the metanoia

For what it's worth

2012-01-06T22:01:00.001-08:00

a rag doll, dropped and forgotten, under a rusted fender on an oil stained driveway
one muddy tire track decorated her back from right to left

“There you are,” the little monster said and grabbed the doll’s leg
“Hiding in plain sight I see,” as IT dragged the her behind it’s strides

the doll, face down, rubbed roughly against the concrete sidewalk
her dress above her head, her white underwear stained by a muddy puddle splash

“Gross, look at your underwear!” IT chided.
“You are never clean,” shaking ITs head in mock sadness

no one saw when a button eye, threads finally giving way,as it rolled to the grass
the doll’s one eye watched as her other slowly faded from sight

“Can’t you see what you have done to yourself?”
“Don’t you know how ugly you are? Gross!”

IT crossed a road, tangling the doll’s head with cigarette butts, bits of litter and sticky chewed gum
“I wish you would take better care of your hair,” flicking a glance of distaste in the her direction

IT cut across a lawn where the big dog lived and dragged her though a fresh pile
When IT climbed the chain link fence, the doll’s an arm caught at the top

“Hurry up, we are late!” yelled IT, tugging her leg roughly.
The doll’s arm ripped at the seam and dropped to the big dog’s lawn, a new chew toy for later

“Now look what you’ve done, well, it’s your own fault for flailing your arms that way.”
IT kept moving, grinding grass and mud into her tattered clothes as her stuffing guts trailed behind.

The monster stopped and looked at the beaten rag doll
With one motion, shot a great arc, deposited it in the dumpster

“Two points!” IT cheered and walked on, “See, loser, you really don’t care about yourself, freak”
The rag doll looked up at a cloud passing, as it waited on top of plastic bags of rotten food

wondering what stink would bury her soon
to cover her shame

reconsidered

2011-12-19T20:47:00.000-08:00

awash in thoughts that stick like honey to my skin
oozing into my eyes and mouth,
the taste bitter and certain

treading in the open lake,
no salt to buoy me,
arms waiving back and forth farewell in the dark night water

i look at the moon, full and hopeful with tired eyes
aching body, panting breath
pounding, saturated mind

below is an endless deep chasm lake
carved in ancient times and filled to the brim
glacier run-off ready to swallow dead lake creatures, lures and anchors

waiting for me to cramp and sink to its ink depths of oblivion.

“why swim? you’ll never make it to shore,” IT says
“your arms are lead, you’ve been treading too long
“even floating is an effort. it’s over, just stop and come with me.”

i turn on my side to try moving away,
feeling its silken fins brush my legs and arms with fatigue.
scissor kicking, I cut at IT, to glide back, tracing my path to shore

each stroke accompanied by images of
mutual laughter around a dinner table
holding hands, arms swinging while walking in the woods
laying in a field, looking up at the sky, warm breeze on my cheeks and nose

IT whispers about tears
about betrayal and indifference
about arguments, unreached goals and failures

thankful the water in my ears muffles
the snide, jeering remarks and finger pointing.
My hand finally touches bottom and I stand up.

walking slowly through the molasses depths
from hip to thigh to calf to ankle
the rest of the way to the shore.

unwanted

2011-12-03T17:51:00.000-08:00

the blowing dirt sticking to hot, sweaty skin
and brown and black burrs clinging to socks

a finger and nail sliced while peeling an onion
and a tiny gray mouse scurrying among pantry boxes

a hangnail catching on paper and pockets, now bleeding
and tangled, knotted hair, a ball of defiance, which must be cut out

the shock of a stinging jellyfish on an idyllic white sand beach
a bee sting, leaving innards on a lance, piercing skin

the rancid taste of sour milk in Lucky Charms
and a red-hot, swollen spider bite

the squish of dog shit between toes in the summer grass
and a belly-up fish floating in a tank of algae haze

Small bits of food cemented to otherwise clean silverware
and frozen skin patches under a ski mask

Heavy layers of ice, amputating already weeping tree limbs
and a gorging mosquito slapped to a blood mark

sunburn blisters on tight fiery skin
and rotting chicken bone garbage perfume

This is who I am

cold-blooded

2011-11-18T13:18:00.000-08:00

there is a stillness in my bones
hands under my arms for warmth
i try not to move
to think...breathe
perhaps you will not notice me

curled up
in a small place
waiting, knowing you are there, basking lazily in the sunlight
just a few seconds of relief from thoughts
just a few seconds . . .

no matter
if i move or stay still
if i hold my breath or close my eyes
no matter

you're there, wrapping your enormous body around mine
an entangled dance
squeezing other thoughts out
strangling emotions
whispering breathy words in my ears
talking conversationally about familiar failures
locking eyes with me in mock sympathy, "you poor, poor Thing"

words creep from your lips
sounds i cannot ignore
it milks my agony inside
and strikes with venomous bites, piercing skin

slithering between thoughts of joy
coiling around hints of a smile
devouring whole a skittering hope
charming others through my eyes

bathe and dress
work and cook
participate and talk
drive and walk

cry and rant alone
i keep my distance
at It's insistence,
snake puppet

rooted

2011-09-29T14:47:00.000-07:00

every day
i exercise
i eat in a fairly good way
i do what needs to be done
i drive to work or work at home
i try to pray
i try to write to talk to live

every morning
i take those two capsules
hoping
wishing
wanting
waiting

nothing

still the monster digs in deeper into my soul
it wraps tendrils between my toes to trip up laughter and smiles
it forces stems into my chest, budding up flowers of heartache, the blossoms as blood-red as my cuts
it slithers vines up my spine to coil despair tightly around my throat
it gorges on sorrow to sprout new leaves of misery
it drinks in tears to thicken its branches with rage
it splices on words of defeat
it cultivates self hate and fertilizes with self doubt

every night it taunts me
mocking
chiding
jeering
ridiculing

growing stronger as it feeds

where did you go

2011-09-23T01:00:00.000-07:00

did you dissipate in the raging prairie winds, caught in the tall rustling grasses?
did you leap from a hanging outcrop, out of sight and out of mind to a rocky shore below?
did you slowly saunter down an open desert road, no car in sight with only insect songs and coyote yips to keep you company?
did you dig a hole of despair and burrow into its depression, covered up again with the worms melting back into the earth?

where did you go?

perhaps you climbed a mountain of indifference to slide down a stagnant glacier, creeping to the sea.
perhaps you still run around an endless desolate track, legs trembling, lungs screaming.
perhaps you sit in a corner of a busy room watching others come and go, unnoticed.
perhaps you crouched in the sagebrush, waiting for someone to find you, then finally, gave up and left to go anywhere else.

where did you go?

sometimes i see you peeking from a shattered window in an abandoned, barn, its paint peeling, rafters caving, in an empty field.
sometimes i glimpse you among the trash heap of life, threading through discarded things, stench of rot and forgotten wants.
sometimes i feel you skitter across the keyboard, leaving traces of what was and never will be again.
sometimes, out of the corner of my eye, you linger, only to fade into cold reality when a turn my attention to you.

where did you go?

