God help us.

Some mornings I hate the freedom the internet gives us.
That's a little harsh, because, well, here I am, on the internet.  I'm sure there's plenty of people who read what I write, and disagree just as much, so I need to chill for a minute.

(Breathe.  Think.  Breathe.)

I think what really bothers me is that the ones with the biggest followings, or the most influence (in the terms of reaching the most people) aren't addressing the horrible things we experience with the fullness of grace that we're called to.  (Myself included.  Believe me, I've spent a good thirty minutes bouncing off the walls in my house, venting my frustrations and anger at people's generic statements, usually in colorful terms.)

(Breathe, think, breathe.)

Mental illness and depression (and suicide) are hot topics again today, because now it's public knowledge of a celebrity's struggle with these things.
And, all of a sudden, everyone's an expert.  Dealing with it your whole life does not make one an expert, it makes someone who has a perspective worthy of adding to the discussion.

As I see it, and don't crucify me (I can do that well enough on my own, thankyouverymuch), the things we each go through are just as individual to us as our fingerprints.  Not one person lives the same exact life as someone else.  No one has the same experiences, the same family, the same emotions, the same brain, the same hormones, the same work ethic, or even the same faith.
Because of all those differences, how each one of us responds to our life experiences differs, as well.

The same can be said for illness.  Mental illness has been likened to cancer, in that it's a disease; a malfunction in the proper operation of the body.
There are different kind of cancers.  Some are slow progressing, easily detected, and treatable; while others are quick, aggressive, ruthless, and leave us shaking in the wake of a life gone too soon.
Because of all the different kind of cancers, there are different kinds of treatments. One treatment may work for some kind of cancers, where the same treatment may be completely ineffective for others.
In order to treat cancer, the doctor has to know the patient, know the disease, and know the treatments.

In the case of depression, just as with cancer, there are varying degrees of depression; each as individual as the lives of the people who struggle with it.

Internet experts may state that 'finding your joy' is the trick to beating depression.  And maybe that worked for them, and it may actually help someone else who fights their depression.  God willing, I pray it does.
But for those who struggle with the agony of opening their eyes each day, this advice is more than likely going to be received with a retaliatory punch in the throat; especially when the advice is delivered with what could be perceived as condescension and false expertise.

As those who follow Christ, we have a responsibility to one another.  That responsibility is a call to love, with grace and compassion.
Grace and compassion allow us to see one another as fellow human beings; as people, all of us broken in some way, shape, or form.  Whether we can see each other's brokenness isn't the point, neither is it to point out the brokenness, or offer our quick fix solutions.  We're just called to be there.  To share our lives.

The more deeply we become involved in one another's lives, the more we discover that our "kitsch Jesus" doesn't answer the tough questions in life.  Simple, one-liner, crutches (most of which lack any theological truth) won't help those who may be drowning in darkness.  If we look carefully, we'll see that our kitsch Jesus mentality steers us clear of any of the darkness in this life, as well as the darkness in the lives of others.  Our kitsch Jesus mentality keeps us on a pedestal of our own creation, zinging one-liners out to whoever we see below us.  After all, we have all the answers (in one line)... what would we ever need God for??

If we treated each person we met with the 'one-liner-fixes-all' mentality, then we're missing out on the beauty of the love and healing of Christ, that, Newsflash: He uses us for, in the lives of those around us.

To love, as we're called to love, is to de-elevate ourselves; deflate the importance of our self-imposed beliefs for the sake of sharing love and truth with someone.  To love is to be connected.  The value of our relationships become evident in our presence with one another, not in our correctness.  (Think about it... is there anyone in your life who always has to be right?  We don't end up spending much time with them, do we.)  To love is to value you, just as you are.  Just as I am.  And to realize that what worked for me in certain situations may not work for you, and that's okay.  You are not me, and I am not you.  Acceptance of that truth alone may just change the way we look at each other, and respond to one another.

If we were to spend time together, getting to know one another, instead of advising and judging one another, we might just see how our presence in each other's lives makes our story go on just a little bit longer.  In the life of someone battling mental illness, depression, or suicidal thoughts, that may make all the difference in the world.

Together, we might just be able to hold off the darkness.
Even if it's just for one more day.

Snapshots of Eden

The sun had just dipped behind the treetops on the horizon, giving way to twilight.

As the night creatures emerged, something else did too.  Innocence crept in, and I almost missed it.

Weary from our day of being cooped up in the car, the gut-twisting meals on the go, and ridiculous eye-rolling and laughter generated by silly music blasting through the car's speakers; when the car finally stopped, all four doors burst open, and our energy could finally be released.

Greeted by the cool evening air of this northern valley, the first relaxed breath exhaled "home".  Not the "home" we lived in now, but the "home" of memories and dreams.

Hugs and kisses; excited expressions of familial love dispersed.  We sat to catch up, take in assessments of well-being that just can't be done over the phone.

Attention spans being what they are, it didn't take long for the kids to find something to do.
Because of the boy's familiarity with the settings (and his lack of fear which allows him to enjoy every moment), he grabbed the girl, and they ran off into the deepening shade of the yard.

Socks and shoes off, I could tell she was taking it all in.  She'd never been here before, so she wasn't quite ready to leave his side to explore on her own.

Once he showed her around, pointing out everything they saw, I felt her relax from across the yard.
Without her even knowing, it happened... she let go; triggered by the soft flash of the firefly in front of her face.
Their careful exploration transformed into a carefree chase, the quintessential childhood memory played out before my eyes.

The noises that punctuated the young night are forever etched into my memory; the wonder of it all thickened the air around us.
Squeals of discovery and surprise, faint whispers of up-close and detailed instruction, and muffled giggles turned into unashamed belly laughter.

If only this moment could last forever; this moment where two kids, almost midway through their teen years, could forget about their everyday lives.
For those few moments, I caught a glimpse of innocence in these two kids, who hadn't experienced much innocence in their own lives for any prolonged amount of time.
For those few moments, the rest of the world didn't matter to them.
   Time stopped... watching and judging eyes stopped...  and so did their cares and worries about them.

It caught my breath to see this side of them; my role in their lives being very much of a confidant and counselor; very aware of the emerging adult-like issues they face every day that try to steal or conceal their childhood.

Whether they realized it or not, this moment was a treasured gift to me.

These moments don't happen very often, but when they do, they're a reminder of the potential for innocence to return at any moment.

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...)