Flirting with the Mystery of the Unknown

Follow me

2010-08-08T07:04:00.001-07:00

Hello friends. At risk of sounding like a total narcissist, I invite you to come follow me at my new blog.... Like an over saturated coffee-shop, I won't be staying here anymore. You can find me at the new, hip place on the corner: www.walkingcontemplative.com

2010-06-03T07:06:00.000-07:00

Benedictine Way

2010-06-02T07:20:00.000-07:00

Every eight weeks I drive up to St. Joseph Minnesota to spend a couple of days at St. Bendedict's Monastery/St. John's Abbey. I still get the curious eyebrow glance when I tell people this, but I'm ok with that. I've been repeating this escapade since January and I am growing more familiar with the daily rhythms of the monastic life and in turn, I find that I want to live as they live.

4:15 a.m. comes awfully early, but that is the time I need to wake up if I want to make morning prayer at the monastery. This morning, just like all the other times I've come up here, I was met by Sisiter Ceceila in the Sacred Heart Chapel and together we walked into morning prayer. Something was a little different once we entered, the place was packed! Where did all the sisters come from? And they were as spunky, enthusiastic, and alert as women in their mid-70's to late 90's could be. It wasn't until later did I understand the cause of growth. Summer time is here! I joked with Sister Cecelia that the sisters come out of the woodwork with the summer sun; with a wink and a laugh she fully agreed.

Prayer time with the sisters, I think, is my favorite part. Everyday these faithful saints welcome the new day by singing with word of God. When I was younger I used to think that hymns were dry and lifeless, void of color and vibrancy. My grandparents attended a traditional Lutheran church that sung hymns and had all their prayers printed out. I would dissect the service, looking for any aspect that might carry the possibility of spontaneity. Every week I was disappointed. Same words, same structure, same robes, same prayer, same, same, same. Ugh. As a random, impulsive, and highly emotional woman, such deeply embedded structure is often the death of me; and was just as true when I was a kid as it is now. However, 20 years later, the structure of the monastic life is no longer the death of me, rather it is the very element that causes my heart to burn with desire. I want to echo their rhythms, their practices, their faithfulness.

There may have been 50 or 60 sisters in prayer this morning. In sweet unison we opened our lips to the Lord with prayer and praise. Morning, midday, evening prayer always begin with a cry to God to welcome His Spirit and position our hearts.

"O Lord, open my lips and my mouth will proclaim your praise. "

I thought to myself, how do I begin my days? When I'm at the Monastery it opens with prayer, praise, community, and the sharing of a meal. When I am at home however, that's a different story. The first thought that enters my mind is not a request for my lips to be opened so that my mouth can praise Christ. No. My first thought is to brush away morning mouth and then open my lips to drink in gallons of bold, dark coffee. And maybe then will I begin thinking about the Glory of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit... maybe.

This is why I come up here. The monastic way is not confined to those who have devoted their lives to an order, in this case, the Benedictine order. Rather the monastic way is a treasure to be sought after by all those who follow after Christ. How can the rest of the Church embrace the gorgeous rhythms found within the monastic community? The Benedictine community understands God's call to be hospitable, to live a life of prayer, to share in community, and to meet the needs of others through humble service. My desire is to learn from their ways and invite others into the journey.

"Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit as it was in the beginning, is now, and every shall be, world without end, Amen."

One step, one day at a time.

2010-05-20T18:20:00.000-07:00

God never reveals the entirety of his plan. Abraham was only told to go and sacrifice his son, no further information was disclosed. David was told that he was going to become a great king, but I'm sure he had no idea how long it would take to get there. Moses was called to lead the masses out of their slavery and into liberation - did he anticipate the whole freaking sea to part into dry ground? Saul loses his sight, I highly doubt he was thinking; "No problem! In a few days I'll get my sight back and then I'll become the greatest apostle!" If I am going to be completely honest, I loathe the fact that this is how God rolls. Throw me a bone, Padre.

So what are we to do in the midst of the uncomfortable unknown? I could offer you a platter of cheesy responses, and some may even be theologically sound, however when restless confusion eats away at your bones and steals away hours of slumber; the traditional Jeremiah 29:11 dollap of encouragement fails miserably to bring encouragement. Commercial break: And who ever decided this was a good verse to slap on as a band-aid to our modern day blues ? I'm fairly certain the context in which it was spoken was never intended to be used for the sadness we hold over our neighbor's dead kitty. Sorry friends, Jeremiah had a particular audience in mind - and his life was the most depressing of any prophet I've ever read! His own words, given from God, didn't even bring consolation to his weeping! And we're back... 3-2-1. The truth of the matter is this - I don't really know what we are to do, if anything at all, when we find ourselves stuck on the spinny'est (is that a word) cart on this tilt-a-whirl ride otherwise known as life.

But here is what I do know. The Holy Spirit is present, everywhere. When our heads are hung low and our souls are downcast within us, Jesus joins us on the lonely road and listens to our confusion, our lost hopes, our pain, and our excrutiating doubt. He calls us out when we need it and hesitates none at all to say - "Hey you buttheads! (or, "fools"I don't think Luke had it in him to use the term, "butthead"), why are you so faithless? Here, let me show you once again the long scroll of my faithfulness." And at the appointed time, when our hearts are ready and the burning of our hearts cannot be explained, Jesus reveals himself. We see a little bit more, but just enough to give us what we need to continue our walk of abiding obedience.

I know myself well enough to know that if God did decide to show me 27 steps into my future, I'd grap the control ropes of the delapitated buggy I ride in and take off all on my own, leaving the Omniscient one chewing on the dust of my impulsiveness. We may devise magnificent plans for our lives, plans to glorify the Lord, to serve the church, to great and wonderful things in the name of Christ; but ultimately God determines our steps. Our lives are not about us. This is not about me (ugh, owie....). I have no clue what I'm doing or where I'm going. Though in the midst of this awkward tension I beg for humility and the strength required to say 'yes' to Christ, even when I cannot see the ram in the thicket, the dry ground to walk on, or the arc to keep me afloat.

Meaningless thoughts....

2010-05-01T11:34:00.001-07:00

Life can get pretty chaotic. Finals are creeping up on me, papers on theology, Pauline letters, and a ridiculously crazy man named Ezekiel are overwhelming my world; and finding time to pursue relationships take an undeserved back seat. However, in the midst of this funnel cloud of busyness I am ushered into the spacious world of artistic delights.

As I sit at Caribou Coffee literally sourrounded by 4 walls of books on Dietrich Bonhoeffer, I smile at the sight of these musty smelling dust covers and unchain my concentration to flow freely to the tunes of Mumford and Sons. Without warning my toes tap me into a different world. This world is free from deadlines and filled with the souls of late, great theologians inviting me into the history of Christian thought. But it is an invitation not to receive a grade or a stamp of intellectual approval (thank God too, for I'm an artist - not an intellectual) rather it is to experience, to drink in, and to be transformed by the brave thoughts and endevours of our great cloud of witnesses. My life is pretty fantastic. I love that I get to study theology. I love that I am emotionally connected to radical lyrics. And I love that I'm an artist who enjoys the fruits of those with intellectual giftings!

I wish you Enough

2010-04-30T17:02:00.000-07:00

I wish you enough. These are wise words my mom always sends me off with. For the longest time I never really grasped the significance behind her benediction, but as I grow in age, in my faith, in wisdom, and everything else that accrues with life experiences I see, vividly, the beauty of 'enough'.

My childhood was never extravagantly decorated with fancy clothes, the latest Schwinn, video games, or even cable tv. We weren't poor, at least not in comparison to the rest of the world - maybe in comparison to our neighbors; but we weren't rich either, far from it. My wardrobe was filled with hand-me-downs, Kmart blue light specials, and garage sale treasures. My hair styles were home perms and over-sized scrunchies. Forget Nike Air Jordan's, I wore $7 sneakers from Benjamin Franklin. Family vacations? Hardly. But we did take afternoon trips to Duluth every year or weekend get-a-ways at a family friend's cabin on Lake Milacs. Dinner time was usually goulash (how do you even spell that?!) toasty dogs, hamburger gravy, or Malt-O-Meal.

For the most part I was oblivious to our 'enough' lifestyle. In my rose-colored world we had it all; until middle school anyway - kids are mean in middle school and they spotlight everything ugly about you. My sisters and I were consumed with adventures of fort building, tree climbing, neighborhood bus stop games, bike rides to the local candy store, a garage that transformed into the raddest roller skating rink and a shed that wasn't just a shed full of gardening tools and wreaking of lawn mower gasoline. No it was our secret place, our fort of all forts. We were richer than everyone I knew.

Today, at 28 years old, I am a single woman living in the same world as when I was a kid. I am a woman with 'enough'. Every month I have no choice but to rely on God's provision. My wardrobe is still filled with hand-me-downs, thrift store goodies, and well used baseball t-shirts. Dinners are even less gourmet than when I was a kid (although I do wish I could spend loads of money on groceries... I absolutely love to cook!), now it is no more than grilled cheese, frozen veggies, or cereal. But my tummy is satisfied. I'm not a big name shopper, never have been and at the rate I'm going, I never will be. My humble apartment is donned with hand-made art, side of the road freebies, and gifts from my friends upstairs.

I do daydream at times, of what it would be like to have a million dollars. I wonder how liberating it would feel not to have to stress about the cost of school or if I can afford an oil change. Traveling to exotic places and seeing the world is an insatiable desire of mine, but I do not need to spend hundreds of dollars to enjoy beautiful places. The alley in my backyard is full of interesting people, I live in the center of a city that is adorned with gorgeous lakes, intoxicatingly beautiful parks, and unbelievable art. The truth is I have all that I need. Life is a matter of perspective, and mine is acutely familiar with that style of 'enough'.

April Poetry

2010-04-14T18:09:00.001-07:00

The month of April offers a bouquet of delicious new life and winter fades to a memory. The endless frozen blues that steal the breath from your mouth, hold hostage the snot in your nose, and drop black pearls from the painted eyelashes of every maiden finally thaw away. Verde’s budding hope merrily springs forth ushering in the song of the morning dove, chickadee, and cardinal. If these feathery friends were a band they would be Dave Matthews, for no other artist can drop the jaws of enthusiasts by shredding the strings of their guitars. Heavy sweaters are folded into storage, revealing the handles of love resting on the waist of every Midwesterner. But these billowy physical effects of winter are no secret to the city of Lakes, it offers a remedy to the muffin top of cabin fever by paving miles of winding trails and organizing preventative action through running and biking communities.

10 extra pounds and smiling daffodils aren’t the only new guests at April’s banqueting table. Poets gather together and indulge their creativity by feasting upon their charming winter labors. It is, rightly so, National Poetry month and I am celebrating tonight by listening to the words of Minnesota’s finest poets at BirchBark Books in Minneapolis. I adore being read to. There is something disarming about releasing my agenda into the spacious pasture of literature

Summer plans in the making

2010-04-13T06:55:00.000-07:00

David Gray and Ray Lamontagne touring together this summer. I'm fairly certain I will rearrange my entire life to see this show.

Maundy Thursday Reflections

2010-04-01T20:30:00.000-07:00

Every Maundy Thursday I celebrate the Holy Day in quiet reflection. It is most generally a celebration of one, and that is the way I plan it. And for the past 8 years (excluding the two I lived in California) my choice service is at Bethlehem Baptist Church in downtown Minneapolis. This year it was no different.

The sanctuary was packed to the walls. People groups of every generation, ethnicity, class, and each carrying a story all their own were represented not as segregated clusters, but as one community. You could taste the sweetness of the Spirit in the room, and in the aroma of his presence I could not help but pause time and time again at the sight before me. I thought of the Apostle Paul while I sat in my quiet space at the end of the balcony pew... Parenthetical comment... I can always be found in the balcony when the introverted, introspective, and contemplative side of myself takes over. Paul passionately journeyed from church to church urging them to live as a unified body of Christ. In his culture it was common to find people, Christians included, dividing their pledges of devotion and splitting over the smallest of disagreements; which is not entirely unlike today, but I'll save that for another post. I wondered what Paul would have thought if he had been a part of tonight's worship service. Would he exhort his tender love for the Church of Minneapolis? My soul was overwhelmed within me to have a seat among Christ's chosen Beloved and I do not doubt for a moment that Paul would say to Bethlehem - "I have not stopped praying and giving thanks for you."

When the first song of worship ignited, my heart was gripped by the loving hands of the Holy God. There was a sacred presence in the place, a power infused in every note harmoniously shouted, and a disarming invitation wrapped in the holy contrition of the communion of saints. I thought my entire being was going to explode. I was utterly undone by the beauty of it all. Hundreds of saints under one roof, singing together with one voice - my cheeks were a slope of draining tears collecting in the pools of my smiling lips. This is what the heavenly hosts who cry "Holy Holy Holy" must sound like.

Even greater still was the institution of communion. I am one who adheres to the theology that this meal is more than mere symbolism. The Eucharist is sacred and filled with the grace of Christ. Since I can remember I've never not cried during communion. There is something distinctly tender about witnessing broken people coming to the table to receive the redeeming love of Christ through the Eucharist. I like to watch the old couples walk up together hand in hand. The dad bending over to help his young son take the broken bread is one of the most breathtaking sights to behold. And the teenagers filled with contagious vitality for life drinking of the cup, produce within a desire to embrace and encourage them to continue the journey of following after the love of Christ, no matter the cost. Tonight was yet another opportunity to consider the joy found in the meal of Thanksgiving and reflect on the body of Christ that was - just as the elements - first blessed, then broken, then given for all to receive.

As I sit here now, yearning to live the Maundy Thursday service all over again, I try to cling to the last fleeting minutes of this day. 50 more to go before we are ushered into Good Friday and I am filled with reverence as I replay the words of tonight's hymns and bow in humility in experiencing once again the story of what this day represents....

good news for the day

2010-03-22T07:52:00.000-07:00

my heart still remains in mourning over the loss of nathan.... but today's sports headline certainly lifts me out - it's going to be a fantastic season, i can smell it!

