalf. A podcast about relationships that inspired me toward selfless, Jesus-style love. My overwhelmed response to this podcast that indicates I may have understood something true about the kind of love I am called to offer. Eritrean coffee and a friend named Luam. So great. A call to set up this week's Italian lesson.
In the midst of so many wonderful things this day has had miserable moments as well. I resist them with all my mental and emotional strength. I hate misery. But unfortunately, my intense frustration does not seem to scare my sadness away. The combination of these two emotions is so heavy that I just wanted to give up.
But here's where I need to let hope penetrate. I want to be a person who has a healthy relationship with my tragic emotions. I want to wave at them as they pass but refuse to allow them to determine my day. I want to be a person who hopes. I wish for my eyes to be fixed on dreams and vision, to make endless lists of the adventures I want to have and the kind of person I am excited to become.
When I was young I dreamed of helping everyone in the world by providing them with housing, recreation, and even letters in the mail so they would feel special ("I'm a special guy!")... and now I feel burnt out, afraid, and helpless. God forbid this is where I stay. In Him, I long to rediscover this passion for others and talk back to voices that tell me I can't, I shouldn't, I won't. I want to live a life of faith, directed by what God says is possible.
Sometimes it gives me confidence to write these things down.
Today, however, my cloudy mood would not glide away. I was most grateful to remember that I can be completely honest with God. There isn't a limit to the number of times I get to moan about the same issues. He is not frustrated when I seem to regress. He can handle my temper tantrums. He even knows what to do with my sin.
My heart feels stronger tonight than it did this morning. I count that as progress and look forward to the same tomorrow. Amen, everyone, and goodnight.
p.s. The podcast about relations is called DISCUSSIONS by Patrick Dodson and the episode is titled "Unconditional Love." You can find it on iTunes.
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