i feel a chasm where you were once, dark, deep, endless.
i grieve daily, no remnants or traces of hope curling behind you like ribbons in your wake
i know you ran from me. i know you hide. i have no idea where to look anymore.
i think about you, i go through motions, breathing, doing what needs to be done, taking care not to rock any crafts afloat around my small splash and sink to the ocean floor.

where did you go Eros, Philos and Agape?
where did you go, love?

configured

2011-05-03T14:43:00.000-07:00

a humming buzz, global solitude among twittering
drowning out all matter of witty or mundane internet musings
muffled nothingness, routed declarations of
unconnected rhetoric
tapping keys of personality, crafting images and feelings

aphids, cooties, moths, all matter of vermin descend
electrified kin severed by server interrupts
backbone broken and crippled
communal vacant lots of disconnectedness
the razor edge of exile
waiting for repair, restore, reboot proxy selves
the wired, wireless connection then
rinsed, repeated

a wasteland

2011-04-14T10:43:00.000-07:00

in a snowy lot
a candy bar wrapper rustles among broken weeds
cigarette butts elbow each other among rocks
gray melting ice cracks softly
water trickles onto a disintegrating sidewalk

my two hands cup
making an empty shadow bowl
raw spring wind brushes the top of my thumbs

nearby a car alarm wails
a lone dog barks in response
a dirtied icicle falls from a nearby roof
bursting into countless shards

i let my hands fall to my sides
empty

de served

2011-01-14T14:00:00.000-08:00

de served

ice clinks and water is poured
clear liquid cools parched mouths
as i hand out drinks

i reach for another glass for myself
the cupboard yields one with lime deposits
the next has food dried in the bottom
my fingernail bends as i try to scrape it out
this one has smudges and lipstick marks

ahhh a clean one
i pour ice and water into it
only to find thick gray and white sediment
swirling in a tornado spiral

others drink
i watch, glancing at row of dirty vessels
thirsty

New Poem: Littered.

2011-01-14T13:26:00.000-08:00

Littered

Steamrolled paper thin
gravel biting my back

a gust of wind blows me with the dried leaf herd
scratching morse code on the asphalt

wedged in an underpass nook
destined for dirty roadway snow piles
to decompose in spring run-off

migration

2008-10-26T19:52:00.000-07:00

In early September, the weather cooled. I took the back roads to work one morning with the car windows cracked open, enjoying the fresh morning air. I tend to have blinders on when I drive, just ask those who wave and honk. I rarely see past the traffic before me. But that day, the chatter of birds broke through me reverie as I waited for the light to change. Hundreds of dark colored birds lined the telephone lines, perched on top of streetlights and business signs. A chorus of sound which drowned out all but the loudest traffic.

Several times in the next few weeks, I took the back roads to and from work. Often I would see a sparrows, grackles, geese or other flock of birds traveling southward to warmer climates, their fluid, amoebic groups in the sunny skies, moving---shifting---dancing an aviary ballet of sorts as they continued on their journey.

Lately, on the Palladia channel I’ve seen the coolest commercial. A flock of animated black birds in flight which then morph into details of birch trees and then the perspective shifts yet again into a forest birches and other trees as the ‘camera’ pulls back. It’s a commercial that stops me in my tracks, transfixing me through completion of the animation. The change in perspective, the change in subject is fascinating.

The images and activities of my aviary friends continued.

A lone hawk sitting atop a fence post, scanning the fields, hunting for dinner as the sun dims on the horizon during my commute home.

A small flock of birds, one early morning, startled into flight from our pear tree in the front yard as I took out the dogs for their ‘constitutional’. The dogs stood, transfixed by the rising mass of birds and muffled sounds of wing flaps. We all watched them rise into the air and depart before moving on to other business.

Birds dotting the lines between telephone posts along the road like Morse Code. I wondered what the words said. SOS?

Empty bird feeders swinging on tree limbs in our windy backyard. No birds in sight. For if the food gone, so are the birds, hunger drives them to look elsewhere.

Birds migrate in cycles including those made in response to changes in food availability, habitat or weather. Habitat and weather changes are usually irregular or in only one direction. Migration is marked by its annual seasonality. In contrast, birds that are non-migratory are known as resident birds. Migrating birds vary migration travels, some short, some long as they move through this cycle. Some lose their way, most regain direction through the magnetic pull of their migrating pattern.

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It’s been a very long time since I’ve blogged in any sort of thoughtful manner. Part of it was time available to write. A new job and shifts in family life have kept my schedule rather packed, but this has not been the entire reason. I wouldn’t call my current spiritual state ‘a crises,’ but I must admit it has not been peaceful, steady, or void of some serious drama and frustration. For several months, I’ve noticed a steady decline in spiritual direction and desire to pursue it . . .fire dimmed a bit, you might say. I in no way believe following Christ is all ups and blessings. That line of thought has gotten many of us in a state of entitlement within Christianity that has dangerous pathways of disappointment and defeat. I do believe that a spiritual growth ebbs and flows as does the pattern of its pursuit.

I’ve noticed that within a discipleship journey I tend to close off conversation with God when I am under the most duress, thinking I can control my emotion, the situation or some aspect until it is ‘resolved’ to my satisfaction. My instinct is to look to my own ability to interpret and understand why. The worse it gets the more of a control freak I become, the less I turn to God for understanding and guidance. Yeah, counter intuitive, I know.

Do you listen in on God's council?
Do you limit wisdom to yourself? Job 15:8

It is very easy these days to preoccupy myself with other things. Lately, I’ve found myself driving to soccer or work or the grocery store, listening to books or music. I’ve played single parent for more weeks that I care to admit due to some shifts in Wayne’s job responsibilities. I’ve used online communities, movies, TV--any entertainment at my fingertips, to distract myself often from deep thought as I bounce from place to place, from event or obligation to home and work.

Conversation with God dwindled to almost nothing. Even those conversations seemed one-sided monologues, prayers for others done out of duty and habit. I was talking to God less and less. More importantly, I was not listening either.

Show me your ways, O LORD, teach me your paths; guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long. Remember, O LORD, your great mercy and love, for they are from of old. Psalm 25:4-6

But for the past two months, I’ve been subject to these bird whispers, these subtle words of God breaking through the din of everyday life and my insulated turtle shell. Through the amoebic movement of a migrating flock---through the chatter of that flock as I stop for a train. I knew it was God, but I had no gumption to listen. No inclination to ponder why I was seeing all these bird signs of migration, of community, of loners, of transitions. I sat in my misery wondering about everything. As we all know, blind birds don’t really go very far.

My best thinking, you see, is when I write. Focusing on the blank page, talking out my ideas is where revelation comes. So when the chatter of birds drown out the din of my distractions, I sat down to write this. With the tenacity that only God can employ, I now understand the message delivered in the wings of birds, in sky silhouettes traveling to places far away, in the groups and flocks migrating through the cycles of the season.

It’s okay, Deana, I’m here. Time to move on.