Photo Essay

2010-03-16T17:11:00.000-07:00

Schooled by the Liturgical Year

2010-03-16T06:41:00.000-07:00

I thought I had a relatively clear understanding to the markings of the liturgical calendar, but that notion was demolished when I asked my dear sisters at St. Ben's to share with me the journey they follow each month

throughout the year. The converstaion began with my ignorant lips; "So you follow Advend, Lent..." and before I could get any further Sister Rita interrupted to fill in the blanks I had already missed. Thank goodness too, because after those two liturgical whoppers I'm not quite sure what comes next.

Sister Rita began the long stream of explanation while Sister Cecelia stepped towards the bookshelf to find something that could offer a visual picture to my pool of curiosities. Sister Rita informed me that in between the well known liturgical seasons there lies a fountain of other important dates. This is when Sister Cecelia opened up her choice book and shed light into the dark corners of misunderstanding. Before my eyes was a scroll of celebrations and Sunday's, ordinary times and feasts; which apparently can replace a Sunday. Each day, each Sunday is something worthy of intentional focus. I choked with amazement towards their disciplines.

What is it like to follow so intimately the journey's of Jesus through these seasons? Every week is embraced through prearranged and deliberate illuminations of scripture. It seems as though everything is carefully considered and lived out with a penetrating reverence. While Rita and Cecelia exposed the emotions and process of thought that run from their heart out their lips of praise, I ached with desire to walk out my days in a similar fashion to these faithful sisters. Truly there is something sacred embedded in a life that is structured according to the liturgical calendar and I have hardly broken the surface. In a few moments I will make my way from the Monastery to the Abbey at St. John's and I wonder how, if at all, the mobility of the Monks differs from that of the Sisters.

the not-so-vanilla spiritual director

2010-03-15T13:47:00.000-07:00

There is a protruding facet of reason that poses the question, “What am I thinking?" Those who generally take on monastic practices; namely fasting, silence, solitude, prayer all seem to carry a common personality, and the colors of my dna makeup are without that thread. It’s like this; I went to visit a place outside Minneapolis that trains up Spiritual Directors. The purpose of my visit was to discern whether or not it could be the location to my life after undergrad. In no time at all I realized that it is not for me - and I became certain of that by a wave of nausea that nearly knocked me off my feet the moment I walked in the door. The center was lovely and the faithful employees were stunning. Truly it was a community of passionate followers of Christ who are eager to tap into the movement of the Holy Spirit. I have nothing of negativity to say about the place.

But my restlessness is born from a place similar to Pluto. Pluto has always been, in my opinion, the strange planet. Mars is like pop music, if Casey Kasem were to live on a planet it would be Mars; everyone knows the mainstream tune that flows off its craters. Does Mars even have craters? Then there is Venus. Venus is like the sexy planet. Only people like Heidi Klum or Jennifer Aniston can exist on Venus. Then there is Jupiter. This is the planet where all the ridiculously smart scientists hang out and talk about everything sciencey. The mere thought of it makes my brain hurt. I don’t even know what other planets float around in our solar system (thus I do not belong on Jupiter) but there still remains Pluto. I am convinced this would be the place for the people other people consider “different”. Artists, winos, poets, romantics, simplistics and loners – unite together under the Plutonic (not Platonic) zip code with our bare feet and tattoos and pass the doobie of eccentricities.

The place of Spiritual Formation that I had visited was for the beautiful souls that keep cuss words out of their vocabulary. It had a certain feeling to it, like the feeling you get when you walk into a super churchy person’s house with your clothes reeking of last night’s stogie and lips stained with alcohol from the microphone at Jack’s karaoke bar. I’m a karaoke junkie and I like to smoke cheap stogies, but I am intoxicated by the love of Christ more frequently than by a bottle of 3 buck Chuck. And so the question arises again; “What am I thinking? I’m not the usual softly fashioned, daintily formed Spiritual Director. I will not have Thomas Kinkade decorating my future office, nor will I have ruffly curtains and doilies. I will not use a mouse church voice that cowers when released. What I will have is who I am. My office will probably have gnarly photography with some raw honest Rembrandt, it will more than likely smell of sandalwood and lilac, and I will not (this is my promise to you) back down from saying, “I have no freaking clue what the Spirit’s doing, but dude let’s kick back and listen together.”

Silenced breakfast

2010-03-15T06:37:00.001-07:00

I return once again to St. Benedict's Monastery. It has been eight weeks since my last visit and there is a fresh yet sober atmosphere welcoming my arrival. I say fresh because spring is just around the corner. The birds that decorate the grounds of the monastery are wild with song and vigor. Their music spreads through the campus and contribute sweet melodies to the strong, deep tolls of the chapel bells. The sober facet is tightly tethered to the Lenten season Throughout the liturgical year meal times are alive with conversation, during the Lenten season however meals are taken in silence. This is to encourage the sisters to pause from the chattering norm and instead reflect upon the journey to the Cross.

It was a bizarre experience I have to admit, sharing a meal in silence. I grew up in a family of 6 and the dinner table was not just a place to set your plate; but a stage to unleash your imagination. The walls would shake before our laughter and the engery soared when mom would pass the jar of her ridicoulously amazing chocolate chip cookies. It is no wonder why eating in silence this morning was uncomfortably unnatural.

This intentional silence is a gorgeous thing however. I continue to return to the monastery (and tomorrow I will be spending the day at St. John's Abbey) because I firmly believe that the rhythms by which the Monastics adhere to have significant wisdom and rich blessings to offer the Protestant community. My desire is to release myself from the piles of religious conditionings that confine the mystery of the Holy Spirit and in turn receive the gift of monastic cadance.

Overshadowing Cheap Grace

2010-03-11T17:32:00.000-08:00

When I share with people the deep fondness I carry towards the Lenten season, it never fails that I am met with awkwardly curious expressions. Perplexed eyebrows are raised leading to a stream of rushing inquisitions. "Are you Catholic?" Nope. "Are you Lutheran?" Nope, not Lutheran either. "Why then do you like Lent so much?" Ah, sweet honey to my lips is such a question.

I suppose it may be rather odd that I choose to adhere the liturgical calendar when my church communit y does not. But we all have our peculiarities and this one of mine is an unexplainable love for a shredded veil. So what is it exactly? What sets these 40 days apart from the other 325? Simple, an invitation. The Lenten season is for us, a sweetly tender opportunity to examine our hearts. It is a beckoning to walk with Christ during his last 40 days on earth and to not just remember - but cry out in mercy and crumble in gratitude, humility, and reverence before the passion expressed on Calvary's tree.

It is easy for Christians (perhaps singling out American middle/upper class Christians???) to trample around in the over sized clowns shoes of cheap grace and promenade ourselves in the false bouffant assumption that the grace of God liberates us to live according to our desires. Whatever tastes good, smells good and feels good ought to be ours. And if it is a questionable desire don't worry about it; God's grace is sufficient enough so go ahead and indulge. Day in and day out we whore around like addicts of worldly pleasures without regard to the gnashing repercussions, because when we sit in our comfortable lazy-boy pews on Sunday mornings we are spoon fed cheap grace. Grace does not permit prostituted actions.

With each day of Lent I fall deeper into love with the penitential psalms. I think Psalm 51 might be my favorite of the 7. This poetic cry of David's is a vibrant expression of confession and repentance that is painted from a healthy understanding of his transgressions. What is so lovely about the psalmist is that he mourned over his sin. When do we ever take the time to cry over the chasm of sin we have dug? And really, should not crying out for mercy be our immediate reaction towards sin. Like gasping for air when the wind is knocked out of us, so too our plea for mercy when standing face to face with iniquity. I despise the way my sin separates me from the redeemer and so I cry. Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love.

What's the Point?

2010-03-08T14:57:00.000-08:00

What's the point? Is anything that we do truly purposeful? Recently I've been walking around in the discomfort of vomiting cultural norms while panting for the ways of Jesus. I attend Bethel University. If it were not for grants and financial aid I would be dropping $30,000 a year to be learn about theology. Although I am intoxicated over the fact that I get to unfold what it means to trust Christ by way of paved paths from the brilliant minds of generations past; Calvin, Schleiermacher, Luther, Baur...I cannot help but counter such a blessing with deeper ponderings.

Why are we studying about the issues of injustice while comfortably confined to our upper-middle class cookie-cutter institution? Why am I wrestling with doctrines and the infallibility of scripture rather than putting legs to the words of God? Why is the main goal among Christians to find a good Christian partner, buy a fancy diamond ring, finance a fancier house and produce 2.4 perfect Christian babies? The Christian dream is the American dream. At the end of the day I truly believe that God is not going to ask me, "Brianna - what are the 5 points of Calvin?" How does my ability (or inability) to articulate TULIP feed the stomachs of the poor or wrap loving arms around the hurting?

I think often of my friends at El Refugio and in doing so I ache to return to them. El Refugio is, you guessed it, a refuge for the homeless elderly of Tijuana Mexico. During my time in

California I would frequently spend long days visiting the beautiful souls at El Refugio. We would cook breakfast together, laugh, try to communicate through our language barrier, and enjoy each other's presence. It was a community that had no choice but to rely on God.

I've witnessed miracles at El Refugio truly.

Rather than multiplying fish, God faithfully multiplied eggs, ham, bread, and oranges. No one ever went unfed and this

unexplainable truth can only be attributed to the blessing of Christ. My friends at this sacred place never asked questions of theology and I never felt the need to impress them with a lengthy string of paper doll vocabulary.

Afternoons were spent taking silly photographs (photography is the avenue God made for communication - it was lovely), playing hide and seek in the hanging laundry, dancing, and soaking in the warm Tijuana sunshine. This was all we needed and we were fully satisfied.

I hope I am not portraying cynicism. Because that is not my aim nor is it how I feel. It's just that I carry a lot of questions about complacent conditioning's and sometimes they keep me awake at night. How do our conditioning's meet the greatest commandments? What am I doing, right now to obey the command to love? I'm fairly certain blogging to an abysmal void ceases to fill the empty arms of the marginal dwellers. How can I live in the affluence of the states and simultaneously run the legs I hope to put on scripture?

Soiled diapers

2010-02-25T16:41:00.000-08:00

Unconfessed sin is like a poopy diaper. Really, it is. A diaper is worn underneath a layer of clothing (generally speaking of course, unless your like my nieces and nephews who wildly prefer running around without any pants) you cannot see the diaper, it is hidden. When worn appropriately the diaper exists rather unobtrusively. But dude, once that giant cotton ball is polluted the poor kid wearing the soiled mess is miserable and everyone within a 50 mile radius is painfully effected by the sulfuric toxins. Similarily this is exactly how sin operates. We can keep it covered by a layer of decorative cleanlines but we can feel its slimy presence and, guess what? Everyone around you has to bear the detrament of your debris. Take heart dirty one! If you are brave enough to cry out and acknowledge you sinful diaper, the cleansing sweetness of wet wipes will come to your rescue. I digress...

The greatest reality of sin that we so often fail to understand is that our sinful nature affects others. I believe that is one of Satan's greatest successes. Along with his ruthless army he has deceived our minds in such a way that we think our sin is just that - ours. Paul refutes this horrific misconception in his letter to the church of Corinth.

"Don't you know that a little yeast works through the whole batch of dough? Get rid of the old yeast that you may be a new batch withouth yeast-as you really are." - 1 Cor. 5:6-7

This admonition is evidence to the truth that we are not created to live individualistically. Although, is this not the very way of our generation? It is of little wonder why we walk around blindly deceived that we are our own and whatever choices we make or do not make fails to impress upon the lives of others. Oh friends how I pray that the scales fall from your eyes so that you may see your communal existence!

So what are we to do with our heavy diapers? Keeping in rhythm with the Lenten season may I draw your attention to the second penitential psalm? Check out the poetic words of Psalm 32 (I have referred to this psalm many times in previous posts, I'm partial to its beauty).

"When I kept silent my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long. For day and night your hand was heavy upon me; my strength was sapped as in the heat of summer. Then I acknowledged my sin to you and did not cover up my iniquity. I said, "I will confess my transgressions to the LORD..."

We acknowledge our sin, we tell those around us, "I know you smell me and I am so sorry for that. I reak of lust, greed, gossip, lying, pornography, false identites, worry, fear... I am a broken mess in need of grace." And in our courageous confession we can be confident of the forgiveness promised to us.

"... And you FORGAVE the guilt of my sin."

Lenten Breath Prayer

2010-02-24T06:05:00.000-08:00

Garden State is one of my all time favorite films. I have watched it countless times and every time I plug it in I receive something new. Andrew Largeman is the main character and he delivers an epic performance; offering scenes that every viewer is able to resonate with. The movie opens with a dream where Largeman is sitting apathetically on a crashing plane. Everyone around him is frantic, crying and screaming, and clinging for salvation. All the while Largeman remains detached from the chaos. This scene poses the question; "How often do we play the role of the crazed passengers - sick with worry and driven by the fear of our surrounding circumstances? How long have we been walking around like detached zombies consumed with apathy?"

During the Lenten season I am practicing different prayer postures everyday. The first week of the season draws to a close today, ushering in the freshness of a new one and already I can see a theme weaving in and around my prayers. A tiny golden thread of rest is slowly going around my fragmented thoughts and quietly wrapping them in an aglet of trust. And this is the severe mercy of Christ, for you see, I am a woman with way too many interests. My role is more often the unraveled voyager opposed to the detached apathetic. Rarely do I pay attention to the destination, rather I intoxicate myself with the honey of possibilities embedded in each new day. What inevitably ends up happening in my drunken stooper of newness is that I quickly lose sight of my original focus and, like a wandering child distracted by a bouquet of colorful balloons, I begin running after the vibrant array of floating balloons; forgetting completely what I was initially pursuing. "Tra-la-la... Ooo pretty!" is my life motto. Very truly I need that aglet to bind me to the one thing that keeps my soul attuned.

"Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable - if anything is excellent or praiseworthy - thing about such things." - Phillipians 4:8

I think that both Christ and Paul knew of our great need to practice the search for the sound of silence. Paul tells us to "Pray without ceasing." Take a look throughout his letters, you will see time and time again the command for us to pray, to give thanks, to intercede, to meditate on whatever is true, noble, right, pure, lovely and admirable. Do we take the time to do this? Jesus was found escaping the crowds to enter into a quiet place and be with his Father. He commands us to pray where the only person that can see and hear us is our Father in Heaven.

To be a Christian is to be Christ-like, to be a disciple is to follow in the same rhythms as our Rabbi. Why is it that we walk this reflected way only when it promises the spotlight? We love the large crowds, the excitement of dangerous missions, flapping our tongues on street corners and shredding the 6 string on stage. But what about the thing that does not promise large crowds? What about that which does not stamp our passport of missionary journeys? What about the position of listening? How come we can replicate the ways in which our Rabbi teaches on a mountain but we fail miserable to draw away to a quiet place?

It is of little wonder why we are frazzled and detached. So how then, do we turn and take the first step towards silence? Beautiful question. I think one of the best places to begin is with a prayer called "Breath Prayer". It can be hard, as addicts of speed and noise, to start with carving out 15 minutes of silence; that is why I think breath prayer is the greatest starting block. It is an intentionality you can take with you wherever you are and wherever you are going. Furthermore it is a way for us to live out Paul's encouragement for us to "Pray without ceasing". Bet you never thought it was possible to accomplish huh? Well, it is! Prayer, in its purest essence, is a position of heart.

Breath Prayer is an exercise that exists organically. When we breathe, we do not think about the art of the process, we do it naturally without thought. Inhale.... Exhale... Inhale... Exhale... It occurs on its own, we do not have to will ourselves to do it. Breath Prayer follows the naturality of our breaths and couples it with intentional truths. One of the greatest prayers to incorporate into the patterns breathing is the Jesus Prayer;

"Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me, a sinner."

Inhale and think on the words; "Jesus, son of David... "

Exhale the last part of the prayer; "Have mercy on me a sinner."

Another prayer of truth aids in the security of our identity.

Inhale - "Abba".

Exhale - "I belong to you".

Abba.... I belong to you.... whether you are a frantic, disheveled wanderer or a numb careless clinging to the identity of your belovedness will reignite and steady your soul. This is the journey of Lent. A voyage towards perfect unity with our Savior and it is only through the practice of prayer that our cold hearts can be melted by the voice of Love.

Lenten blurbs

2010-02-17T17:54:00.000-08:00

Today marks the beginning of a 40 day journey to the cross. Ash Wednesday is personally one of my very favorite days of the Liturgical calendar, for it ignites the season of Lent that I am utterly enthralled by. I cannot articulate why exactly, the Lenten season carries with it a tenderly powerful force that melts my soul; but since I began walking with Jesus it has never failed to touch the deepest parts of my heart in a way that no other season can do. Perhaps it is the rawness of the 40 days that disarms me, perhaps it is the opportunity provided to think with deep intention of my great need for a Savior amidst the dripping crimson, or maybe it is the fact that as I enter the throne room of grace with a heart of repentance and contrition, the pathway for the Holy Spirit is made straight and I therefore become the unworthy receiver's of His insurmountable mercy. Yes, it is each of these things that draw forth an abyss of unfathomable delight as I meditate upon the redeeming journey to the Cross.

Every year I take great joy in highlighting a different posture of worship to guide the season. As I've matured in my faith, so too have my postions of praise - but every year I fast from sweets. This is the big cahouna for I have a ridiculous sweet tooth that, when unleashed, knows no boundaries. This year I will embrace in daily prayer practices; be it Lectio Divina, Confession, Centering Prayer, Meditation, Intecession or Liturgy of the hours. I am expectant and hopeful to meet with Christ through these ancient practices designed by our origianal desert fathers and mothers.

Additionally I will write brief insights about these practices that aimed to open our hearts and minds to the movement of the Holy Spirit and include highlighted posts centered around the 7 Penitential Psalms of the Lenten Season. It is my prayer that this season marks your life with a transformative recognition to the weight of the Cross bore for our sins. May God bless your journey and by his severe mercy draw you closer to his side.

Another curiosity...

2010-02-12T18:10:00.000-08:00

Why not add to the inquisitions of my previous post, goodness knows there are so many more...

Here it is: Was Paul filled with a "different" Spirit than the Spirit we are filled with today? (I use the term "different" very loosely...)

"God did extraordinary miracles through Paul, so that even handkerchiefs and aprons that had touched him were taken to the sick, and their illnesses were cured and the evil spirits left them." - Acts 19:11-12

Later on in scripture I read that Paul commanded healing in a broken individual. Why do we not command such things? Rather we are more apt to pray that God would release a person from spiritual possession. Why is it that Paul commanded - unapologetically and confidently, and we cower away consumed by doubt?

Both/And

2010-02-11T12:53:00.001-08:00

"For HE chose us in him before the creation of the world

to be holy and blameless in his sight. " ~ Ephesians 1:4

Here are some things that I don't understand and things that I question:

- Why is merging onto the freeway such a difficult task for people?

- When will the Cubbies win the series?

- What about dinosaurs?

- Do I, a student of Theology, have to pledge my allegiance to one theologian?

- Were Adam and Eve created with total objectivity?

- Why do men think Bod/Tag/etc is a good choice of cologne?

- How come strange hair appears in places it shouldn't be as you age?

- Why do zits have to be a reality?

- What produces laughter?

It is my nature to marinate in the inquisitions born of this world we live in. I do not believe that we were created to walk around as robots, going to and fro with no consideration to the peculiar things that purposely entertain our journey; rather I think it is a gorgeous blessing to question. If you ever have had the opportunity to spend time, any amount of time, with a child, what you notice with comical immediacy is the explosive energy contained in a mind filled with wonder. Everything that a child sees is something brand new. Balloons and kites become the ground for future pilots. The bubbled throat of a toad ignite budding zoologists. Mommy's pregnant belly is the greatest intrigue that ushers in a new generation of obstetricians. We are born to question, to wonder, to seek and to know.

But as we are born to know, so too we are to unable to understand it all. Our minds are finite organs crippled under the glorious weight of mystery. Reason can only take us so far. We may be able to survive on logic for a while, but eventually we will collide with a force far greater than ourselves that catapults our ability to formulate structured answers. Now, with this in mind; here are some heavier curiosities the parade around my mind.

- Are some people created for heaven while others are damned to hell?

- Was there something that sparked Satan's initial fall?

- Is God all sovereign?

- Can our prayers change the mind of God?

- Is everything predestined?

The ways in which I approach these questions shed light onto my understanding (or lack there of) of who God is. Let me first admit that I am not obsessed with discovering the answers - I am not driven by an uncontainable need to have it all figured out. I approach these questions humbly, ignorantly and longing not to know more about God, but rather to know God more. In this I am disarmed by the scriptures that, in some mysterious way, reveal that the answers to the predominately divisive theologies cease miserably to be either/or responses. Contrastingly so they exist as both/and - which highlight the need to bow before mystery.

When I bring into question the theology of predestination I am occupied by John 3:16 - that Christ came to save the world, and then I am distracted by Ephesians 1:4-5 - that He chose us before the creation of the world and in love he predestined us to be his hons. As I muse over the sovereignty of God I am blinded by the truth of Proverbs 16 - that although I may have plans for my life, ultimately it is God that determines the steps. But what about the renouned story of Moses in Exodus 32? God had plans to destroy the people he had brought up out of Egypt but Moses interceded and pleaded with God to relent; God changed his mind and spared the lives of his people. See what I mean? Both/And.

This is the God that I serve. I do not understand Him yet I seek. I trust in his sovereignty yet I plead. I am curious yet I know when to be silent. Though Tag body spray will continue to pollute the hallways of high schools around the nation, and really old people will get their lisences renewed (this too is a mystery to me....) when they should have been revoked decades ago - the God of all creation will remain. He is sovereign and listens to our cries, He saves and relents. He is the one who was and is and is to come.

Snot Rocket Confessions

2010-02-03T14:44:00.000-08:00

All winter long I've been running outside. This wasn't my first choice mind you, for i did buy a treadmill in effort to stay far, far away from the bitter winds of Minnesota. However, I failed to keep in mind that Craig's List is dodgy and you can never be sure of the quality of things. My treadmill teased me in that he faithfully provided a relatively stable foundation and seamless rotating belt. Just when my confidence in my Craig's List purchase was beginning to gleam, reality came crushing down on me - literally. When I started to break a sweat on treadmill experience #4, the entire foundation cracked and the metal monster folded his sleazy hands around my body and I was crushed under his merciless grip. In other words, the pile of dilapidated shit collapsed on me. It now sits as a clothes rack in my bedroom.

But running outdoors in the dead of winter isn't all bad. True, I'd rather be skipping along the historic 101 coastal highway like I was so fond of doing while I lived in California, but the crisp air and glittery falling flakes that dress the bare branches of oak have an endearing quality all their own. In addition to the postcard settings I run through, my body portrays its own works of art that demand a good laugh. Before the first mile passes, my eyelashes become strands of icy crystals and the once dry fluffy curls ontop of my head flatten and the combination of icy sweat and wet, heavy falling snow bombs transform into one giant matted dreadlock. My legs slowly turn from warm ivory sculptures flowing with toasty body heat to flaming red posts filled with winterized molasses. And the most attractive feature of all - the dripping snot faucet on my face, formally recognized as the nose.

I've never attempted to shoot a snot rocket, farmer's blow or boogery bullet - that is, until last week. It was during mile 5 when my gloves were so covered with sweat and snot and my throat was coated with loogies (sorry to be so graphic, but this is the tragic reality of being a Minnesotan runner) that I gave in and made the decision to commence my first ever attempt at blowing a farmer's snotty rocket of boogery goo. With wavering confidence in my ability to blow successfully, I closed nostril #1 and with all full concentration turned the facuet to full blast.... I'll skip ahead and tell you that I failed miserably. I ran the next block with a string of yellow nastyness teathered to my nose, which then inevitabley wrapped its sticky fingers around my jacket and rosy cheeks. It was disgusting, but I had to do it.

After laughing to myself I got to thinking. This snot rocket practice is a lot like confession. Stay with me here, I know my thought processes are as entangled and outrageous as a toddlers hair-do after an afternoon nap, but don't give up on me just yet. The fact of the matter is my nose was maxed out with ugliness and it was absolutely necessary to clean out so that I was liberated to once again, breathe with ease. This is not unlike the need to confess our sinful brokenness God, and to one another. There are countless references in scripture that encouragingly command that we confess and repent from every stumbling block that keeps us from Christ. I love the words of David in his 32'nd Psalm;

"When I kept silent my bones wasted away"

David is expressing that in our silence, when we refuse to give voice to the corrupt strongholds in our life, we literally grow sick; our bones waste away and we are left with a strength that has been sapped by the heat of summer. In our refusal to confess we remain in bondage to the deceitful grip of sin. Are you still with me? Just to solidify my awkward efforts at connecting the twisted dots I will highlight further truths that encourage confession and the redemption that comes from courageously exposing our trash.

"But if they will confess their sins and the sins of their fathers - their treachery against me and their hostility toward me.... when their uncirmcumcised hearts are humbled and they pay for their sins, I will remember my convenant with Abraham..." ~ Leviticus 26:40-42

"Wash away all my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin... The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit and a contrite heart." ~ Psalm 51:2, 17

"Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed." ~ James 5:16

"In the desert prepare the way for the LORD make straight in the wilderness a highway for our God." ~ Isaiah 40:3

Over and over we see in scripture the life that comes from confessing our sins. I know that this sacred act of worship is not an easy task. To be certain it will be painful, but is it not worth the temporary pain when wholeness is its reward? Additionally it will be awkward, clumsy, horribly uncomfortable and, above all, it will require every ounce of bravery and courage; for when we dare to expose our brokeness we are ultimately risking the love and acceptance our friends and loved ones (not of Christ however, let the reader understand with full comprehension, that only Christ's love is unfailing). You will, I can assure you, fail to blow a perfect stream of snotty quagulation the first time you confess. But it is so much better to get it out and create a space to breathe.

Let us cling to the unfailing hope of the Spirit-filled words of scripture and boldly practice catapulting loogies of mass destruction and rid ourselves of the sins that suffocate in order that we may make straight a highway for our God.

"If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us form all unrighteousness." ~ 1 John 1:9

26.2

2010-02-03T07:59:00.001-08:00

Blisters, Sweat, Blood, Chaffing (awkward), Tendonitis, Shot blocks, More sweat and blood..... Gotta love the life of a runner. Dear Twin Cities Marathon, it will be rad pounding your paved paths once again! Mark your calendars friends - Sunday, October 3 is race day!!!!

Itchy tu-tu's and a quiet Spirit

2010-01-29T11:29:00.000-08:00

"Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry."

~ James 1:19

For whatever reason I've been bombarded with the temptation to believe that I need to be more exciting and contagiously extroverted. By nature I am a listener, an internal processor and a molasses style observer to this tilt-a-whirl called life; but I'm thinking of undressing myself from these traits with the same immediacy that I tear off my running gear after a 10 mile'er in late August. The bright pink fluffy tu-tu of charming wit is far more appealing that my torn blue jeans of simplicity - and that sexy scarlet lipstick of whimsical story-telling is intoxicatingly entertaining compared to the matte chapstick of deep and intimate conversations.

