Quick - Abandon Ship!

Abandoning ship seems to be the quickest and easiest way for us to deal with problems.

As human beings in our relationships, as well as human institutions, when things don't go our way, our ingrained fight-or-flight instinct causes us to walk away, close doors, or even run.

See, it would take actual C O U R A G E to stay and fight for something, to stick it out, to work through a conflict, to communicate through misunderstanding, to own up to our own shortfalls and mistakes.

But we're so focused on ourselves, our wants, our needs, and our time lines, that we fail to see the big picture.  We fail to see the possibility of God's timing in each situation.  We fail to see how our own actions of self-absorption may affect those on the other side of our perspective.  And more often than not, we fail to offer grace, mercy, and forgiveness with anything other than our lip service.

Connection and community, if they're anything worth pursuing, are fluent in those three concepts.
We get hung up on ourselves, though.
It takes love to offer grace, mercy and forgiveness.

As long as I'm in the center of my universe, I don't care how you are affected by what I do.

As long as 'what I want' is my priority, then I cannot forgive how you may act or speak against that.

As long as my focus is on me, then I will continue to be offended by anything different than me.

As long as I am offended, I will refuse to see how I could have done anything wrong.

As long as I refuse to take any responsibility for my relationships, my relationships will continue to fail.

As long as perspective stays centered on my life and experience, then connection is impossible.

As long as we keep ourselves in the center of our concerns, love has no hold on us, and we are unable to offer grace, or mercy, or forgiveness.  We will have no long term connections or relationships.

As long as I am the most important thing in my life, abandoning ship will always be the way I deal with anything that counters my worldview.

It takes courage to admit that you're not the center of the universe.
It takes courage to admit you did something wrong.
It takes courage to not be offended.
It takes courage to Love.

It takes courage not to abandon ship.

Sunset

The sun set before it reached the horizon tonight.  In it, I watched the decline of the church.

We know it's going to happen, but we can't see the layer of clouds off in the far distance that blur the line between the horizon we can see & the horizon that never ends.  

In the blink of an eye, it's gone.  

She hadn't even reached the point where she would've begin sinking beneath the dividing line between earth and sky,  and yet, she's gone.

Our own limited eyesight, paired with laws of the universe set in motion in the beginning, prevented us from seeing the sun set prematurely, and from doing anything about it.

All we can do is watch as the star we worship disappears.

What If...

What if we bonded together with the desire to learn more about one another, to know one another, instead of only banding together on thoughtless, polarized issues?

What if conversation to understand one another was our goal, not just powerless claims of our beliefs; loud statements on where we stand, silently screaming "I'm right, & I don't care why you think the way you do"?

What if we took to heart the wisdom that tells us to love our neighbors as we love ourselves, instead of placing ourselves on our altars of worship and life?

What if we shared more of our experiences and relationships, instead of our opinions?

What if we rallied around victims of injustice and gave them power back over their lives, instead of stepping into the recently-vacated position of perpetrator?

What if we could answer, intelligibly, the question of why we stand where we stand?

What if we shared the freedom of relationship in our spiritual lives, instead of trying to dictate rules for everyone's life, and calling that faith?

What if we saw people, and treated them like a brother or sister, instead of using anything and everything to divide us, and further separate us?

What if we let love drive our relationships, instead of fear, judgement, self-preservation, and self-exaltation?

What if we didn't run from people, relationships, and lives that challenge us?

What if we didn't look down our self-righteous noses at anyone who thinks or believes differently than we do?

What if we embraced those who think differently, or act differently, or look different than we do?

What if we saw the world that's "going to hell in a hand basket" as our opportunity to be the church as she's supposed to be?

What if we didn't shy away from conflict, or from connection because of our own discomfort?

What if we sought God in each situation, and in each relationship before we spout off at the mouth?

What if we left the judgement up to God, and actually offered people the opportunity of relationship with God, outside of our judgement?

What if we took personal responsibility for every one of our relationships, desiring "connection" more than "correctness"?

What if we allowed ourselves to be accountable to those we're learning from, and those learning from us?

What if compassion outweighed our hypocrisy?

What if our presence alone was more powerful than our judgements, suggestions, or rules?

What if people really encountered the love of Christ by knowing us, instead of running from the image of god we've created?

What if who we are, individually and corporately, is ten times more powerful than anything we do in the name of religion?

Derailed; we've become more of a misrepresentation of the Kingdom we claim than an expression.

Agony of the Cross

I try to hide in my seclusion, frustrated by every little interruption outside of my precious schedule.

The quiet never stays long enough, but always when I don't want it to.

Tasks of the day pushed off, excuses made, justifications laid out, by and to myself.

I force myself into my own prison, where I am my own captor; the walls being this body, this personality, this discipline I'm fighting.  There's only one window letting in light, and I'm shying away from it as much as I can.
The light reaches me anyway, no matter where I hide.

Contact from the outside sparks instant battle; I fight what I know to be True for the sake of who I think I am.  Shots are fired, and hits are taken instantaneously.  It is pride who yields my sword, trying so valiantly to protect my prison cell, and isn't going down without a fight.

Decisions are made to either participate in what it is I'm called to share, or retreat from it... and my own  hypocrisy physically pains me...

Words come rushing in, words I thought I knew, but this new clarity literally humiliates me...
Accountability... and all that means; opening up all of me, strengths and weaknesses...
Community...  being available... building up someone... beneficial... importance of understanding individual relationships... the responsibility that comes with that freedom, for myself and others...

I'm haunted by my recent failings; a prisoner sentenced to, and already living in, death.

The agony doesn't come from the crucifixion itself, the agony comes in the acceptance of the sentence; a sentence, if I would just shut up and listen for once, I'd see doesn't lead to the death I think it does.