The Empire and the Pulpit

2008-09-08T14:34:00.001-07:00

I read this today in Sojourner’s Updates:

Politics and pulpit.“Declaring that clergy have a constitutional right to endorse political candidates from their pulpits, the socially conservative Alliance Defense Fund is recruiting several dozen pastors to do just that on Sept. 28, in defiance of Internal Revenue Service rules.”

This is interesting since I’ve recently finished Jesus for President (Claiborne), and yet even more spooky if you consider a book I’m reading right now… Jesus Wants to Save Christians: A Manifesto for the Church in Exile. In an excerpt today from that book, Golden and Bell talked about the church’s involvement with government and the dangers that shows throughout Biblical times which yields a cycle of greed ($ and power) and the exploitation of others in the process..

“Danger, Will Robinson!” Beware of the ‘rights’ of this sort of action. I am not in favor of endorsements from the pulpit. It smells of Rome’s religion of government for the people as might makes peace. The systemic glorification of a ‘religious government’ has never gotten us where God wants us to be.

Endorsement in the pulpit? Perhaps a mere step in the overall corruption for the sake of religion. I for one do not see endorsement of a candidate as a good thing…as a ‘right’? We as the body of Christ are meant to be the counter narrative to mainstream society. By endorsing a candidate, we are no different than a polical party, a corporation, a special interest group.

We should be less interested in endorsing a candidate or one or two hot button issues. We should be more interested in making sure oppression does not exist in any form. Oppression that starts with our own consumerism, narcissism, and ignorance of the world. For me it is much more important to learn about where oppression exists, to do something to help and to tell others.

Like here:

http://www.firstgiving.com/waterforall

A wolf, a Charlotte and Mrs. T

2008-08-21T21:04:00.000-07:00

"If you think of this world as a place intended simply for our happiness, you find it quite intolerable: think of it as a place of training and correction and it's not so bad" --C. S. Lewis

Some of you may already know my knack for discovering spiders in our basement around this time of year as I blogged about it last Fall. (check it out here ) Yes, October is approaching, usually the month when I see the most arachnids in our basement laundry room, yet I’ve already had several spider encounters recently. Let me share.

Imagine my duress to stumble on a rather large wolf spider sauntering through the bedroom door in the early morning light in August. Mind you, this spider had to make it up two sets of stairs and three cats to make it this far. Why this room? There are others before it in the hall after all. Yet here it stood in 8 sturdy legs. Seriously, do I have spider magnet or something? You would think that I would at lead get SOME sort of spidey power for the bites I’ve received in my life. Nope. Nada. No web spinning or swinging from buildings. But I digress. Several pounding objects later including a journal, book and shoe, plus a few exclamations of distain from me, the now flattened adventurous Wolf Spider Columbus was on his way to the new world via a toilet flush in a Kleenex boat. Each instance like this draws me closer to spraying for bugs around the house. I’ve not given in yet, though.

For the second time in my life, “Charlotte” has now appeared outside our front door, spinning a nightly web. She creates her web art between the porch light and rail, neatly tidying up in the morning. My mother and I named a similar spider that who spun webs in the small rectangular window next to our front door one summer many years ago. It was fascinating watching through glass as it spun a web each night, caught meals, ate, then took down the web each morning. I learned a lot about Charlottes that summer and their practices, feeling safe inside as I observed. That Charlotte met an early demise as it poorly chose to scurry across the path of my spider-hating brother one day as he came in the front door. No more Charlotte. This new Charlotte smartly scurries up into the light fixture when we open the door, but more than once I’ve almost backed into the web as I took the dogs, Charlotte deep in ‘web management”, still in the center, waiting for a “Delicious Dish”. I’ve kept with my policy of outdoors ‘ok’ indoors ‘dead’ and it lives on. That is, unless Charlotte finds her way on me. Then all policies are null and void.

Now a new and much larger “Charlotte” has entered into my life. You see, my daughter’s 4th grade teacher has a spider for a PET in the classroom. GAH! This is not ordinary garden variety spider, but and biggest tarantula I’ve ever seen. In fact, the teacher noted, “She molted this summer and is much bigger now.” Holy cow people, the BODY of that arachnid was as big as a man’s palm. I know this because one of the fathers during school open house held it. Shivers ran down my spine as I approached the room and saw hefty ‘Charlotte’ in the doorway area on the teacher’s arm. No, Charlotte is not an appropriate name for that brutish mass of hair and goo. It is by no means as delicate and articulate as the E.B. White’s Charlotte conversing with Wilber and crating fantastic advertising web. It is big, brutish, hairy, by its mere size it reeks of attitude. Therefore, I call it Mrs. T. So there I stood, wondering--should I stay outside or try skirt the whole scene to get into the room? Even Kayla seemed a bit timid to enter the room to check out her new desk and class.

One thing I’ve learned as a past teacher and now parent is my daughter, and other children for that matter, observe and imitate grownups quite often, especially in cases of fear. When teaching after school programs in Mililani, HI, decades ago, I knew if I overreacted to something such as a banana spider or centipede in the classroom, I was guaranteed a rounding chorus of the same type of scream and reaction from 25 Kindergarteners. With that in mind, I approached “Mrs. T” without comment and listened to what the teacher. “You can pet her.” “Pet her very gently on her body here” “If these antennae come up, she is agitated, so stop” On and on she went, instructing timid students and grownups how to touch her gargantuan friend.

“So what your telling me is that I’m all tied up inside...baby steps untie your knots” “Baby steps. Baby steps.” Bob Wiley in What about Bob

Finally I bucked up and pet the blasted thing exactly three passes over Mrs. T’s abdomen. I did this in part to show Kayla it was okay (she did not pet Charlotte that night, she informed me the next week that she pet the spider, too, in class). I also did it to overcome this fear of spiders. And I have to admit also that part of it was to be able to say, “I’ve pet a tarantula and it wasn’t so bad.” Now the deed is done, the baby step taken towards a more reasonable view and treatment of spiders.

Some could say spiritual journeys of discipleship are similar to my tarantula experience. Constant growth through learning, trusting, sticking out our necks to change our opinion, our direction, not matter how small the step is progress.

I think that many of us, when Christ has enabled us to overcome 1 or 2 sins that were an obvious nuisance, are inclined to feel..that now we are good enough. He has done all we wanted Him to do and we should be obliged if He would now leave us alone." --C. S. Lewis

Often I think our American dream of big, fast, quick, successful does a lot to damage those seeking God and Christ. We are taught to believe success likes in the large, visible changes in character to show success. These are most often noted and celebrated such as a baptism, a ‘conversion’ “public confession” or ‘confirmation”. These are very important, but not where most the real work of spiritual growth is done. We can say, we’ve taken major steps with these celebrations, yet God is constantly reaching to us from the next thing or place we need to be, pulling us forward through our daily lives, not allowing us to get to comfortable with our past resumes.

