Tuesday, November 13, 2018

In The Midst

From my archive of unpublished writings.

December 4, 2017

This has been on my heart for years, to share about being in the midst.

The problem with sharing about being in the midst is that it means you are right there in it.  It means you are vulnerable and vulnerability is incredibly risky.

It is also easy to feel like you are no good to anyone when you are right there in the middle of whatever it is you are going through, be it depression, anxiety, sucky ass parenting problems, or just a season of hard.

Who am I? You might ask.  Who am I to be of anything good to anyone.? I don't have it all figured out.  I don't have the amazing story of how I made it from here to there, I am just here.

Can I tell you something?  I would love to hear someone stand up and say "Here I am! In all my mess.  Here I am, can you relate? Here I am, but I know that God is here too, or maybe I don't feel Him here and need you to remind me. Here I am and maybe God can still use me right now in this place to help you."

Does anyone else want to hear that too?  I don't mean hear it whispered on the side lines. I want to hear it from the pulpit, from the women's groups, from the public places.  I want to hear that it is okay not to have it all figured out.  I want to hear it is okay to struggle.

That would be risky, I know.  To let some mud up on a stage where the lights are meant to make things shine.  But didn't Jesus come to bring light to those dirty dark places?  Didn't Jesus always come and meet us right there in the middle of our humanity in all of its messy unpleasantness?

The Bible is full of stories of people who are living in the middle of their messes and God using them right there to His glory.  Why do we have a culture that says we need it all figured out before we can open up our mouths to share?  There is a lot of power in the "me, too." There is a lot of power in hearing that someone else is where you are.  There is a lot of power in being able to share where you are and knowing that where you are is okay and that others are with you.  Shouldn't that be the culture of our churches?


Monday, October 8, 2018

What is love

Just a blip of fictional writing that may or may not go farther some day.

“You speak to me of love, but what is love that I should even want it? The only kind of love I have ever known is the kind that consumes. It only values what it can take from me.  What is love that doesn’t devour in return for its affection? I don’t know it , don’t believe in it, and I don’t want it.” 

The man across from her listened closely to the heartbreak that underscored the harsh tone and words. His heart and eyes filled with sorrow at a world so broken that even love could be distorted to the point that someone would feel safer without it.  Of course he knew that the love she was talking about was not love at all, but only a monster named Selfishness masquerading as love.  He had to choose his next words carefully, but no matter what he chose to say, he also knew that they would be meaningless, even more damaging if he wasn’t prepared to follow them up with actions. His ability to teach what love is was only as good as his ability to show it consistently and over time. 

“The love you described is not love.  Real love does not devour or consume, it builds up and strengthens. It gives of itself to bring a person to better, not just to make them more comfortable in their broken-ness.  If we allow someone to see us as and use us as an object that is there merely for their pleasure we are only making them more comfortable in their unhealthy broken appetite.  We are not leaving them or us better.   Likewise if we only want someone to be there for our pleasure we for sure aren’t truly loving and valuing them, or ourselves.  True, real love starts by knowing our own value and then offering that same value to someone else.  Cheapening your value cheapens the love that you are able to give and be given.

Monday, June 25, 2018

Saying Goodbye



SAYING GOODBYE

I re-visit the room often in the eye of my mind.  The way the sunlight filters through the shades that cover the bottom half of the window, so no one can look in.  The view of the trees through the open space above it.  This room became home for my words and thoughts even if I never quite found it comfortable or cozy.  It was always an odd mix of cool and warm, never fully both, but it was where my words found a place to land.  That is, until I chose the wrong ones, so now I come here only in my mind.  But like all things in this world, even in my mind I find that I can never truly go back.  Even here it is not the same.  It is more reflection than substance.  Mainly, you are no longer here.  Years past, I could find you in this room, waiting for me, but now you have gone.

I need to find a way to say goodbye, because even though you aren’t here anymore I still am.

I glance at the empty chair where you used to sit. I touch the arm of it with my hand and then I do the un-thinkable and sit in your place.  I turn to look at the couch where I always used to sit.  To see what you must have seen and how I must have looked from this side of the room. My eyes aren’t yours though, so all I can see is my own perception looking back.

The colors in the room have all faded.  They aren’t even sepia, but a grainy black and white like an old movie.  It is time to let this space and you go.

I stand, run my hand across the blanket on the back of the chair and open the door.  I look at the desk half hoping to see you sitting behind it where you seemed most distant in the real version of this room, but even there the chair sits empty.  I step through the door, but leave it wide open.