Brutal Pruning

I massacred one of the bushes in front of my house today.
Hacked it all to pieces.

It was here when we moved in, already overgrown; blocking the guest room window, and all-too-inviting for the Virginia creeper that uses it to gain its stronghold over the siding on the house.

I started with the giant scissor-looking-things, just to get the leaves out of the way, so I could see and assess what I was going to be dealing with.

The small branches were no match against the force of my sharpened blades and determined shoulders.  By the time I got the leaves and small branches cut off, determined to make this stupid bush look like the others, I was a sweating hot mess, panting like a monster, and no longer able to raise my arms.  The branches that remained were taller than me, and thicker than what my suddenly-burdensome tool could handle.

I contemplated just grabbing the chainsaw and cutting the whole damn thing down, but all the plants working together to express my yard would definitely miss it.  It would leave a gaping, unfillable hole.

The trick wasn't more power, but more finesse.  I needed the right tool, and that was going to be one that would cut through the thick branches one-by-one, individually.  Judging by the burning in my shoulders, I knew I'd have to change my pace as well, because if I used the hand-held pruners with the same fervency as I had the scissors/trimmers, I'd be setting myself up for a crippling hand cramp injury.

I slowly cut away a few of the tall, thick, spindly branches.
That's when I saw the bird nest.
Dammit.

Was there anything in it, or was this just evidence of previous life?
I didn't want to disturb it right away; I can't, in good conscience, destroy some thing's home.  (Unless I know it's not being used.  Then it's fair game.)

I cut away all the branches around the nest, leaving this ridiculous cropping of nest-embedded branches.  I'll deal with the nest later.
(At first, I thought it looked like crap, like a tiny green umbrella over a giant knot of branches.)

I think if I was able to cut that section off, people could look at my hack-job and realize what I was trying to accomplish.
Bare, twisted, lopped-off branches now, but as the season progressed, it would be filled in by new growth.  Tender, but fuller, healthier.

Anyone who's ever dealt with an overgrown shrub, (I think it's a Camellia?) knows this is bound to happen; this hard pruning that seems to destroy, but really shapes into something more desirable.

That was my goal when I started; to shape this overgrown shrub into something better, healthier.
Now that I look at how strange it looks, all misshapen, lopsided, I'm kind of diggin' the weirdness of the whole thing.
Maybe I'll leave it for a few days, and figure out what to do about this nest...



(I re-read all this and laugh...I realize and remember it's not the first time God used a bush to speak to someone...)

Grey Rolling Away

The grey clouds are slowly rolling away; breaking apart, being burned up by the morning sun.
It looks like it's turning out to be a beautiful day.

Something about that is unsettling for a minute; like everything's going to be okay, but I know I'm not okay with it just yet.  Waiting for God to reveal to me more about the storms that have come and go; pondering how I hear him most in the conflicts, even if it is just Him telling me to shut up.

Contemplating the dynamics of family and community; the threads of understanding, humility, and grace that tie both together, despite the seemingly vast chasm between.
And how everything horrible that is felt and thought in reaction to those connections is continuously redeemed by one, always unexpectedly.

Finding my place among the saints and sinners, and being okay with that; weary from trying to fit in with those who I am not like.
Finding my peace with who I am, much to the chagrin of those who wish to change me.

Learning to embrace the tie that binds, the unifying heart that beats inside all of us, whether we are aware of it or not; binding peace to war, kind to ruthless, light to dark, ignorance to awareness.

Becoming aware of my distraught comfort in the grey, because of the Truth of my connection to divinity, not my 'feelings' on connection to divinity.

Embracing new awareness of my sick enjoyment of the unknown, because of my dependence on the one who wrote the story, His story.  Knowing I'm involved in the story, not that the story is about me.

Prayers of "what's next" breathed in unrecognized exasperation turn into thankful praise as the clarity of understanding comes in mere lightning flashes of understanding.

The peace that I pray for has nothing to do with who fills my home, or who doesn't; who I'm connected to or not.
It has everything to do with why.

Rude awakenings

There is not very much that I loathe more than waking up to the eye-burning, nostril-searing, and choking assault that is dogshit.

In the last few days, one of our three dogs hasn't felt well.
It only took a couple of hours to figure out which one was leaving their evidence of gastrointestinal distress.

Great.  It's the big one.
Why couldn't it be the small one?  Or even the medium dog?
     Oh wait- nevermind.  His legs are too short for him to actually point his nether-region "downward".  Historically, when the medium dog is ill, his evidence leaves a trail; covering the floor, the baseboard, and four inches up the wall above the baseboard.  And, oh, by the way, it stains.
Everything.

It's kind of ironic really, that the big dog is sick, since we're dealing with some health scares with some friends.
One is having a barrage of  tests done today to find out what's wrong with his throat, while another friend is sitting in the intensive care unit, waiting on a heart catheterization to investigate possible blockages.

Everyone's operating in a new level of worry; all of a sudden, aware of the health we all take for granted.  Just like the dog with the squirts, we all know something isn't right.

It's interesting how we live, oblivious to how the 'what we do now' could affect our future; whether it's the near future, or far off.
But when the reminder of our own mortality shows up, suddenly we're painfully aware of what we've done wrong, or what we've done right.  It is then that fear grips us.

If the fear of death had a smell, it would smell like dogshit.

Once it's there, no matter how hard you scrub, the stench doesn't leave right away.  It lingers.  You have to fight to get rid of it.  All the candles in the world can't make the smell disappear.  The only thing that works is a cross breeze, a little patience, and time.

A gas mask wouldn't hurt, either...