It’s that small decision on how to react or change, the seemingly inane choices we make that make a differences. “Should I get down on that person? Should I be mad or forgive and let it pass? Should I be generous? Should I acknowledge that person and let them into my lane of traffic? Should I spend my time leisurely at movies or on the computer or should I find a way to help for others? Should I hoard my money or find places where it is need more than my bank account?” Indeed, changes in spiritual character often come in the trenches. It involves taking risks and leaving the safety of what we know ‘works for us”, those often stagnant places of comfort. God’s pull on our lives to grow in discipleship is loving, constant and absolutely relentless. Yes, there are back steps, but overall, spiritual growth spring boards off this momentum, often performed with trepidation, uncertainty, and a bit of fear of the unknown, reaching out for the hand than leads us onward.

"Good and evil both increase at compound interest. That is why the little decisions you and I make everyday are of such infinite importance." --C. S. Lewis

As for my spider encounters? Well, there are conferences in October in my daughter’s classroom, so I imagine, small steps will occur as I again visit the tarantula’s lair.

“Baby step to four o'clock. Baby step to four o'clock,” Bob Wiley in What About Bob.

living an imbalanced life. . .on purpose

2008-08-01T23:43:00.000-07:00

My fellow conspirator and blogger, One Ordinary Radical, talked about yin yang and balance in work and play on his blog a awhile ago. I answered a little, but then when looking for more on this topic and now I have blogged on yin yang.

The yin yang symbol has been adopted in western world in hippie and retro hippie culture. The image lingers today on temporary tattoos and surfboards. They show up on swimwear and guitars, doo rags and key chains. The ancient symbol of balance has been bastardized by free world consumeristic expression, as are many sacred symbols (case and point, are rhinestone crosses really the best expression of torturous crucifixion? probably not.) As often is when we make a dollar or a million on marketing Jesus or yin yang, often concepts surrounding these symbols become diluted and watered down. American markets are masters at manipulating concepts and practices into molds of our liking, often in the name of ‘free expression’ or freedom. But I digress.

A Yin Yang definition states:

"The yin yang is the easily recognized Taoist symbol of the interplay of forces in the universe. In Chinese philosophy, yin and yang represent the two primal cosmic forces in the universe. Yin (moon) is the receptive, passive, cold female force. Yang (sun) is masculine- force, movement, heat.

The Yin Yang symbol represents the idealized harmony of these forces; equilibrium in the universe. In ancient Taoist texts, white and black represent enlightenment and ignorance, respectively."

Yet in the black and white symbol of the ying yang are dangerous suppositions when associated to Christian life-balance.

Controlling Balance
As followers of Christ, Sabbath is part of the Judeo-Christian backdrop of our lives. Yes, according to the Bible, a time of rest should occur at regular intervals. Yes, Jesus practiced Sabbath, but Jesus also broke it often to help those in need. What does that say bout balancing work and play in our lives? Better yet, what are we categorizing as work vs. play? Where does service fit into that picture? In the Bible, there are debates in Jewish practices for what is considered work. Even today, centuries later, some groups of Jews thing work is turning on a light or walking anywhere.

I believe One Ordinary Radical's intent was work and play in the overall sense. I propose there is more to work than a job and there is more to rest or play than the ceasing of working at a job. In fact we are encouraged throughout the Bible to serve others countless times more than resting. In this instance the yin yang would not be an even balance of rest and play. You only have to look at Jesus’ life to see the imbalance of recreation time to working to bring heaven on earth.

Jesus’ view of heaven on earth is not Disney or Magic Mountain, white water rafting and watching movies or eating at an excellent restaurant. Heaven on earth feeds the hungry, gives a drink the to thirsty, clothes the naked, provides shelter and dignity for all. Truly, the needs of the poor and oppressed are simpler than vacations or nights out on the town. It comes right down to water, food, shelter and freedom from slavery/oppression and war. For that reason, I am for imbalance in my own life as I strive to be a part of God’s vision. In that vision I see less play and more work for the Kingdom here on earth that needs to be done for my fellow brothers and sisters at the most basic levels of quality of life.

God vs. Human
The Bible says it clearly from the start in the ‘wrongly controversial’ creation stories. (We should rely less on the literal story of creation and more on the POINT of them.) We see it in the Tower of Babel and throughout Kings and prophets. God is God and humans are not. As followers of Christ, we walk in the manner and life of Jesus, We aspire to become more Christ-like, to be ‘little Christs,” but in the end, we do not literally become another Jesus the Christ. Jesus was God and human. We will always still be human. For that basic reason, I trust my own judgment in life balance less than what God wants for me.

The scripture I’ve been chewing on for a couple of months is Micah 6:8 which says, “Seek justice, love mercy, walk humbly with your God.” Not a whole lot of resting in that statement. Some may argue that walking humbly means we are saying we are human by following Sabbath time and resting, learning that we are not god-like in our capacity. Even so, that is one third of the Micah scripture. Not equal in balance by any means. According to this scripture, clearly 2/3 of the time we are to be faithfully living out God’s vision of kingdom life in mercy and justice.

In the end, the yin yang of God vs. us should always favor the former and not the latter. Here the key in not the balance of listening to God and ourselves equally, but to solely listen to and depend on God for guidance. God’s relationship to us is not an equal balance on any level. God’s guidance that often ask us to work more than play, do more than we think we can, push us way past our own perceived limits to trust, do and follow the will of God much more than our own will.

I must live the imbalance of discipleship and what God wants in the world over my understanding of work/play (life) balance in my own personal space. For that reason, the yin yang doesn’t work well for me.

Just a few current imbalances we need to work and pray ceaselessly to make right.

* The average teenager spends $101 a week.
-- $101 would educate 2 African children for an entire year
* One dollar buys a soda or a bottle of water in the US.
-- One dollar gives person clean water for a year.
* Nearly three billion people world-wide live on less than $2 a day.
* Est. time reading this blog, 5 minutes. Number of people who have died during that time for lack of clean drinking water (1 every 15 seconds) = 20

Consider the global priorities in spending in 1998
Global Priority $U.S. Billions

Cosmetics in the United States 8
Ice cream in Europe 11
Perfumes in Europe and the United States 12
Pet foods in Europe and the United States 17
Business entertainment in Japan 35
Cigarettes in Europe 50
Alcoholic drinks in Europe 105
Narcotics drugs in the world 400
Military spending in the world 780

And compare that to what was estimated as additional costs to achieve universal access to basic social services in all developing countries:

Global Priority $U.S. Billions
Basic education for all 6
Water and sanitation for all 9
Reproductive health for all women 12
Basic health and nutrition 13

http://www.globalissues.org/TradeRelated/Facts.asp

global community, global kin. . . one voice united

2008-07-16T12:13:00.000-07:00

“The lack of a caring community that incarnates the Word makes us more and more incapable of being heard.”
- Melba Maggay
Filipino theologian

There is strength in numbers. The louder the protest about injustice, the more likely it will be heard. The louder the protest about issues of mercy . . .the more people who care others through actions, thoughts and words, the more likely others will take notice.

Save Darfur: Al-Bashir Genocide, War Crimes Charges Underscore Need for Security Council ActionFowler: ‘The world at-large, primarily the Security Council, has allowed al-Bashir to continue his reign of destruction, recalcitrance and violence with utter impunity. Moreno-Ocampo has…Read more

We need to keep up this momentum and push this issue to the forefront of politics and global communities.