A couple days ago I had a job interview and had asked some of my closest friends to be in prayer for the interview. Their gorgeous responses didn't touch me right away, rather it took a couple of hours before I recognized the weight of truth behind each of their words and how, without any amount of consiousness, they spoke directly into my aforementioned temptation. Each of these amazing life-long companions of mine encouraged me with the counsel: "Be your beautiful self!" I don't need to be more exciting to win the love of others, so where did this outrageous temptation to blabber party confetti every time I open my mouth?

James tells us that we ought to be slow to speak. I just finished listening to a podcast by Pastor Francis Chan; pastor of Conerstone Church in Simi Valley, CA; that encompasses this rhythm of patient proclamations. The sermon was equally convicting and encouraging. To what level of arrogance to I come before the throneroom of God and spout off my needs like an obnoxious sprinkler drowning the sound of the gentle breeze? Chan poignantly highlights the fact that in heaven there is no space, no need for the repetitious palaver we parade around in here on earth. The only words that echoe off the emerald rainbow encircling the throne of the Lamb are as simple as this:

"Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was, and is, and is to come."

~ Revelation 4:8

Day and night John tells us, these words from the four living creatures continuously give glory to Him who sits upon the throne. Over and over and over. No styrophome worship, just authentic reverance. If God does not care for bellowing lists of entertainment then why do I allow myself to think I need to alert others of my presence by flapping my jaws? Can I dare to believe that I am enough in my quiet, "slow to speak" ways? After all, tu-tu's are itchy and red lipstick ends up on your teeth. I'll keep my blue jeans and dwell in the encouragement of my friends to be my beautiful self while charging the throneroom of grace with silence.

Hey Sister Soul Sister

2010-01-15T15:54:00.000-08:00

At 5:30 this morning I hustled out to my car, hot mug of coffee in hand and a soul filled with anticipation to spend the day with the sisters at St. Benedict Monastery. As usual I was crunched for time, but can you blame me? I mean, who really likes to hear the piercing screams of a 4:15 a.m. wake up call? When your REM is rudely interrupted by the blaring honk of the clock, five minutes of snooze are as sweet as a Ben & Jerry's ice cream sundae piled with heath, butterfinger and smothered in peanut butter. But those sinful snoozes wreaked havoc on my not so tranquil morning drive. I hardly made it out of the alley before the boiling boldness of Costa Rica's finest blend of coffee beans decided to jump ship and cannon ball all over my pants.

"F*ck dudesie." slipped from my lips...."

"Damn it I forgot I gave up swearing." bashfully trailed behind like Linus' tattered blanket. What a disheveled way to commence a day of rest at a Benedictine monastery. But my enthusiasm refused to be curbed by such minor inconveniences. Who needs a cup of perfectly brewed, well balanced coffee at pre-dawn anyway?

One hour and twenty minutes later I found myself in St. Joseph. The arms of dawn hadn't even stretched themselves yet, the town remain in peaceful dreams. To the right I could faintly make out the black iron gates of St. Benedict's Monastery, they were unlocked and opened wide to welcome in weary pilgrims. I was a pilgrim, but not your traditional pilgrim. Rather than trekking hundreds of miles for months over dusty terrain on my bare feet, I was cozied in a Mazda traveling 70 mph for a lousy 80 minutes (let the reader note the magnitude of my distress and recall that I was, in fact, up before dawn AND without coffee... ). Nonetheless, I was a pilgrim.

I was to meet Sister Cecelia at the front doors of the Gathering Place at 6:50 a.m. and from there we were to attend morning prayer together at the Oratory. Over the phone Sister Cecelia's voiced dripped with gentle beads of hospitality, so it surprised me none at all to see her small shadow framed by the towering doorway to the Gathering Place. I smiled to myself as she watched me walk to greet her... this was going to be a great day.

"This must be Ms. Brianna.", her voice was like that of a thousand heavenly saints. "Good morning Sister Cecelia. It's lovely to meet you." I whispered in response. Sister Cecelia stood at most, to my shoulders and looked up at me with bright smiling eyes. "We are so glad that you are here. Are you ready for prayer?"... Sister you have no idea...

We walked in silence to the Oratory to celebrate the Liturgy of the Hours. I think I was expecting to see a barrages of black veils and turtlenecks (otherwise known as habits) because I was a little taken a back to see but a single sister adorned in the traditional habit. But her habit wasn't even black, it was all white. Sister Cecelia led me to the center of the pews and there we sat with dozens of faithful saints in complete silence. Each of the ladies looked identical. Short in stature, simple gray hair, no make-up, long skirts or slacks and beautifully aged hands worn by years of devoted service. Just then I was hit by a comical reality. What must I have looked like bouncing into this community? I towered over each of the sisters by a good six inches with my blue jeans, vibrant magenta shirt, sparkly flowered scarf and long blond curls. Why were the words; "Your beauty should not come from outward adornment such as braided hair and gold jewelry..." blinking like a gaudy fluorescent light outside a grungy tavern? Maybe I should have opted for a pony tail?

Morning prayer quietly ignited at 7:00 a.m. by the soft tune of a gong. It was a radiantly melodious display of humility, contrition and praise. In unison we sang through four Old Testament psalms and communally recited the Lord's Prayer. I aped the motions of Sister Cecelia in the traditional Catholic gestures I was so ignorant of.

After prayer we went to breakfast. What a treat! Just like at camp you grabbed a plastic tray, utensils and eased your way down the line of tasty choices. I laughed when I saw Fruity Pebbles and Corn Pops... nuns eat Corn Pops? I settled for oatmeal and a banana and, of course, a cup of coffee. All the while Sister Cecelia was describing each and every option I could choose from in great detail, encouraging me to take as much as my heart desired. Multiple times she asked me whether or not I wanted anything on my oatmeal. The first time I passed her offer, but the second time I said that I noticed there was a bowl of peanut butter and maybe I'd like some of that. She winked and we walked back up to the line for some pb. I figured I ought to expose my garbage and confess my ridiculous addition to peanut butter. She laughed and thought it was the craziest thing to put pb on your oatmeal. I'll save telling her of my other addictions, namely gum, for later.

Breakfast was filled with conversation, the exchanging of stories and an outlandish amount of joyful introductions. I met dozens of sisters (all who looked the same - so remembering names was completely out of the question) and listened adoringly at the way Sister Cecelia introduced me. "This is Brianna. She does photography and youth ministry and lived in California and now she is studying Theology and English at Bethel and wanted to join us for the day to see what we're all about. But when I talked with her on the phone and asked her if she wanted to visit for a day, a week or a month - she said all of those, but I'll start with just a day!". Yes, every person I met I soaked in the sweet disclaimer to my attendance. Sister Cecelia was as thrilled to have my company as I was to have hers.

We made our way through multiple clusters of Sisters and as they each slowly scattered from breakfast on to their morning services, we stopped at the last remaining group and shared in conversation for quite some time. This was my favorite group of ladies. They were spunky and eager to talk of adventures.

Sister Cecelia introduced me to another Sister, "Brianna this is Sister so and so... (Oy, the dauting task of recalling names!)... She is recovering from a broken ankle that she got when she was in Big Sur."

"That was God's way of knocking you on your ass!" Laughed another sister sitting across from me. The table exploded into laughter while I sat there with a dropped jaw and stunned ears. "Sisters swear?!!? Rad!" This made me feel so much better for the f-bomb I dropped in the car earlier!

After breakfast Sister Cecelia slipped yet another surprising nugget of a sister's un-characteristic routines by inviting me to hit up a 20-minute workout at the monastery's gym. This was an inside look I wasn't about to ignore so I grabbed the invitation with both hands and walked up the cloistered staircase with Sister to the tiny room that held 4 dodgey workout machines. Sister Cecelia picked up her book and fell into her familiar 20-minute routine on the stationary bike while I kicked off my heels and started up the treadmill. There we were. Sister Cecelia and I hanging out in the monastery workout facility - I defied the sketchy belt that flopped all over the treadmill while Sister grooved her legs to the rhythm of silence. Never would I have anticipated working out with a 70-something Sister!

Warming up our core body temp led us into a grand tour of the entire monastery. Sister Cecelia transformed into an over-enthused kindegartner proudly explaining their show and tell object in exaggerated detail. Every painting or work of art we passed by I was given the run-down of who created it, when they created it and how they created it. With every work of art Sister looked at it with gracious attentiveness that I was unable to resist the force of the intentionality by which she studied. This impecably focused tour actually spread through the remainder of the day. I was shown every room of the monastery, the spirituality center, the hermitages and the guest house. What captivated me the very most was the rich hospitality I saw in Sister Cecelia and every other tender spirit we encountered. The moment I entered the open gates of the monastery I knew that hospiatlity was going to be a prominant characteristic, I just never thought it would be so radiant, so contagious and so deeply authentic. It was truly lovely.

3:00 p.m came far too quickly and it was time for me to leave. The day completed itself with a tour of the guest house and it was there, with Sister Cecelia and Sister Rita, that I decided I had to re-visit, and not just for another afternoon, but for an overnight experience. Sister Cecelia wants to show me the artisan studio, the college's art department and lastly; because she knows how dearly I love writing and everything English, she wants to introduce me to yet another sister; Sister Mara Faulkner who apparently teaches in the English Department.... I told you the hospitality was amazing! My next visit will include more solitude and silence as well as a deeper look into the pillar by which St. Benedict's Monastery stands - Prayer/Community/Service.

Lord have mercy

2010-01-14T09:36:00.000-08:00

Lord have mercy.

A catastrophic 7.0 magnitude earthquake rocked the island

of Haiti Tuesday night. It is said that 3 million people have been effected by the quake and some hundreds of thousands of people dead. Life is crammed with the unexpected and we are often left in the wake of destruction. My heart is suffocating under the heaviness of this devastating disaster.

Dear friends, we are called to be pray'ers - if ever there was a time to intercede for the nations, very truly now is that time. Pray with me.

2010-01-13T13:49:00.000-08:00

As a way to ignite my hopeful daydream of taking a pilgrimage to European Monasteries, I will be spending this Friday with the sisters at St. Benedict's Monastery in St. Joseph. I can hardly contain my excitement.

Sit perfectly still and Listen for a tune

2010-01-13T12:10:00.000-08:00

"I feel I'm on the verge of some great truth. When I'm finally in my place. But I'm fumbling still for proof and it's cluttering my space, casting shadows on my face. And though I have the strength to move a hill, I can hardly leave my room. So I'll sit perfectly still and I'll listen for a tune." - Alexi Murdoch.

Life is a journey of seeking after truth. And truth, as sad as it is to say has become ghastly relative through the generations of broken voyagers. We want truth, we crave it. But only the sweet part. If it is hard we cast it aside. If it is inconvenient we dismiss it entirely. And if it asks anything of us, we go in search of option B. Alexi Murdoch puts it beautifully in his song 'Wait'. What is it to be in our place? For this place is the center of truth, and this truth demands that we sit perfectly still and listen, for its tune. The art of stillness and listening was not first practiced by the hands of songwriter Alexi Murdoch, rather it is an ancient tradition that has been practiced through the centuries of pilgrims looking for not just "some" great truth, but "the" great truth.

"The monastic life is, above all, a life of prayer." - Thomas Merton

I have a daydream to study under the spiritual directors in early European Monasteries. I long to embark upon my own pilgrimage in search of the stillness and listening methods that our desert fathers and mothers have been boldly and steadfastly exercising for years. The monastic life consists of four unshakeable pillars that hold together their quiet ways of living. The pillars are that of Prayer, Community, Work and Rest and it is the first that binds everything else together. I have a confession. I desperately need the grace of Christ to help me live as an intercessor. It's a clumsy journey that I cannot seem to manage with any level of consistancy and yet there quietly breathes a desire for the spiritual intimacy that comes from prayer.

As Christians prayer seems to be the first sacrament we toss in the trash like a filthy rag. Nobody wants to draw the "intercession" vocation card in their game of life. It is a 'job' that carries no amount of glamour, attention, success or fame. It is a lifestly that goes unnoticed, that is why we bury that card underneath the more attractive ones. Why do we do this? Because, as Donald Miller so creatively put it; 'Everybody wants to be somebody fancy'. So we claw our way into the pile of possiblities and clutch to the roles that guarentee the spotlight, roles that will don us with flashy costumes and make others jealous of our amazingness. And yet, prayer is countlessly highlighted througout scripture. The apostle Paul is one of the greatest intercessors I've known (not personally of course, but from what I've read at least.)

"Devote yourselves to prayer, being watchful and thankful." - Colossians 4:2

I have seen the ways life unravels when it is not tightly knitted together with prayer. If you look through the Pauline letters I encourage you to take notice of the frequency in which his prayer life is mentioned. Repeatedly Paul opens his letters with, "I have been praying for you... In all my prayers for you... We always thank God when we pray for you... We have not stopped praying for you... Devote yourselves to prayer... " And he humbly signs them asking that the church be in prayer for him as he continues his mission of spreading the truth of Christ.

Paul was first and foremost an intercessor. He drew this vocation card with joy and invites us to do the same. Had not Jesus interceded on Peter's, his faith would have miserably failed. Often times Jesus withdrew from the crowds in order that he may sit perfectly still and listen for the tune of his Father. The monastic communities set aside times during each day for communal and private prayer.

Divine Providence

2010-01-08T11:21:00.000-08:00

"Though an army besiege me, my heart will not fear; through war break out against me, even then will I be confident" ~Psalm 27:3

Throughout the psalms my mind is completely rocked by the ways in which unwavering confidence is proclaimed. As a girl who is clumsily learning to trust in Christ as my true and only provider, I am in awe of those who hold the gorgeous ability to stand firm in the faithfulness of God. At every corner there are flashy attractions deterring our minds from the one thing, namely God and his kingdom, that deserves our full attention. In a world where we put our hope in the things that moths and dust destroy, it is painfully easy to grow sick with worry. Often I am plagued with anxious ridden questions. "How will I pay off my ridiculous college debt? Will I have rent money this month? Am I hearing the Lord correctly? When will I get married?". Though I may trip over these earthly distractions I am encouraged to put my hope in the Lord, the one who orchestrates the melodies of creation by his divine Providence.

