Rain

I have been known to miss very large, important things that are staring me in the face. You know, the stererotypical trouble of looking for your glasses while they're sitting on your head. This time, though, I really did it. I missed Jesus.

Because the cross of Christ really does apply to me. I really cannot screw up beyond the reach of it. My failure cannot exhaust it's mercy. And that really does make a difference. Or at least I think it's finally beginning to.

A year ago I moved back home to Atlanta to start over. And over. And over. My intention was to admit defeat, ask for forgiveness, and return to the church family that loved me so well as a kid.
Instead most of this year has been like running uphill in a hamster cage, leaving me, as one might presume, frustrated and tired.

All of this while my glasses were sitting on my head.

Apparently it takes quite a jerk to wake me up. But that's fine because Jaci and Sean took care of that by scheming to put me on as many roller coasters as possible last weekend. That's right, the last fear that I was supposed to face during Lent was rollercoasters, and now it is done. The three of us, after I threw a very immature fit of rage involving a Boston creme donunt, drove to Sixflags and rode the Batman, the Georgia Cyclone, the Superman, and the Goliath. The Goliath we rode three times in a row until I threw up, a moment of passage that now ranks among my favorites. I also believe this is when my glasses started to fall off my head.

This week was Goldrush, a student lead retreat for middle and high school students that I think got started about ten years ago, when I was a freshman. I had been in rehearsals with students doing the dramas each night and this week simply showed up to pray with them and watch them do their thing--which turned out to be quite a gift, because, as these things usually go, God's grace was more in charge than our talents were. The theme for the week was God is Greater Than...
Greater than the suffering in the world
Greater than the suffering in our communities
Greater than the sin in you and me that makes us feel small and helpless

Every night I got to see precious people that I left behind when I moved away seven years ago.
Every night these students were being hilarious and crazy, but also wise and courageous. My head started to itch where the glasses were sitting.

Thursday night these same students got together and prayed--for each other, for their communities, and without knowing it, I think they must have prayed for me. Later that night I talked with a dear friend about forgiveness, and on Friday, after watching a movie called Bella, which I now highly recommend, Jesus tapped me on the shoulder.

I sat and read through the crucifixion account and the resurrection, and how Jesus met Peter on the beach with breakfast, giving him a fresh start after several days of what must have been living hell. And I wanted to have breakfast, too.
Enter foot washing, silence, and peace.

Do you love me?
Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.
Do you love me?
Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.
Do you love me?
Yes, Lord, you know all things. You know that I love you.

And I love you, too.
You don't need to quit. You just need to start over.
Don't forget your glasses. They're right here. On top of your head.

"Surely he took up our pain and bore our suffering, yet we considered him punished by God, stricken by him, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed."

Rain has fallen steadily all day, and my soul is beginning to feel clean and roomy again.

Oh love wash over a multitude of things. Jesus save us from a multitude of things. There is a love, there is a hope, there is a healing that always prevails. --Sarah Groves

To be fearless

I have to confess...I think I've been afraid of really writing on this blog. But it seems that despite my lack of follow-through with my own fears, some of you really were brave. Kudos. It's been a privilege to hear the stories.

Now then, since it has come to my attention that I am on some level afraid of my own creativity, I will continue to post things here. It all started with Lent, but I don't think it is going to end there. As I venture to take up writing again in this particular sphere, I invite you to receive whatever materializes. Please allow me to join in on the real fear-facing a bit late.

Recovering my eyes

A jagged purple mystery--
mirrors all around
and blackened,
spotted;
here the trace
of fragile beauty
layered, sharp, rich
and deep as the crack
which bore its revelation.
Light rubs out
the places turned away
and ushers translucent transcendence.
Hear the rock glass cry,
trying to understand,
or to believe
that the back does
not mar the front to ugliness.
Feeling, knowing there
are calluses enclosing radiance
despite the reflection that is blind.
You are unspeakable beauty
dearest--cling to my eyes
and leave the looking glass alone
with its spots.

Two weeks in...

Well, perhaps some of our fears have been faced in the last few days. Just got to help a friend face one and it was amazing. Hope no one is trying to do this alone--it's far easier and much more fun if you get some people to tag along and cheer you on. Personally, I'm finding myself in a fear facing mindset that causes me to do lots of little things that scare me a little, as opposed to doing a few things that scare me a lot. What exactly?

Well here are a few of them:
1. admitted defeat
2. called an old friend
3. cried in front of someone
4. decided to live in the everyday instead of escaping to the next big adventure I wasn't ready for
5. began to try living in the unconditional love of God that is not dependent upon my contribution to society...started by doing absolutely nothing on Sunday--which I now highly recommend.

(okay, maybe these weren't such little fears, but they felt smaller than the terror that fills me at the thought of riding a rollercoaster)

So my question is, anyone got a story to share? Or are you scared to tell it?

What is all this jumping about? Glad you asked...

It's January and the first Day of Lent is Sunday, February 6, 2008. Lent is a 40 period from Ash Wednesday to Easter that many Christian denominations observe as a time of fasting and prayer. You can read more about it here if you'd like.

Much of the time people choose to fast from things like coffee, dessert, or TV--but what if we thought more deeply about what it is that pollutes us? The history of Lent goes back in part to the 40-day temptation of Jesus in the desert, when Christ faced hardship with the truth of Scripture. The fasting tradition of Lent then is associated with an act of the will to follow God. It's true that missing my daily cup of caffeinated bliss is difficult, but I'm not sure it's a true test of my will. What is? Facing fear.

Whether it's fear of other people's opinion, of safety on the streets, failure, loneliness, poverty, or even simply the truth...it seems everyone's got something to be afraid of. Personally, I'm tired of living that way.

Here's the thing..there is no room for fear in love. And there's plenty of room at the foot of the cross for Perfect Love in Jesus Christ to take us in. Would you fast from fear for Lent?

Make a list of your biggest fears. Really. Get it all out on paper.

Decide on some conversations, travel plans--whatever it takes--that fly in the face of those fears.

Pick one thing to do each week of Lent and actually do it.

Come back to this blog and write about how it's going. Let's do this thing together, praying each other through, and perhaps we'll have the courage to continue fasting from fear long after Easter Sunday has come and gone.