What do you know abut Darfur? What are you doing about it?

The most powerful tool in your arsenal is your voice. Tell others. Encourage them to add their voice to the community of those who vehemently oppose the genocide in Darfur. Pray to God, let God hear your cries for those with no voices.

Love Christ. Be Christ’s hands, feet, and voice and love your neighbors on earth (regardless of location). Raise your voice high. Stop this insanity.

(Care + Community) + (Notice + Action)= Resolution & Justice

Here are some places to get involved NOW. Today. The next place you click.

Save Darfur: http://www.savedarfur.org/content
Genocide Intervention Network: www.genocideintervention.net
Waging Peace: www.wagingpeace.info
International Crisis Group – Darfur: www.genocideintervention.net
STAND: Student Anti-Genocide Coalition:www.standnow.org

The body is a unit, though it is made up of many parts; and though all its parts are many, they form one body. So it is with Christ. 1 Corinthians 12:12

Why are you still here? What are you waiting for?

Time to get up to speed

Buechner and the great temptation of anger

2008-07-11T20:33:00.001-07:00

Of the Seven Deadly Sins, anger is possibly the most fun. To lick your wounds, to smack your lips over grievances long past, to roll over your tongue the prospect of bitter confrontations still to come, to savor to the last toothsome morsel both the pain you are given and the pain you are giving back—in many ways it is a feast fit for a king. The chief drawback is that what you are wolfing down is yourself. The skeleton at the feast is you. --Frederick Buechner, Wishful Thinking

Buechner’s description is full of imagery and gives a certain personality to this emotion. Anger is one of my greatest temptations. It is very easy for me to automatically slide into this state of mind. Anger is a familiar friend, predictable, comfortable companion. I used to like being angry.

I’ve realized that a self gratifying anger is not a state of mind I should be cultivating. It’s a terrible waste of energy and it does great damage to my state of mind and relationships with others. Harbored, it becomes the worst self-righteous bitterness that consumes me and my thoughts. I can’t give grace to others in that state of mind and I certainly can’t receive it. And for that fact alone, it distances my relationship to God as it sucks me into the vortex of self cannibalism. I not longer like anger like I used to.

Refraining from acting in anger is a requires vigilant effort and constant reliance on God. Vengeance is God’s, not mine. A lesson I continue to learn and practice.

It is a cardinal principle of discernment that the Lord always speaks in peace, even if he is rebuking or chastising those he loves. - Thomas H. Green

Owe no one anything, except to love one another; for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. The commandments, "You shall not commit adultery; You shall not murder; You shall not steal; You shall not covet"; and any other commandment, are summed up in this word, "Love your neighbor as yourself." Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law. - Romans 12:8-10

How do you handle anger?

social justice and the gospel

2008-07-08T19:40:00.001-07:00

“It is not a matter of engaging in both the gospel and social action, as if Christian social action was something separate from the gospel itself. The gospel has to be demonstrated in word and deed. Biblically, the gospel includes the totality of all that is good news from God for all that is bad news in human life—in every sphere. So like Jesus, authentic Christian mission has included good news for the poor, compassion for the sick and suffering justice for the oppressed, liberation for the enslaved. The gospel of the Servant of God in the power of the Spirit of God addresses every area of human need and every area that has been broken and twisted by sin and evil. And the heart of the gospel, in all of these areas, is the cross of Christ.” - Christopher J. H. Wright

It is better to just look at what God wants, not what we can fit into our personal views, schedules and segmented groups of how to ‘deal with’ the poor and oppressed. The gospel and social action are not separated and should not be in matters of injustice and mercy. Jesus cared for the poor and the rich and even the overly ‘religious’ or ‘pious’. Each needed different healing. Each were a deeply embedded part of his ministry. We must follow Jesus’ example and let it permeate our lives…service, healing and sacrifice…in words AND in deeds.

the vocabulary of hate

2008-07-07T19:40:00.000-07:00

''The first thing we have to do is change hearts,'' Betancourt told McClatchy in an exclusive interview. ``We have to change the vocabulary of hate. When I dreamed of being free, I told myself that I could not engage in hate or rancor.''

''It's a neurotic world, and there are lots of conflicts,'' she said. ``There's a food crisis and an energy crisis. People are very anxious about this. We need to reflect on how we behave.''

''The guerrillas are our enemy,'' Betancourt said in the interview. ``But we shouldn't insult them. We should show them how to seek a dignified exit through peaceful negotiations. If we don't defeat them correctly, we will sow the seeds of hate for the future.''

- Ingrid Betancourt Pulecio

_____________________________

The short-term exacting of righteous, perhaps even justifiable vengeance does not seem to be in Betancourt's vocaulary. Hostage of FARC for over 2K days, she does not resort to 'justice,' in the sense of our version of justice. The justice of tried in court and punished. True to her polictal leanings, Ingrid shows a Christ-like view of reconciliation for the better good of all in her country.

Do we in America do the same? We are under the impression that might makes right. Perhaps we can learn from Ingrid in some instances. I know at a personal level, I need to rely less on justice-based retribution. This is a hard lesson to learn, to apply.

I would be curious as to how she would address Darfur and Zimbabwe. When force and genocide of masses of people are at stake. Then, of course, the US still does little in these areas to help other than a few policies a the state level, official statements at the national level and the protests of non profit organizations. One can only hope it will not be too little too late.

What is our current vocabulary of hate? What can we personally do to change that? Things to think about anyway.

Ingrid Betancourt Pulecio (born December 25, 1961) is a Colombian-French politician, former senator and anti-corruption activist. Betancourt was kidnapped by the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC) on February 23, 2002, and rescued from captivity six and a half years later in Operation Jaque, along with 14 other hostages (three Americans and 11 Colombian policemen and soldiers), by Colombian security forces on July 2, 2008, who tricked the FARC into believing they were a leftist non-governmental organization. In all, she was held captive for 2,321 days after being taken while campaigning for the Colombian presidency as a Green.*

* Green Party of Colombia Option Center is a Colombian political party associated with the philosophies of the Green party, the "political middle". The party advocates for having an ecological conscience, social justice, participative democracy, non violence resolutions, human sustainability and respect for diversity in order to improve the Colombian social, economic and political struggle and bring to and end the Colombian armed conflict.

needed interruptions

2008-07-04T18:39:00.000-07:00

Justice cries out from so many corners of our society. But unless events break into our lives - events like a man peddling for change on the corner or a picture on TV of a child living in poverty - and force us to ask questions, we often do not notice. Unless our lives are interrupted by an uncommon means, we tend to keep up business as usual. We need to be interrupted.

Will Samson
Justice in the Burbs: Being the Hands of Jesus Wherever You Live

Needed interuptions. Small shockers that jolt us from our day dreams. Interruptions that shake us into awareness of others is necessary. I think about how evil creeps into our lives each day. Evil is not like the movies or overly dramatic books. I think evil shows up in over-extending ourselves into looking only at what affects us. Evil is in the numbing rhythmn of ‘don’t rock the boat” routine. This numbing has us looking past those who need help to the status quo, encouraging us to think more of our own needs and ’self help’ as we watch talk shows and read books to improve ourselveshinking we can fix ourselves into being happy. Evil is the imbalance of self-need, of which Jesus did not practice.