It is because of the leadership of the Lord that the psalmist can declare confidence even when war breaks out against him. John Calvin asks this of the psalmist:

"How is it that their confidence never fails? It can only be that while the world seems to go on its random way, they know that God is at work everywhere, and they can be secure in this." ~ The Institutes.

What have I to fear when the God of all creation is at work everywhere? Furthermore Calivn explains:

"When once the light of divine Providence has shone in the believer's heart, he is relieved and liberated, not only from the extreme fear and anxiety which had previously oppressed him, but from all worries. Because, as he rightly rejects the idea of chance, he can confidently put himself in God's hands." ~ The Institutes.

There will come a day when my knees will fail me and I can no longer go out for a run. But I will put my identity in the Lord. One day I will be 60 years old and reflecting over the years of serving Christ alongside my hubby and I will smile at the days in which I doubted the partnership of another. And when my bank account is as dry as Death Valley I can rest assure that God is a good and loving parent who will not let me live without. God is in control of everything. He knows when I rise and when I sit, though I may plan the course of my life the Lord determines my steps. The goodness and providence of God are beautifully linked, and so I say "Be strong and take heart!"

peanut butter and the trinity

2010-01-06T18:13:00.001-08:00

if you walk down the peanut butter aisle at your local grocery store you will find yourself transported into a great land of deliciousness. there are peanut butter flavors to tempt every palette, it's similar to the edible wallpaper at willy wonka's chocolate factory. do you want chocolate or raspberry in your peanut butter? pb loco to your rescue! feeling like a tree-hugging traditional? there are a dozen different kinds of organic chunky and creamy, sure to pair perfectly with your thrift store goodies and sandalwood oils! can't seem to kick that inner-child? skipppy and jif will spread like butta on your crustless wonder bread. with all of these choices the process of finding your favorite is as frustrating as searching for your car keys when your already running 15 minutes late (ah, personality disclosed). after years of searching for the perfect pb, i have discovered that there is a delicate and true subordination to the nutty web. smuckers organic chunky on top, followed by parkers honey crunchy and trailing with the wildly outrageous pb loco. three separate brands united with the golden thread of peanuts.

this spurs a desire to delve into the theology of the trinity. doesn't conversation about peanut butter cause you to think of jesus? come on, own it- i know i'm not alone. when one ponders the mystery of the trinity the general understanding is that the father is like splinter, the son is like donatello, and the spirit is as off-kiltered as michelangelo. did i lose you? i guess all the talk of peanut butter transported me to my childhood love of tmnt - i apologize for nothing. but really, there is a level of subordinationism to the trinity that is simultaneously unified and equal. how does this make any sense? in "the institutes of christian religion", john calvin writes:

"although the eternal nature of the father also belongs to the son and spirit (since god could never be without his own wisdom and energy) and although there could be no place for first or last in eternity, the distinction of order is not meaningless or unnecessary."

ok calvin, so there IS validity to the notion of hierarchy within the trinity??? what say you?

"the father is thought of first, then the son from him, and finally the spirit from both. everyone thinks naturally of god first, then the wisdom which springs from him and finally the energy by which he carries out his plans."

i work at caribou as a desparate way to keep from sinking into educational debt. i adore my job and see it as my ministry. the other day i was lost in conversation with a young woman that i work with. we were (as only the spirit could ignite) talking about our beliefs in god/religion(s) and she proclaimed that she does believe in god but she cannot believe in jesus or the bible. i held my tongue, though i wanted to dig further. i knew that one cannot truly believe in god if they cease to believe in his word and his son. my friend, like many other professing believers, walks the al a carte line of the character of god and chooses only that which pleases her comfortable lifestyle. one meaty helping of god, well done. hold the jesus, and no word sauce. one cannot believe in god if they are unwilling to confess jesus as god as well as the word as god (which it is, but that can be saved for another theology on blogger). here is where my good friend calvin links together the subordinate existence and unity.

"this distinctiveness in no way interferes with god's perfect unity, because the son can be proved to be one with the father and the spirit to be no different from the father and son."

and it is here that i am left undone. what a mystery god is! that the nature of god can be seen in each of the persons - each one holding his own individual existence - and yet be perfectly united. three separate and three united. i follow god because i will never be able to comprehend his mystery (well that, and because he chose me) and i love that, it's what makes the entire journey one rad adventure of flirting with the mystery of the unknown. so remember, next time your trying to find your choice peanut butter, remember that they are all different, but fundamentally they are united under the umbrella of perfect goodness.... did i just say that? forget it, pick up calvin's institutes instead.

recollections on how to love well

2009-12-29T16:49:00.000-08:00

"how we spend our days is how we spend our lives" ~ annie dillard

recently i've been reflecting over the ways in which i live my life. i suppose you can say i have come to a point when i am bogged down by the temptation to believe "is this all there is?"... for the greater portion of 8 years i have been walking with christ. it has been a clumsy adventure - the 2 steps forward 1 step back sort. there have been days of extreme delight, so much so i thought my heart was going to pound right out of my chest. and there have been nights of the deepest darkness my soul has ever endured, nights when i loathed the thought of dawn because i knew i'd have to face another day. but then there are moments when nothingness blankets the palette of emotions. these are perhaps the worst moments of all - because scripturally we are promised that we will receive the desires of our heart as well as persecutions and troubles, but to succumb to the numbness of the nothingness is to in a terrifying sense, give up. though i find myself entangled in the mess of nothing, i refuse to give up.

"i went to the woods because i wish to live deliberately" ~ henri david thoreau

i want to live deliberately. i want the ways that i live my days to be a breathtaking reflection of the prayer of my heart, "that i may love the lord my god with all my heart, with all my soul and with all my mind" i want to, as paralyzed as i may feel towards it, step out in faith and love others with the love of christ. how do i do this? for weeks i have been asking christ how i can love others well. what can i - brianna millett, a seemingly aimless wanderer, possibly direct others to the intoxicating, transforming and redeeming love of jesus? to seek an answer i first began to recall the times in life when i feel the most loved.

gary chapman is best known for his work "the 5 love languages". in this book mr. chapman describe 5 fundamental ways that people both give and receive love. these facets consist of:

1.) acts of service 2.) physical affection 3.) quality time 4.) words of affirmation and 5.) gifts.

i know that in a romantic relationship i equally need both physical affection as well as quality time. but in every other relationship, it is the quality time that prevails. if i am going to show you that i love you i will invite you over to dinner, i will take a walk or go for a run with you, i will sit down and share a cup of coffee and listen to your heart. and it is when others do this for me that i leave their presence filled with the confidence of knowing that they love me. so there i have recollection #1 - i feel loved and i give love through quality time.

"but i, i love it when you read to me." ~ peter gabriel

words carry with them a certain indescribable power. i am an english minor. i love literature. there have been many books and quotes that have inspired me throughout the years. in moments of the aforementioned emotions of delight, pain, and numbness - the literature of others utter forth the articulation required when our emotions capsize our ability to speak with our lips. in my prayer times i often encounter deep silence, so deep that i am physical unable to speak. this is where the the psalmists speak for me. there is nothing more powerful that reciting verses for my king. what better way to pray than with the very words of god? his word is sacred and transforming. i have studied british literature, american literature, radical non-fiction enthusiasts and the highly simplistic yet beautifully profound poetry of the ancient mystics of past. i love to be read to. my soul is transported into an entirely different world when i can sit back and listen to the creative carvings of other's minds. similarly, i love to converse about books. when something rocks my mind it is of paramount desire that i muse over it with another. thus we have recollection #2 - i love words, speaking words and reading words.

"i dress a wound in the side, deep, deep." walt whitman

lastly, i have a passion for women. i long for women both young and old to taste and see the truth of their identity. i take to heart the command in scripture for older women to mentor younger women. this is the great joy of my life, to mentor younger women and share in life with them. for 2 years i had an incredibly wise, tender and selfless woman speaking words of encouragement, truth and love into my life. without her i would not be the woman i am today. it is my prayer that i can offer this same kind of love to other ladies. there is no greater time than there is today for woman to rise up and reclaim the truth of their identities. for years mine was snatched away and i walked around aping those around me and living my days behind the mask of falsity. but through the mercy and grace of christ, i have been transformed by the truth that i am the daughter of the king. just as walt whitman couldn't not minister to the wounded soldiers in the hospitals of the civil war, so too i can't not minister to the wounded identities of the women of this generation. finally we have recollection #3 -i love (or hope to) invite others to proclaim the truth of their god-given identity.

so what does all this mean? to be honest, i'm not quite sure. but i have some ideas. these are the joys that christ has developed within me. i have been hiding them under a basket and in doing so, they have not been liberated to shine in the radiant ways that they are created to. living intentionally breathes trust. spending times with others reveals the love of christ. words speak the sacred, transforming power of god. and mentoring others through the love of the holy spirit invites them to to receive the truth of who they are as the beloved.

day #5 - soiled purity refreshed

2009-12-16T13:02:00.000-08:00

on my drive to class this morning i couldn't help but notice how quickly the fresh covering of white powder had been soiled by man's tramplings. this observation was the catalyst to a well of deeper thoughts.

throughout the generations, the tarnished sin that entangles our lives often stains the purity of christ's intent. how often do we abuse, distort and glorify ourselves through the gifts god willed for his glory? we take redemption and prostitute it for cheap satisfaction. i offer these thoughts as a confession; for i am guilty of debauching the white robe of grace that has been wrapped around my perverted bones and i shred it in ways that expose the midriff of my fleshly longings.

when i am confronted with the reality of my brokenness my strength is sapped and my lips utter in frail whispers, "lord have mercy, lord have mercy, lord have mercy". in nouwen's thoughtful sketchings on the eucharistic life he writes this of our sin:

"yes, we are sinners, hopeless sinners' everything is lost and nothing is left of our hopes and dreams. still, there is a voice: 'my grace is enough for you!' and we cry again for the healing of our cynical hearts and dare to believe that, indeed, in the midst of our mourning, we can find a gift to be grateful for."

~ with burning hearts

and it is then that the mess we've made of our white robes are wiped clean with a new snowfall. over and over again the lord's faithfulness reveals to our faithless hearts that his sanctification conquers our flesh that bend towards sin - and our hearts are turned towards the cross.

"jesus doesn't hold back... he gives all there is to give."

not of nature but of nurture

2009-12-13T18:10:00.000-08:00

i've been fixed on this photograph of my niece shayla and myself. it was set-up on a 10 second self-timer. with a click of the shutter the countdown commenced and we ran in front of the camera and fell into the grass, smooshing our faces together for a goofy shot. i love self-timer shots and even more so, goofy ones. this particular photograph is now one of my most beloved images to reflect on.

for whatever reason i was engrossed in the photograph and i decided that the picture colors a portrait to the type of mother i hope to be. shayla is amazing and unique. she calls for (without words) focused consideration from adults and yearns for someone to recognize her (and very truly we all do); to ask her questions about her school, art, books and her friends. i love to give such undivided attention to my girl.

i adore the way that shayla entertained my wild idea to do an eskimo kiss for the shot. her face is lifted towards mine all squished and eyes wide shut. her smile is perked and tight with delight. my face is relaxed and my lips are barely curved. i am staring straight into this darling girl's face - giving to her every part of attention, whether she takes it or not, it is hers. i like to observe people and act on the internal empathy gage so that those around me are loved in the ways that they need. this photograph is sweet, and maybe only to me, but i pray that i can carry this intentionality further into life as a spiritual director, sister, and daughter; friend, mentor, future wife and mommy.

day #4 - tripped by everest and welcoming 28

2009-12-12T14:54:00.000-08:00

mother nature has an intrusive way of keeping us in perspective. in an instant she has the ability to destroy the false validations we surround ourselves with. our homes are ripped open by tornadoes, our cars are swept down flooding rivers, and our bodies are buried when we attempt to defy her mountainous forms. we are finite beings in comparison to mother nature. but she can also call us out in softer ways that perfectly parallel to our needs and our way of learning.

today is my 28th birthday. i enjoyed a long outdoor run under the bright winter sky, which presented itself as a blank white canvas for me to liberally smear the culmination of ponderings that began marinating 28 years ago. somewhere, in between blinking and daydreaming, i have lived enough life to be two short years shy off 30.

whenever i go out for a run my imagination runs alongside and within a quarter mile i am transported to a far off land like africa, scotland or italy. instead of jogging on icy sidewalks in the metropolis of the midwest i am covered in the mud that forms when washing the feet of desert travelers. i am strolling through the alley's of europe with my camera and backpack, making friends with the locals as i stop to greet them in their family owned coffee shops. there we spend hours conversing of life's joys and difficulties while slowly sipping a cappuccino.

today however, i was not in one of these romantic countries; i was right here - in minneapolis. running down 53rd ave and catching my grip as i cautiously turned onto bloomington. i didn't even realize what a mess my thoughts had tangled into. somehow a vicious bloody battle was happening and i was on the front lines warring against the enemy's distorted ridicules. their commands catapulted bombs of "should's" and i was dodging past the exploding of noises that blew portraits of what my life should look like as a woman beginning her 28th years of life. in a second i was snapped back into reality as i was barreling face first into the rink of ice below.

a colossal iceberg resembling mount everest fell in the middle of my running path and decided, at random i'm certain, to trip my feet and bask in satisfaction at the sight of my limbs flailing in desperate attempt to save myself from a knee-crushing, teeth shattering biting of the pavement. i've never been a graceful woman. i could never make it as a dancer - i'm far too clumsy. that is why i'm a runner. luckily i have amazing reflexes; it's god's little way of protecting me in the midst of my dangerous inability to do simple things, like walk and chew bubble gum. this brush with humiliation silenced the ammunition of the enemy, stole me from the battle lines of lies and brought me back to the brink of this adventure of my 28th year lying before me.

day #3 - cup of peace

2009-12-10T15:46:00.000-08:00

this morning i woke early so that i could have time to sit, relax and enjoy a cup of coffee in my living room. the house was quiet, miss lucy was not yet awake and it seemed as though the rest of the world was laying in peaceful slumbers. with nothing but a candle and a strand of twinkle lights to brighten the room i cozied up on my couch with a blanket and a fresh cup of bold dark coffee to warm my hands and insides while christmas melodies softly streamed from pandora.

as i sat here in my humble quiet place, i watched the darkness of early morning slowly reach forth her indigo fingers and unwrinkle her marmalade coverings. all of my surroundings opened up their graces and invited me to drink the cup of peace. and so, like any polite guest would do, i accepted. putting the cup to my lips the steam curled around my nose and bridged the divisive silence i shoved between god and myself. the liquid of tranquility streamed down my throat, melting away the heavy yoke of loneliness and distrust i've been carrying for three months and settled at the center of my being.

gazing out the windows i took notice of the ways in which the world simply rested under the layers of freshly fallen snow. the trees and flowerbeds, summertime chairs and the outdoor fireplace understood with complete acceptance that for the next 4 months they will have to remain, under the hand of winter. no resistance - just a full comprehension of the season and a trust that they will have their time, once again, to utilize their gifts. i wanted to live like them. the trees and flowerbeds i mean. nestling deeper into my couch and pulling my blanket to my chin i opened the sacred words of god and found the literary invitation that nature's cup previously provided.