What would Jesus need today? Jesus probably wouldn’t have an answer to that question, as it is more of a personal need. Not Oprah or Dr. Phil. Not Steven Covey. (The list is endless these days)

Of course, Jesus spent his ministry jolting others into awareness. If we are Jesus hands and feet. . . the body of Christ on earth, are we to jolt others as well? Someting to think about.

Your thoughts?

God-shaped hunger

2008-07-02T20:41:00.001-07:00

Macrina Wiederkehr

Most of us have to taste our need in a fierce sort of way before our hungers jar us into turning our lives over to God…. In the Divine Arms we become less demanding and more like the One who holds us. Then we experience new hungers. We hunger and thirst for justice, for goodness and holiness. We hunger for what is right. We hunger to be saints. Most of us are not nearly hungry enough for the things that really matter. That’s why it is so good for us to feel a gnawing in our guts. Macrina Wiederkehr, A Tree Full of Angels

Often I think society teaches us to hunger for the wrong things. Things, looks, conditions of our body are all obsessions we feed on through media, unsaid words, the passing down of familial views on items of non-importance in God’s eyes. We hunger for the perfect body, the right clothes, another pair of shoes. We hunger for retirement and 401Ks. We hunger for security in finances, the right ‘wheels’ and the perfect life of the “Rich and Famous”. When we hunger for these types of things, we are consuming junk food. We cannot fill a God-shaped hunger through filling it other things.

When we fill ourselves with what God desires, we see through God’s eyes, what we should hunger for instead, and in the process, are less tempted by that junk food, understanding what an impoverished diet we are consuming. We understand the need for more substantial, lasting nourishment.

One of my friends noted on another blog that this hunger, at its root, is a hunger for love and acceptance. If that is so, how does that fit into what God wants us to hunger after justice? Is that still the motivation? Or is love and acceptance now received the new motivation?

What are your thoughts?

stanley and the kingdom

2008-07-01T09:26:00.001-07:00

I read a lot of quotes during the week. Often they, like portions of scripture, are something I chew on and think about. Sometimes they lead to new books or articles to read written by or about the author.

Today I am starting a portion of the blog where I share these with you and ask your opinion. Here is the quote I read today from Stanley Hauerwas.

[W]e must first experience the kingdom if we are even to know what kind of freedom and what kind of equality we should desire. Christian freedom lies in service, Christian equality is equality before God, and neither can be achieved through the coercive efforts of liberal idealists who would transform the world into their image.” Stanley Hauerwas, The Servant Community: Christian Social Ethics” in The Hauerwas Reader

I like the connection between Christian freedom and service. Often I think people look at service, missional or otherwise as binding and inhibiting in their lives. Perhaps it is because there is too much junk/noise from other commitments? I agree that forcing people or guilting them into service is not freedom-giving either. As Christians, we must always be watchful for how our opinions and actions are coercive or life-giving to others. We are not, after all, to transform the world to our own ideal image of the Kingdom, but God’s vision. And that, takes faithful living as well as scriptural study, something we could all use a little bit more of anyway.

What are your reactions to it?

a testimony of treading water, garages and creativity

2008-06-27T20:17:00.000-07:00

A long time ago, I was bent on being famous in fiber art. Most of my extra time was for this purpose. Weekends, evenings after work deep into the night were spent creating art in my studio, honing my craft. My end game were competing in exhibits, selling work and looking towards when I would be a part of museum collections. I spent other time updating a website store, buying supplies, teaching and conversing with other fiber artists to extend my network online. I thought about ideas for creating pieces while I drove to my 9-5 job and sketched out ideas on scraps of paper during droning meetings. I dreamed of quilting patterns as I walked at night and as I did the laundry. And for my efforts, I reaped some benefits of all that energy. But in retrospect it was a lot like spiritually treading water.

A little over 5 years ago, several of the people I know began the journey of starting a new church in our town. We knew it would be lots of work and time commitment, but most of us felt the call to do so. But really, we had no idea what this would really be like. Non of us had ever planted a church before. It was about half way through this time that I realized that God really wasn’t in my life that much. I had put God in the garage so to speak. God was still accessible, but truly not part of my daily living space. For most of my life, I gave God little thought outside of any ‘church activity’ such as worship, church events and the like. My life was God or other, not both.

Convenient

Compartmentalized

Safe

But as my service to planting this church increased, I realized this view would have to give way to something else.

Our God is a wild God, and cannot be tamed. God cannot be defined, categorized or controlled. God is God and we are not, no matter how much we try to lord over our lives. I began to understand this as I learned to practice the presence of God, to read the scripture more and wrestle with it, to learn to talk to God anytime. Often my talks or prayers were not the calm, eyes closed version of contemplative prayer. Indeed, I raged and lamented to God with my eyes wide open, openly yelling in protest and anger. But through this God let me rail and wriggle and kept whispering what had to be done next. Then in slow AND in great leaps. . . things starting shifting.

Unnecessary commitments dropped. I spent my time, my energy in different directions, for different reasons. I began to realize that discipleship was more than going to church on Sundays. Discipleship was a mix of joy and sacrifice, sometimes pleasant and often unpleasant and confusing, challenging my perception of the word Christian. This was not the bill of goods my born-again colleagues touted in college. There some tried to convince me that being saved for heaven was within my grasp if I just said a certain paragraph of word and I was ‘in.’ It seemed to good to be true, and now I know it isn’t that easy. This was not what I understood from my UMC roots. This did not fit any of my experiences in various churches and denominations as we traipsed across the country during my husband’s Navy years. God was in my face all the time. God was making me look into the mirror or myself and there when I cringed at what I saw.

For some reason I never put it all together. I am a firm believer that there are many timelines in spiritual growth. God uses all in the time that is needed based on who we are. Indeed, I am often more like doubting Thomas than I care to admit. Therefore, I must put myself in the spiritual late bloomer category, giving new meaning to the phrase, “Great Awakening”. I learned that instead of the easy road, discipleship will require much more than just some words, it requires action, a lot of tripping on bumpy roads and several rollercoaster rides. It requires constant challenge and transformation. The journey is messy, gritty, and wild. It requires me to be more foolish and less cool. It shows me my pride and humbles me in the same instance. The more I listen to God whispers the less controlled and contained my life becomes. Yeah, God does drive me crazy.

What I do now is so different than 5 years ago. And even in the past year, this has shifted to a more intense focus on areas of concern to God...poverty, justice of the oppressed and mercy. This is so different than me from the past 'famous artist' stage where I had no time to commit to service projects or extra money for charities. I read a lot more as well. Bell, Claiborne, Willard, Zacharias, McLaren, Yancey, Wright, Lewis, and Miller have challenged my understanding of Christian discipleship, service and sacrifice. Now God lives not only in my house, but in other places I go . . . work, play, and places in between. As my good friend Ben Simpson said last week in his sermon, the spirit of God fills our cups and overflows into our lives and those around us. It seems that right now, I am always stepping in spilled water. Right now, the scales are off my eyes and my lenses are focused on what needs to be done in God’s Kingdom.