"be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the lord". - psalm 31:24

goodbye arminian

2009-12-10T11:58:00.000-08:00

after two months of grappling with free-will or predestination, i can no longer stand on the belief that my choice plays a role in my salvation.

day #2 - woven stories

2009-12-09T18:23:00.000-08:00

minnesota has been overtaken by abominable beings donned

in ridiculous fur covered wraps and masses of billowy down covered apparel. smart cars and mini's have transformed into monsters relentlessly spewing gritty grains of sand and clearing a path with their unforgiving jaws. in one night, life as we midwesterner's have known it stepped into the salon for a little makeover and came out a drag-queen diva. and whether we want to or not we are forced to stop our routines and yield to the

metamorphisizing diva of nature.

the force behind mother nature is her ability to craft a well orchestrated rhythm of life. we adjust our clocks to the rising of the sun, to the onset of twilight. our wardrobe is directly linked to the masquered by which mother nature dances. even the state of our psychological make-up is contingent upon nature's force. she does not abide by our way of life, rather we transform in accordance to her command.

this got me thinking. everything in creation was and is fashioned together by the almighty. the stretching hands of trees reach to the heavens while the inumberable grains of sand on the shore are incomparable to the thoughts god hold for us. there is a very distinct pattern set within every fiber of nature in such a glorious

way and since this is true (just open your eyes and watch the world take place around you), the ways in which we live according to nature is ultimately a refelction to the ways in which we live - whether consciously or unconsciously - in rhythm to the god of creation.

i wonder how many bundled minnesotan's recognize this radical harmony we share between christ and mother nature. creation works together in harmony. the logos of god shakes the snow from my boots and i am left undone, dripping with humility and adoration. through the gracious providence of christ my story is woven together with those around me, communally we are intertwined with the story of creation and all together we are tied to the unbroken unity of the triune god.

day #1 - silent snow

2009-12-08T16:06:00.000-08:00

falling snow, billowing silence.

the deep autumn has finally let go of her last leaf today. she held out for as long as her brittle hands would allow as though she was gifting her admirers with an unusually long glimpse into the soul by which she exists. with one last gasping breath, autumn ushered in a new guest. like a seamless relay, the baton of seasons was passed from one to another and before we admirers knew what was taking place, brother winter had already wrapped us in his billowy embrace.

sweet autumn, i am one of your many enthusiasts and i thank you for the ways you have modeled what it is to persevere. the steadfastness of your company is worthy to be acknowledged by all.

the task at hand for today was to become a learned student of nature. that is was this mini-series of blog posts is all about. what can i learn from nature? what is she asking of me? how does she collide with my soul? i did receive a rather large portion of enlightenment from the unexpectedness of mother nature, but i can't help but wonder if this simple revelation illumined itself in lieu of the recent self-awakening regarding the simple and painful tendencies threaded throughout by being. i am learning the characteristics of silence. silence presents itself as the penetrating nourishment our dry bones cry out for; it exists as our greatest remedy. and all at once a divergence springs forth; silence poses as the stitches that bind the liberation of our brokenness. we become enslaved to the fear entangled throughout the riskiness of confessing and fail to step forward in vulnerable authenticity.

during my crawl home this evening i couldn't help but take notice of the abysmal influence the seemingly innocent snowflakes carried underneath their glittery robes. many times the winter season is equated to silence. layers of blankety whiteness stills the noise of this world in which we live and we are unknowingly disarmed. i watched with full attention the beauty of the falling snow and wondered to myself - how can something as tender as these snowflakes accumulate into a mess of dormancy? the snow began to fall early this morning like molecules of glitter and remained in that finite state throughout the day. and this is how our silence begins. it seems harmless at first and we acutally believe that we can stand unaffected by its power and never would we tantalize the possiblity that it can impress upon the lives of those around us. but it does. just as the millions of icy fragments fall quietly from the sky above, they inevitably grow into walls of inprisonment.

just as snow must be shoveled so that we can walk through and reach our destination so too must silence cease to bind our trembling lips in such a way that our souls are freed to bask in the light of voice.

theology of the ladies

2009-12-08T11:53:00.000-08:00

i cringe writing this... but i think that once my little adventure in emerson land is complete, i will boldly feed myself to the lions and blog about the theology of women in leadership. check back in a week for the purging of my endless musings.

inspired by emerson

2009-12-07T17:35:00.001-08:00

as my american literature class comes to a sorrowful close, i was struck by a glittery realization today. every work, every great american writer we've studied throughout the entirety of this course has in one way or another been radically shaped and inspired by emerson. more specifically, the authors that follow in the footsteps of this american literature hero weave his sweet obsession towards nature into their own masterpieces.

thoreau spends years in quiet solitude, living alone by a pond and seeking to embrace the simple life. the river is what gives life to mark twain's creativity. the whiteness of the whale that leaves every melville fan in a state of introspection. chopin's focus on the liberation of the endless ocean. keuroac and his infectious novel of the vibrancy and spontaneity that comes from life on the road. picking apples with frost while deciding what road you should take. even up to dillard and her musings at tinker creek. everyone of the literature forefathers i adore have been influenced by one man and i cannot ignore the throbbing inquisition that levitates my gaze in such a way that i am left with a single desire to mimic the attention to nature that emerson speaks so highly of.

starting tomorrow i am going to begin an intentional note taking of the nature that surrounds me and i will post a few brief comments encompassing my observations. for it is not only emerson that encourages us to consider nature, but this invitation carries back to the desert fathers and mothers of the early centuries and even further to the intriguing command delivered by jesus. "consider the birds of the air... consider the lilies of the field...". i welcome your company on this brief stint into the world of nature that has manifested itself into a collection of life altering documentations beginnig with christ, filtering through the monastic movement, and picking up with the transcendentalists.

the mystery of silence

2009-12-04T12:00:00.000-08:00

king david certainly knew what he was talking about when he crafted together the 32nd psalm. he speaks of the relentless grip silence has upon the pulse of human life.

"when i kept silent my bones wasted away."

what a mystery the art of silence is. we are taught to be still and know that god is god. there are stories written concerning the voice of god existing in the quietness of a whisper. and in a world exploding with noise the heart of human desire is for a space in which we can unravel our toiled souls in the comfort of silence. how can psalm 23 create a portrait of life that is fostered by the quietness when just 9 chapters later our pathetic understanding towards silence is utterly shredded by the anguish of david's wasting bones. silence brings death. silence delivers life. does this makes sense to anyone?

i have been recognizing the life that comes when i choose to speak out. my natural tendency is to remain silent and tip-toe my way through life with wildflowers in my hair, twirling in and out of experiences while waving my glittery wand of idealism. to share with others the truth of what lies behind my twinkled eyes and bushy tail rarely takes precedence over delivering the typical response of 'all is well'! for the past couple of months my heart has been suffocating underneath the dark challenge of transitioning back into midwest culture. reverse culture shock is a bitch to navigate and the loneliness that inevitably lingers in every paramount life transition has manifested itself in distorted and ugly ways. and it is this bout of depression i have been drowning in that the mystery of silence presents itself as my oars of salvation. in search of something life-giving i was drawn to a poem i had written for a sermon on the 32nd psalm given on ash wednesday during the lenten season last year.

ash wednesday selah

my bones
they are wasting away
the sin
of my soul
is too hideous to reveal.
in silent hiding
i must remain.
but dare i
acknowledge
the veiled ugliness?
selah...
day and night
your hand
it is so heavy
crushing, pressing down
upon me.
the strength
of my flesh wilts
as in the heat
of summer's sun.
all day long
groaning seeps from
every fiber of my being.
this pain is too great.
but dare i
acknowledge
the veiled ugliness?
selah...
my eyes
grow weaker still
with the sorrow and grief
that consumes me.
the affliction
of my heart
crushes the spirit
within.
brokenhearted i remain
alone, cold, and anguished.
but dare i
acknowledge the veiled ugliness?
selah...
untiring hands
stretch forth
in the emptiness of my night.
again i refuse
your comfort to my soul
it is easier here
the familiarity of sin
has become a companion.
my silence
strengthens its deceptive
friendship.
but dare i
acknowledge
the veiled ugliness?
selah...
forsaken i have become
who can save me?
the pain
of my loneliness
strangles the light
holding me hostage
as a prisoner of inequities.
the troubles of
my heart
have conceived and filled
my life with despair.
there is only silence.
but dare i
acknowledge
the veiled ugliness?
selah...

proverbs 31 and fun panties

2009-11-04T13:51:00.000-08:00

i think i'm strange. there are small peculiarities threaded throughout my make-up that do not normally credit my attention, but when i observe the greater population and see that they hold a vastly different form, i'm left concluding that i am indeed (and rather proudly) a rare breed. the pinnacle example that affirms my odd ways is the anticipation i have to turn 30 - i can hardly wait.

there is a glitter that comes with being a little bit older. it seemed that the moment i crossed the quarter life threshold, an abundant of restful confidence was poured from the hands that created me and filled every crater of insecurity that covered my years of youth. what is it about passing the age of 25 that the race to impress others draws to a liberating end and the anxieties of whether or not you have what it takes ceases to keep you awake at night? whatever the reason, i am grateful for it. as i grow older the desire to be somebody fancy lessens (not completely mind you, i think deep down everyone wants to be their own rock star) and the longing to be a servant takes a beaming precedence.

to crack my point past where the dandelions grow and over the fence, i offer the most recent transformation of heart that is taking place within. during the infancy of my life as a follower of christ i shrugged off every consideration of growing into a "proverbs 31" woman. the picture i had of a proverbs 31 woman was the kind of women who wear turtle necks, nude colored cotton briefs and boring full coverage bras. the kind of women who carry bibles with painted flowers on the cover and who would never dare spout off anything close to resembling a cuss word. i was never that kind of a woman. i like to wear panties that make me feel sexy and pink lace bras. i swear, sometimes too often, and i really, really like a cold beer or a glass (by glass i mean bottle) of sassy red wine that makes me feel overly romantic. my bible is painfully tattered and filled with ink stains and there isn't a trace of thomas kinkade anywhere near it. but the older i get the more my ideas of a proverb 31 woman change and the greater my longing to be shaped into one grows.

"noble character". this is as far as i get into the 31st proverb before tears well in the pockets of my eyes. another facet of getting older is that i care more about character, my own and those of the people around me, than i do about the things that they know or the embellishments of accomplishments framed on their walls. i want to follow christ. i want to be transformed, broken, intoxicated with love, and serve selflessly until the day that i die. i want to know of the wild ways in which the grace of god is shaping the hearts of my friends, changing lives, uniting people groups, and delivering radical healings. i crave to learn from the women who have accumulated wisdom from experiences i have not yet tasted - especially from the women who wear nude colored lingerie. a woman of nobility, now that is lovely.

there are 2 women that immediately come to mind when i think of proverbs 31 women. the first is my older sister beth. what makes her so lovely is the stunning style in which she loves. beth is one of the most selfless people i know. she is a gorgeous mother of 4 beautiful girls, with baby number 5 blessing our world this spring. as the oldest child she has the natural ability to protect, nurture, and express every maternal instinct created. the second woman that i am so thankful for is my dear friend kathy. i first met kathy almost 6 years ago but only in the last 3 months have i really begun to get to know her. i am awed by her grace and her fierce strength. kathy exudes intentionality with everything that she does and she has shown me (unaware i am sure) what it is to be a triune woman - lover of god, wife, and mother. they are three separate identities yet mysteriously connected.

it is so interesting to me how desires change with age. the dreams i once thought would decorate my life forever gently fade in light of wisdom and selflessness. my 28th birthday is only weeks away and i am anticipating an even deeper yearning to be a woman of god rather than the attention demanding motives of my youth. i may not ever purchase high waist cotton underwear and i may never stop swearing (though i'm trying to cut back), but i can still be a women of noble charcter - even with the lace around my hips and a glass of wine in my hand.

"honor the sabbath and keep it holy, but brianna - you don't have to"

2009-11-01T10:46:00.001-08:00

over the past two and a half months i feel like i have been living at a nauseating speed with no room to grab a paper bag and relieve myself from the gut-wrenching busyness that shackles rest to the walls of my palace of demands - lord have mercy. with this lifestyle there is little room to tap away on my keyboard for the pure enjoyment of it. instead the only exercise my fingers see comes from titling every processed image from past photography gigs, or pouring out pages from a shallow well of comprehension in clumsy attempt to prop myself onto a theological standpoint that rises only as high as a single semester of studying enables. "bcm_001, bcm_oo2, bcm_oo3... arminian vs. calvin (i'm leaning towards arminian, but that could change with semester #2) aquinas and constantine". for the love of god, where is the poetry? or the mindless outpouring of a girl's inquisitions?

here it is. i am pausing my photography work - wait, that's a lie. i am simultaneously processing images while blogging. dear reader i hope this post makes sense and successfully expresses a conviction of heart that surfaced through a friend's obedience. let me know how i'm doing.

multiple times throughout scripture the lord calls, or commands us rather, to honor the sabbath and for some arrogant reason i think that i am the exception to this rule. and in my unconscious refusal to separate one day out of the week to breathe deeply, put my feet up and (god could i allow it??) watch a movie, lay in my prayer closet and listen to the sound of silence, read a book because i want to, or take a nap if i need to; i am left riding the never ending tilt-a-whirl of badgerings. and i have 42 new stress-zits to prove it. why do i do this to myself? my sister always asks me, "why do you feel like you need to be busy all of the time?". every time she asks me this i am tripped up by the way she structured her question. "why do you FEEL like you need to be busy...". being a deeply sensory based woman i can quite honestly say i do not feel like i need to be busy, it just happens to end up that way. but after hearing my sister ask me this question over and over i was forced to take an introspective look to find the answer.

in effort to keep from sprinting down an unnecessary rabbit trail i will summarize my discovery. after meditating on the reason for my busyness i ended with the revelation that i live such a maddening schedule in order that i may avoid hidden feelings. enough said about that, i'll save it for a separate post. that one moment of mediation spurred me to think more seriously about honoring the sabbath. i wonder, how much intimacy with christ i am missing because i choose every other idol in life before i choose time with him? am i failing to hear his voice because my fingers are plugging my ears as i go waltzing away from the one who bids me to rest? can i be the mentor i want to be to my lovely young ladies when i have no space to breathe? how can i love all my peanut-butter's (nieces and nephews) in the capacity that i long to when i fill my time slots with work? i have become a work-aholic and i didn't even know it.

a dear friend of mine that i greatly respect is daring to say no to the voices that scream from our crafted 'to-do lists', and he is choosing instead to obey christ's command by keeping a sabbath. through his obedience i am gently convicted and furthermore, i am allured into an invitation to rest. the way that i am affected by my friend's wise choice only solidifies my observations of the fact that the ways in which we live our lives, in one way or another, touches every person around us. good or bad, our choices have the ability to exude life and invite others to embrace it, or they carry the sting of selfish disobedience and fail miserably to point to the cross. though i have no clue what it looks like to hold a day of rest, or even how to begin, i crave it. i need it. and i need it because i cannot do anything without the strength of christ, though he knows how hard i try.

to my friend - i thank you for your obedience, it pierces my chaotic lifestyle.

a little piece of enlightenment.

2009-10-08T12:07:00.001-07:00

for years there has been this intrigue within my heart that will momentarily manifest into a quiet longing. the act of fasting never ceases to captivate my attention. but it is a deeply mysterious call to humility that with it, i am confronted with masses of perplexities. considerations such as; how do i begin fasting - do i simply choose a random day and declare, "today i shall fast!"?what are my motivations for fasting? and what is the foundational purpose of fasting?, confine me to a state of thinking about fasting rather than participating in it's beauty.

the scales started to peel away from my eyes as i read through the gospel of matthew. my mind was held captived when i listened the response of jesus' when john's disciples asked;

"why is it that we and the pharisees fast, but your disciples do not fast?"

in all patience, jesus explained just as plainly as you would explain anything to an inquisitive, wonder-struck child. his disciples do not fast because they are in the presence of their bridegroom. there is no need for fasting when the bridegroom in with them. but, jesus continues; there will come a time when the bridegroom will be taken from them, then they will fast. this is the breath of fresh air i needed to begin clearing the foggy misunderstanding that suffocates the the clarity to the purpose of fasting.

the bridegroom has been taken from us. we no longer walk with him, eat with him, or sit before his feet in an incarnate fashion. and so we must fast for his return. we must humble ourselves and cry out along with the spirit for the bridegroom to 'come!' we fast because without the bridegroom our souls are deprived of the very source of life. and we fast in order to fill the golden bowls of the prayers of the spirit that will be poured out and release the return of the bridegroom jesus.

shedding soiled habits, or trying to.

2009-09-29T14:12:00.000-07:00

for the past couple weeks i have been listening to christmas piano melodies on pandora. i realize that fall has only just begun and i should not rush the looming presence of the blistering cold of winter, and i also recognize that listening to instrumental music is generally designated for those robed in polyester and loafers rather than a girl in blue jeans and chuck taylor's. i cannot deny the fact that i genuinely enjoy this culturally unappreciated genre of music. but lying just beneath the surface of this musical delight roars a longing to hear the tangible sound of silence; and christmas music has the magical ability to quiet one's soul.

as i sit in caribou, cozily snuggled next to the glowing fireplace, the lids of my eyes slowly and heavily blanket my vision like that of a drawing curtain. my plate of demands is pouring over the edge and the one thing that i long to do is forfeit the battle that i've appropriately named, "the war of busybri" and give in to the delicious escape of napping. oh how lovely it would be to doze off right here at caribou and tell my homework and photography work to relax right along with me. but this war has been won before it even began with its ruthless educational debt bullets shredding my flesh, seizing my free time, and wiping out the potential of a good night's sleep. how do i always seem end up in this place?

and it is this place that i thought i left behind - for good. when i was in california i spent 2 years informally counseled by a remarkable pastor at my church. during this time i discovered that i am an extremist. it's not something that i'm proud of, but it's the reality of my weakness. by tagging myself as an extremist what i mean is that i'm an either all or nothing kind of girl. rarely to i dwell in the comfortably positioned gray area of life. i began to actually model a life of balance as i learned to trust in the provision of christ while carrying out my own responsibilities. it was gorgeous and extremely restful. i'm not sure how i left this lesson learned in california? in no time at all i reverted back to my old ways of stretching myself like a brittle rubber band. i do not live this way intentionally, it sort of sneaks up on me. i've mentioned it in posts back, but my mom has always said that i dive off the deep end. once again i'm proving her right. once again i must grab the reigns of my life and yank them with all of my strength to halt this runaway carriage of busyness. and once again i must reposition myself at the feet of jesus and confess my broken attempts to trust in him.

i suppose i must give myself a small dose of credit. if this were two or three years ago i would not even recognize that i've created a mud pit of exhaustion. i'd carry on for the rest of my days working 12+ hours a day and sleeping on the weekends. but i am two years older now; that's two years of maturity, two years of wisdom, and two years of growth. it would be so much easier to continue in my old ways, yet the desire to trust in the lord and dare to believe that life is meant to be lived in restful assurance in the provisions of christ overpowers the temptation to do things my way. this is what henri blackaby would call a "crisis of belief". i want to choose christ. and so i am going to rest. tonight i completed my prayer closet; a sacred space where i can draw away and spend time in the presence of the holy spirit. there remains only 2 more wedding gigs in my schedule, and my boss at caribout is well aware of my present state of (in)sanity and suggested that i cut back on hours. taking her advise and listening to the gentle warning signs of the holy spirit i will be putting in less hours of controlling my life so that i can devote more time to the things that i believe god has called me to; namely intercession and school... i'll let you know how this mess is redeemed.

autumn's ushering of cupid's flirty truffles

2009-09-22T11:53:00.000-07:00

crunchy leaves floating gently from the aging hands that once held them so near. helios settles deeper into his equinox leather arm chair and casts a softer hue over his world below. the umbrella of night lengthens her midnight blanket, offering the frazzled race a few extra slumbering dreams. summer has officially bid his own company goodbye and ushered in the romantic presence of autumn. my very dear friend says fall sets within her a mood, a desire, to fall in love. and in her brief moment of authentic exposure, i was forced to take a peek into my own autumn inspired yearnings.

i can see where my friend is coming from. the season carries with it a colorful romanticism that draws people together. it's similar to the christmas season actually. during the holiday season everyone's spirits seem be injected by an i.v. of sentimentality. slipping on the icy city sidewalks fails miserably to taint the white blankety goodness of your day. if it were march and you were to get your feet caught up in the evidence of sub-zero rain, you'd curse the gods who created the forsaken land in which you dwell. but it's not march, it's christmas; so instead you send yourself sliding down the entirety of the urban mountain and drop a few coins in the army's red bucket of salvation all the while whistling melodies of silver bells. and so, introspectively i crawled in search of the hidden secrets that only seem to surface with the kaleidoscope of maple leaves.

with a headlamp securely fastened and a chisel to carve through the cobwebs that buried the intimacies of my heart, i went looking within my soul. this search of mine had intertwined in it's purpose, a well defined hope; and that hope was that i too may behold the beautiful desire to fall in love, but with the surprising twist that it be wrapped safely secured for another season. drawing up the sharpened pick i cracked through the first layer of the cupid's box of flirty truffles. to my utter confusion, the very first jewel i found was a sloppy melted pile of mystery confections. i couldn't discern it's shape, it's form, or the character of the thing; but i could tell that nailed beside it was a plaque that appeared to be the potential title of its name. however the letters i could not read.

to understand this mess i would have to stand in the presence of the great unknown, and quite frankly i didn't have that kind of time - i brushed the dust off the glowing lamp atop my head and trekked further. there were cherry-filled cordials that beckoned my attention by oozing charmful whispers, but i didn't bother, once the cherry spills out all that remains is a slimy empty shell. a little further i came across chocolate drenched raisins rampantly kicking like popping corn kernels, but i'm not interested in the temporary satisfaction of raisins. after this i was plowed over by the invading presence of chocolate turtles. i felt sick just looking at them so i wasted no time over their meaningless offerings. finally, after winnowing through most of cupid's flowery arrows i came to something familiar, something known. slowing my pace and focusing my gaze what i felt was the same mysterious configuration i had tasted in the beginning of my journey. only this time there was something subtly different. the overall structure didn't change, the appearance was untouched, and the blushing intrigue i received upon our initial introduction remained. now squinting and leaning in for a closer look, the difference was disclosed! the title plaque - i could read it! in humble letters this mound of secrecy spelled its autograph - "tomorrow". and with quiet satisfaction i bowed at its base and delightfully acknowledged the identity of the confection - which i am certain, by the way, is filled with peanut buttery deliciousness.

the fact of the matter is i am not ready for love. aside from the one incredibly handsome regular that allures my attention each morning at caribou, my vision is fixed on the season of education i am in and the path of spiritual formation i am walking. "tomorrow" is precisely what i was hoping i would discover. "tomorrow" is what i need. and with the promise of "tomorrow" i walk out the door and kick up the freshly fallen leaves that carpet my doorstep, and with a smile across my face i enter into the today with a rich contentment and delight in the adventures that are bestowed upon the lives of the independents.

a distraction from homework...

2009-09-20T17:51:00.001-07:00

a handful of potpourri whatever's...

1.) i have a legitimate addiction to peanut butter. no joke. in 6 short days i polished off two jars of smuckers. friends, that is 5,880 calories of oily peanut creaminess swirling in my tummy. is there such a thing as peanut butters anonymous? if not, perhaps i should organize one.

2.) waiting to attend college until my later 20's is the greatest order christ has ordained in my life. i'm undeniably the grandmother on campus, but i'm also one of the few who has chosen my classes based on desire rather than force.

3.) as the leaves in minnesota begin to change their wardrobe my heart grows painfully sad at the bitter ugliness that follows close behind. it's only september and i've already accumulated a serious cabin fever that only the month of february can provide. i really do hate winter (except for december... but i'm a flaming lover of christmas).

4.) speaking boldly doesn't seem nearly as fearful as it once did. why? because i now know the beauty that is the driving force of it's language, and that is grace. look out world, the breastplate of self-confidence has a shiny new coat of twinkly courage.

5.) the pursuit of spiritual formation is the path that i'm walking and with each passing day this journey developes into a colorful bouquet of anticipation. and this is why i articulate my joy and gratitude in being an elder within the university.

7.) my "landlord, landlady, and land-little-lucy" are postively amazing.

8.) i love not owning a television.

9.) god is my provider. i am not... if you know me at all, this is the greatest revelation i could possibly embrace. i'm humbled beyond measure.

polka dotted contemplations...