I do still create, but with words, not fabrics. I used to write a lot before the artist thing. Now I am back at it, one of my original loves. If only a few people read my blogs, that’s okay. I will still write as it is truly how I process thoughts. I still have the studio, but it is for the most part, inactive and I’m not sorry for it. It seems as if others are more concerned about my lack of ‘art piece production’ than I am. Instead my thoughts are on other things. Mostly Micah 6:8, Isaiah, Micah and all of James and Jesus.

Now as I drive, do dishes or walk, my creativity focuses on ways to affect what is happening in Darfur, how the children in Tanzania and Uganda our family sponsors are doing, how to help fulfill the needs of the hungry and homeless, what is the best way to be a socially-conscious consumer, how can I pass this passion on to the youth of our church and also trying to move towards being as green as possible. My time is also spent talking to God about these things and in prayer for others. For me, this is a better type of creativity. Onward.

My friends, what good is it to say you have faith, when you don't do anything to show that you really do have faith? Can that kind of faith save you? If you know someone who doesn't have any clothes or food, you shouldn't just say, "I hope all goes well for you. I hope you will be warm and have plenty to eat." What good is it to say this, unless you do something to help? Faith that doesn't lead us to do good deeds is all alone and dead!

Suppose someone disagrees and says, "It is possible to have faith without doing kind deeds."

I would answer, "Prove that you have faith without doing kind deeds, and I will prove that I have faith by doing them." You surely believe there is only one God. That's fine. Even demons believe this, and it makes them shake with fear.

Does some stupid person want proof that faith without deeds is useless? Well, our ancestor Abraham pleased God by putting his son Isaac on the altar to sacrifice him. Now you see how Abraham's faith and deeds worked together. He proved that his faith was real by what he did. This is what the Scriptures mean by saying, "Abraham had faith in God, and God was pleased with him." That's how Abraham became God's friend.
You can now see that we please God by what we do and not only by what we believe. For example, Rahab had been a prostitute. But she pleased God when she welcomed the spies and sent them home by another way. Anyone who doesn't breathe is dead, and faith that doesn't do anything is just as dead! James 2: 14-26

unplugged

2008-06-17T20:24:00.000-07:00

It has been a few days, neigh, weeks since I’ve last blogged. I’ve been, as they say in the corporate world, “Out of Pocket.” More like unplugged. Unplugged makes me think of the MTV or House of Blues by the same name where artists play without electronics, making their sound more true, definitely different, and new kind of sound at the root of all their songs.

I spent 7 days in mission with 5 other adult leaders and 14 youth ages 12-18. Yes, this meant no TV, no movies or much internet except on our mobile devices late at night as we prepared to crash for a few hours. We received barely any news about the flooding Iowa, although we did experience a 4 hour delay in Indiana on I 70 where the road was closed. We heard days after the tornado hit Manhattan, KS. Basically, all the normal channels of noise, communication, or news were silenced. Unplugged from our daily existence.

For a week, we served in the Kingdom of God, interacting outside of our comfort zones, serving food and talking to homeless people in parks and in programs such as Sunday Breakfast and St. John’s Hospice. We spent time praying for those in need, cleaning up neighborhoods of weeds and trash, visiting with the wheelchair bound and elderly, learning about other cultures and neighborhoods. We learned, we did what was needed or asked of us in the areas we served, we then came home to ‘normal’ life.

But it doesn’t seem as normal anymore.

It really isn’t the same. Or rather, I am different.

For a week, I unplugged from work, from regular family responsibilities and focused on being a better disciple through service, through looking for Christ in everyone I met. And in that light, it was the most transformational week in mission I’ve ever spent.

Here are just a few people I had the privilege to meet.

Julio was a man in the recovery program at Sunday Breakfast. He and Chef John pretty much ran the kitchen area. Julio looked to be in his late thirties, a slim man of Hispanic descent with several visible tattoos on his neck and arms. After spending 3.5 hours sorting and organizing the kitchen pantry, we worshipped with all the homeless men there for a free meal and the program participants before serving them dinner at their tables. One homeless man testimony started with, “I thank God for this day.” With no instruments except for the beat kept by clapping hands, we sang hymns familiar and unfamiliar. I could feel the holy spirit in that room.

Julio echoed all statements made by our team with an, “Amen.” Julio radiated gratefulness and thankfulness. He was great with the kids who helped in the kitchen. He was great with those who served food to the homeless at tables and not through a line, the only place I’ve seen do this. My hope is to carry but a small portion of Julio’s example back into my life.

Abdul, a homeless Muslim, was also a cook in army in Germany when the Wall fell. He didn’t like Germany for all its rain and understands the relentless needs of feeding people three squares a day. He had no net of people to fall back on when he went homeless, and has been on the streets for 2 years. Abdul was remaking his sleeping bag bed when we approached him. He has a homemade quilt-tied sleeping bag with actual neck ties at the end so it could be rolled up and fastened. Our conversation went on for about 15 minutes with three youth and myself. The whole conversation was that of mutual interest in understanding who we were as people. He has plans to get back on his feet. My dream is to treat all people with kindness and respect like that conversation was with Abdul.

His name might have been Rudy…but his name has been known to change as Joetta from Hands for Hope said. He was in LOVE Park. One of many men hanging around in the park that evening, ,I couldn’t tell if he was homeless. He said he was now going to have a home as a caretaker of a building, living in an apartment on the premises he received through pastor. There was no doubt in my mind that Rudy was full of the Holy Spirit as he witnessed to be for over 10 minutes. Rudy loved God more than any sack lunches we were offering. He was well fed on the Spirit. I should be so blessed.

I was introduced to Mary in the common area of a floor at the Simpson House
She was a small lady, light in build in a wheelchair. She talked of Fairmount Park, the largest park in the country and its issues with deer population. We bonded over our love for the movie, “The Quiet Man,” with John Wayne and Maureen O’Hara. She actually visited the location where they built the house Wayne and O’Hara lived in. She was there in the 50’s and has ties in that area. She reminisced about being called a Yank in Ireland.

Bruce was a tray processor and program participant at St. John’s Hospice and in the program. Jerry was a volunteer who also took trays. Both were very positive men whom I helped with trays, speaking kind words to all those who had eaten. We were happy to take the trays of homeless men who were finishing up their casserole, bread, fruit and water lunch. St. John’s served 335 people in 60 minutes in a room that seated only 64 at capacity. This is done every day with all donated foods from area churches and businesses. Efficient yet caring, the homeless have pitchers of water at their tables which are constantly refilled by server volunteers and people to take their trays as they finish. There was a die cut black and white painting called “Christ in the Bread Line” on one wall. It felt like we valued and served all people there with kindness, love and respect that Christ would expect from us.

Anna Kate was our team’s (team “Mad Croc”) Center for Student Mission host this week at mission sites. Anna was great, and also a kindred spirit of the left instead of right turn syndrome. I call it directionally challenged, of which I am a card-caring member. The good news is that we didn’t get lost in ‘bad’ neighborhoods. That was impossible! Anna’s sense of humor and ability to connect us with those at each site was a true blessing. It reminded me that building relationships between unlike people is a very important part of connecting with all of God’s people. Anna reminded me of this part of mission. All relationships are key where we serve. Always.

So slowly, I begin to ‘plug’ in again, but perhaps more selectively. Perhaps more deliberately. I will not engage in the same ways. I holding the true notes of this experience alive, pure, and unfettered by too much noise.

I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear and put their trust in the Lord. Blessed is the man who makes the Lord his trust, who does not look to the proud, to those who turn aside to false gods. Many, O Lord my God, are the wonders you have done. The things you planned for us no one can recount to you; were I to speak and tell of them, they would be too many to declare. Psalms 40:1-5

one dollar for herman and help the homeless

2008-05-30T13:35:00.000-07:00

Every small thing counts, even that one dollar bill in your pocket or wallet.

I found this through the Ordinary Radicals site. It's about a way that one dollar and a few others can help one homeless man named Herman.

Most of you reading this have had encounters with the homeless. I encourage you to tell your stories at the end of the this blog. I have encountered homeless in my life. In fact, since going on youth urban ministry trips through CSM as well as reading books like, "In the Gutter" by Craig Gross, "Under the Overpass" by Mike Yankoski and "Irresistible Revolution" by Shane Claiborne, I see more homeless people every day. In fact, I look for them.

Often we struggle with what is the best way to help the homeless. We struggle with our own assumptions and prejudices about why people are homeless. Often these struggles leave us frozen in place instead of moving into some sort of action. Any action, my friends is action. You know Jesus would not hesitate, and neither should we.

Here is your opportunity to skip that soda or cheap hamburger at McDonald's and collectively pool our dollars to help Herman. Read about his story and who is helping him with this money. Then act. They encourage you to only send a dollar and pass the suggestion on to another.

He raises the poor from the dust
and lifts the needy from the ash heap;
he seats them with princes
and has them inherit a throne of honor.
"For the foundations of the earth are the LORD's;
upon them he has set the world. 1 Samuel 2:8

Licking the envelope as I type this (okay, maybe not simultaneously!)

Deana

burned

2008-05-27T12:04:00.000-07:00

There are many types of burns. There are sunburns, of which my daughter had a small taste of this past Memorial Day weekend. These sunburns hangout for a bit, rearing their angry red after the sun sets. They can be soothed by aloe and other such potions, but in most cases, the ‘sunburn wearer’ must endure through the heat and uncomfortable feeling of clothes for a few days. Sometimes sunburns blister and peel. Okay, most times they do, revealing new skin below which is less pink and sore, putting back to right our epidermal layer.

Burn is a name of an Usher song and also what the KKK did to crosses in the south. We burn trash, CDs and DVDS. We burn food and ourselves when cooking it. Bonfires burn for homecomings and hayrides. We burn with desire in our hearts and well as get heart burn, which is rather unpleasant in the second case . . . and can also be so in the first case, depending on where we are placing our affection. There are burn institutes and an album by Deep Purple, their 8th called Burn. We burn in ‘disco infernos.’ Burns is also then name of the conniving nuclear plant in The Simpsons and at the other end of the spectrum, my ohana, Jamie’s, old last name, now replaced with a cooler one by marriage about a year ago now.

When I was younger, the phrase, “You got burned!” was very popular. It was a reference to an insult, usually said in the company of others to put them down, to lower them in some way in the face of others listening. Sometimes this phrase was shorted to just, “BURN!” Sometimes these were followed by quick or often no so quick and witty responses to the challenger by the ‘burnie’.

In today’s technically joined world, burns or insults of that nature seem to be private or even public but now at the speed of light. An email here and there sometimes alone or to a group of others puts in writing what was in the past a passing comment. Similarly, blogs are out for everyone to see and often comment on based on the claims made by those ‘burning others’. Burns in these cases are often emails or blogged more in haste than when I was growing up. But are these as easy to forgive? In person, things can be resolved with immediate feedback or comment, so I guess it depends on the burn. And I must admit, I’ve been burned quite a few times since March in this arena. I now have a distinct different view of these types of ‘fired off’ communications.

This experience has lead me to a book I recently finished called, Amish Grace: How Forgiveness Transcended Tragedy by Donald Kraybill (and others). In it, Kraybill talks of the Nickel Mines schoolhouse tragedy and the Amish ability to forgive the gunman. The author explores why the Amish forgave so quickly. This is deeply rooted in their culture and taught from a very early age. What I found important about the book is not this reference to forgiveness and grace, but the explanation of the differences between forgiveness and reconciliation. These are two things that are often intertwined, but as Kraybill notes, are not necessarily inclusively related. Often people think that forgiven REQUIRES the act of reconciliation, yet it is noted that ne can forgive without reconciliation. Here are the different definitions:

Forgive: is the mental and/or spiritual process of ceasing to feel resentment, indignation or anger against another person for a perceived offense, difference or mistake, or ceasing to demand punishment or restitution

Reconcile: to compose or settle and bring into mutual harmony through the reestablishment of trust within both parties and the recognition of a wronged party.
Forgiveness is the beginning and is essential to discipleship.

“Their (the Amish) belief is that they should immediately forgive anyone who harms them is in stark contrast to popular ideas.” (Kraybill)

The Amish understand that discipleship means the single-minded attempt to live in a way that as closely follows Christ's example as is humanly possible. This includes what the Christ taught in the Lord’s Prayer, to forgive others are we are forgiven. While many mainstream Christians may see forgiveness as the end of a long emotional process, the Amish believe it's the start. They understand that they may feel angry and depressed, but they do not believe they should let painful feelings dictate their conduct toward others. In other words, to forgive is to move on and not seek out retaliation and not to set apart others due to their transgressions or offences. The book also clarifies for me what forgiveness is not.

* Forgiveness is not easy
* Forgiveness does NOT mean the victim forgets or that the offender cannot be punished.
* Forgiveness is not the same as reconciliation; it is the start of it.
* A person can forgive another but not be reconciled.
* Reconciliation only takes place if the offender repents.

“Do not take revenge, my friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay, says the Lord” Romans 12:19.

“Alexander the metalworker did me a great deal of harm. The Lord will repay him for what he has done” 2 Timothy 4:14.

It is hard to be wronged. Yes, it is hard to forgive, too, but as a disciple of Christ, I must. The email burn I experienced earlier this year has been soothed with aloe and wrapped in the act of forgiveness. I understand the reconciliation takes time and true repentance for the wrong. I cannot retaliate. I cannot force repentance. Most of all, I cannot exact revenge or expect God to exact in the way I perceive it. In addition, I must treat these persons with kindness and not hold it against them. This rest I must leave in God’s hands. The fact that I am finally writing about this is a good step that makes me believe God is already working. There’s hope in that as my new skin emerges after the burn.

My God, free me from the grip of Wicked, from the clutch of Bad and Bully. You keep me going when times are tough— my bedrock, God, since my childhood. Psalm 71: 5 (The Message)