2009-09-17T14:43:00.000-07:00

a forkful of natural chunky peanut butter, a little red wine to relax the soul, swirling smoke from a lilac inscent, lucy's barefeet pattering on the floor above, and the sun drenched autumn afternoon pouring in my windows. i take a break from my american literature readings to type out a few of the thoughts that linger and dance in my mind like the burning lilac inscent.

my life doesn't just cast a different hue, it poses an entirely new picture. i'm taking 15 units at bethel university and i've been bombarded with deeply thought provoking texts from authors like roger olson and paul eddy, as well as highly invigorating and inviting stories crafted together by the transcendentalists of the early 19th century. caribou coffee seeps into my pores (literally, every crevasse of my body and every strand of hair has accumulated a permanently new scent - coffee.) furthermore every spare hour of time that is not already consumed by class or homework is spent barreling through innumerable hours of processing work that pounds on the door of my photography business. lastly, my running adventures no longer kiss the pacific coast, and the brief stint of racing around cornfields already is in the not so distant past. now i have the astheticly pleasing array of the minneapolis lakes to adorn each mile i pound out. yes, life is unquestionably different than what i have been used to and i'm learning how to adjust.

prior to moving away from california i assumed that the first few months would be the most challenging. i thought upon arriving to minnesota i would immediately enter into 12 weeks of painful drudgery and don a weighted, bleak trenchcoat of transitional depression. but those first dozen weeks were easy, somewhat exciting, and even a little sparkly. but now the glitter of moving has not only tarnished, its unveiled the ugly complexion buried beneath and i am left feeling the emotional turmoil that hangs on the coattails of all paramount life transitions. how does one handle this well? how do i learn every jewel of spiritual goodness that is intricitately hidden amongst the clutter of difficulty? and how do i do this when i am without the community of my darling california girlfriends?

patiently. that is how. i am a terrifyingly impatient woman. it's true. but i'm that of a circumstantial agog. moreover i am far too... what's the word... i dive off the deep end i guess is the best way to put it. i invisioned having all this time to help manage the bethel cross country team, find a youth ministry community to serve in, and mentor all the young women i'd be in school with. i had big plans to be sure of. but the reality is there is not a drop of spare time haning on the bucket of my schedule cistern. and so, i wait. maybe this is a season of life where i (do i dare presume?) focus on myself. perhaps this is a season of studying, learning, and growing in my faith through academic challenges. this season is a murky swamp of confusion, but that is due to the fact that i have replaced my intentinonal time of prayer for theology, literature, and creative writing material. it very well could be the discernment and rest i so desperatly yearn for will be found when i take just one moment to pause and reorrient myself towards the redemption of calvary. patiently, yes,that is absolutley how i am to journey forth from this upside down postion i put myself in.

desires not of my own

2009-08-20T12:18:00.000-07:00

"delight yourself in the LORD and he will give you the desires of your heart." psalm 37:4

a marriage filled with devotion, friendship, grace, and uninterrupted kissing sessions. waffle ice cream cones with a hearty side of organic peanut butter. become a spiritual director. a few new tattoos. travel across the globe with my nikon and a journal. these are but a few of the endless desires that decorate my heart. i have often wondered what this verse in scripture means. i realize that on the surface this does not seem like a very challenging sentence to comprehend. but when we look at it bare-boned, it gives the perception that all that is required is a slapped on smile, maybe a joyful leap here and there, a quick rub of the magical ark of the lord and voila! wishes granted! not quite. i believe there is much more underneath these words or promise. and only recently has my blurred vision been focused just a little bit more clearly and as a result, this passage takes on an entirely different hue.

the lord laid it on my heart to pray for a friend that will soon embark upon a wild adventure. often times god places specific ways to be in prayer for others and it is always interesting what sort of concoction he brews together. this particular call to prayer is fashioned together in a time frame that equates to the season my friend will be away, and tied together by a leather journal filled with each day's prayers sketched onto the pages. i love doing stuff like this! so far it has been 3 1/2 weeks and through the days i have seen outstanding thematic whispers from god and these quiet promptings have manifested into a beautiful enhancing process in my heart.

over 3 1/2 weeks my heart has grown in yearnings that i didn't even know existed. is it because, until now, they had yet to take their first breath of life? or were these longings simply in deep hibernation, waiting for the perfect season to awake and crawl out from their long winter slumber? whatever the essence of these blossoming cravings, i am grateful for them; for they are both the effects of prayer and the promptings to pray. god has taken his creative idea of a several month season of intercession and set fire to the wick of desire. i am finding that because of the great delight that bleeds from spending time in communion with christ, he grants unto me the desires of my heart. the direction the spirit blows while in prayer and petition leads me straight into the fountainhead of longing, which is of and for the will of god.

god vs. cujo

2009-08-11T14:05:00.000-07:00

i was almost shredded by a pack of dogs yesterday. no joke. i went for a run, which (side note here...) contrasts wildly to the runs i've been treading during the last 2 years of my life in california. it took no time at all to fall madly in love with my runs along the coast, up torrey pines state reserve, on the beach with my roommate, through the desert trails of prickly pear with my cross country girls, or up and down the 101 with my dear friend courtney. at every turn i was welcomed by blossoming scents of star jasmines, hibiscus, and fresh lavender - with an environment like this, who wouldn't love running? now that my life is taking root back in minnesota, i have to get reacquainted with the sights of the midwest. rather than the pacific i have a 3.5 mile lake. rather than trees of palm, hills, and cascading magenta flowers decorating my path, i have grasshoppers the size of my fist, dust from the tractor passing me on the gravels, and rows upon rows of sweet corn as far as the eye can see. yes, things are certainly different. but back to the pack of rabid dogs...

i was on the last stretch of my run (you guessed it, down a gravel road) when to my petrified surprise a group of 4 monstrous dogs came growling, sneering, and bolting my way. all i could think of was the antique horror film "cujo". you know, the one with the rabid st. bernard that malled people with his ferocious teeth and grizzly-like paws. cujo was a menace not to be disturbed. as the dust cloud behind the paws of my fast approaching slaughter grew closer the hair on the back of my neck was at an all time high... and so was the dogs. they were pissed off that i crossed their turf. and then, just as i thought my limbs were going to be torn from my body only to be a chew toy for the dogs, a moment of enlightenment. eureka! i remembered the wise words of my mother. no, it was nothing like "make sure you wear clean underwear, you never know if you'll get in an accident." although, with the face of death radiating before me i was in need of a new pair of shorts, but that's a different story. what i remembered was something that my mom learned through the training of each new puppy we had. through the piles of dog-training literature she discovered that if your growl at dogs - in any situation - they will back down immediately. i'd always laugh at her ridiculous suggestion. but i had nothing to lose (other than my very life) at this point. at once confidence filled my noodled frame and i turned and let loose a deep, terrifying, un-human like growl from the pit of my stomach. i was shocked with myself actually, but even more shocked to see the dogs come to a screeching halt and turn away with there tail between their legs.

sweet victory! i am brianna - heroin to those living with cynophobia! hear me growl! i was bad ass and i knew it. 4 apocalyptic-like dogs crumbled and ran away in terror from the fearlessness i tore loose. this moment of triumph got me thinking about living all of life with a confident and fearless grasp. if i could defeat a pack of mangy dogs with the words of my mother, then what else could i defeat with the words of the lord? if i could turn and face a (literal???... nah, i just like to exaggerate) near death experience with courage, why then do i not enter into the seemingly fearful circumstances of everyday life with a similar tenacious bravery? why do i think it's more hideous to expose my heart than fight against dogs? why is it more fearful to live out my faith? why don't i trust in the words of the lord in the capacity that i trusted in the counsel of my mother?

as i finished out my run i was invited to conquer fear once again, and reach out to a family in desperate need of love. at the end of the road that i was running on stands the house of our neighbors and recently they have been enduring what i am sure is nothing short of hell on earth. this family has sadly become the brunt of the town jokes. they are forever ridiculed for their ways, for their looks, for nearly everything that they do. i have never seen anyone stop by their house for a visit, and i have never heard kind words spoken by the neighboring farmers of the county. in effort to bind the raging force of gossip, i cannot say more about this family's "dark night" other than it's a night of darkest horror. the day that i heard of the tragedy i fell to my knees in prayer. i asked that the peace and grace of the lord would hover around the family and blanket every unfathomable emotion. further more i asked for the opportunity to extend love to them. i have to be honest for a moment and confess that the last prayer i don't even know if i really meant it. seriously. it's so easy for me to spread love to high school students, to my friends, to my co-workers; but to spread love to a family that i do not necessarily "feel" comfortable loving is a fear (or drudgery) of epic proportions. but i know more than i know anything else, that this family needs to be faced with hope rather than ridicule. they need support rather than suspicion. and they need the love of christ rather than the locked doors of their neighbors.

and so, as i made my way closer to the finish line of my run; which, as i mentioned before, is the home of my neighbors, i could feel the nudging of the spirit telling me to go over there. it was undeniable and i couldn't ignore it. but i made a million excuses as to why i couldn't, or shouldn't, go to this hurting family. "they probably don't even remember me."... "they are so sick of people flocking to their door to get more information i'm sure the last thing they want is another accusatory guest"... "i doubt they're even home."... i was more afraid of going to my neighbors house than i was of 4 wildly pissed off k-9's. now tell me, how does that make sense? after refusing the prompting of the holy spirit for a quarter mile, i finally caved and dared to believe in the power of christ.

where i would normally turn left and walk down the driveway of my parent's house, i continued walking forward to the cluttered driveway of my neighbors farm. i paused at head of the entrance and made the cowardly decision that if i saw one of them walking around the farm, then i would approach them and offer my sympathies. oh even as i type these words i'm disgusted by my fear and inability to trust. a few minutes passed and i felt like an incompetent lover of christ. i saw no life around the farm and so i turned and made my way back to my parent's house. as i began walking away, one of the family members came out of the barn. i turned and waved and continued on my way. maybe i did fold. i cannot deny that i have (and continue to) placed my hesitations higher on the pedestal of priorities than the need of another. but i'm still going to go back. i know that i articulate far more clearly through the scribblings of my pen - so i went out and picked a card to paint with the words of my sympathies. tomorrow when i'll return to my parent's house and i'll carry my shaking legs and the the words "love one another" shall be a lamp unto my feet.

my charlie brown tree

2009-07-29T07:21:00.000-07:00

back in april stephanie (the lovely young woman that i mentored) and i went to dinner in pacific beach. over our meal we entered into conversation regarding what it means to be a woman of god, what it looks like to behold true femininity. i thought i held a somewhat confident grasp on the topic until stephanie asked me what true femininity actually means. as i began unfolding the my limited understanding i spiraled and tripped over my words only to come to the conclusion that i have no idea what so ever what it is to posses true femininity, nor do i comprehend what the image of a godly woman reflects.

since that day i've been impassioned to gain understanding to the mystery of godly womanhood. my inquisitive tendencies have been the driving force behind many hours of prayer and scriptural diggings, podcast listening's and intentional conversations. through each of these inspired steps of discovery god has slowly dropped nourishment into the cracked soil of my perplexities and in my quiet time this morning god spoke rather plainly, drawing my attention to the appropriate verses so that i may receive small doses of truth revealed.

over the next 2 hours a list of what it is to be a woman of god began creating itself. one by one the ornamental verses of proverbs, ruth, 1 peter, colossians, ephesians, and 1 timothy provided branches to shade the parched land of my initial inquisition. i guzzled my way through these books and began trimming the branches with decorative accessories and right before my eyes there stood a dazzling and humble charlie brown style tree. glamorous characteristics such as responsible, diligent, strong, giver of wise and loving counsel, gentle and quiet in spirit, pure and reverent, submissive, steady, dependable, noble, dignity, free of worry and anxiety, radiating joy, inner beauty, and kind-hearted illuminated this infant tree of mine.

how is it that god would address and honor my endlessly wandering mind? my heart is overwhelmed with gratitude. but it is not i that initiated this search of what it is to be a true woman of god. for nothing is birthed, nothing is cared for, and nothing is done unless the lord enables it to be so.

one of "those" fans

2009-07-27T10:22:00.000-07:00

i never understood the sort of music fans who were so impassioned by artists that they would go to any length just to see them in concert. when i worked at the bar i had a friend who legitimately worked just so that he could increase his dave matthews band concert fund. i'm not joking. this friend would spend hundreds - no - thousands of dollars every summer to concert hop his way across america following the lingering clouds of dave matthews magic dragon tour. don't get me wrong, i totally dig dmb - i'm fortunate enough to have seen 2 incredible shows, one in alpine valley and the other in san diego. crazy, say goodbye, and grey-blue eyes are some of my all time favorite tunes; but thousands of dollars just to see him jam?

this morning at 9:50 sharp i logged into the david gray website. beginning at 10:00 am pre-sale tickets for his upcoming show at the orpheum were made available and i wanted to make absolute certain that i would be one of his adoring fans drinking the sweat that falls from his face as he pounds the ivories and hypnotizes the audience with his insanely poetic lyrics. at 9:58 my stomach began turning and my fingers were well prepped to click hard and fast the "add to cart button". 2 more minutes and i would be faced with the opportunity to see my favorite artist of all time perform at one minnesota's gnarliest venues. needless to say i was on the edge of my seat, nearly wetting my pants with anticipation. just when i thought i couldn't wait anymore, the website flipped from "pre-sale starting at 10:00" to the gloriously illuminated posting "buy tickets now". i felt like i was a horse at the kentucky derby.

i raced fast to the electronic check out line with my invisible electronic cart in desperate attempt to be one of the lucky few to get tickets. my fingers were a blur and with the first try i received a warning that the requested sections were reserved. so i went back, clicked the section again and typed a hopeful '2' in the quantity box and resumed my position in the check out line. like a rain cloud over my head the killjoy notification of "section reserved" flashed it's malicious smile at me. panic began to set in. for the next 27 or so minutes i repeated the aforementioned steps of filling my cart and sprinting to the check out line. all with no luck. hope began to dwindle when the vacancy sign for the pit level section blinked "no". not long after this, a second "no vacancy" light went on. 2 out of 3 sections were sold-out and i never even made it through the check out line. faster and faster i typed. "section 1 & 2... quantity 2... proceed to check-out". only to keel over with a round-house kick of disappointment. i hate to admit this next part, i really do; but tears began welling up in my unblinking eyes. i could taste the bitter possibility that i might not get tickets. i fought the good fight and ran the race all the way to the end. soon the website warned that there were only 2 tickets left in the last remaining section. determined to get seats for my friend and i, i vehemently typed over and over again. in no time at all there was only 1 ticket remaining and my cart was still empty. and just like that the looming rain cloud over my head ripped open and the drops of misfortune wrapped their cold, wet hands around my once hopeful daydreams. pre-sale tickets were all sold out and my cart was empty.

i may not spend thousands of dollars like my friend did. but i can certainly resonate with his passion. this is my blog and i will never write false words about myself. and so i have to admit that i have officially transformed into one of "those" fans. i was willing to give anything for tickets to the show. and if i said those welling teardrops never actually fell from my frowning cheeks i would be lying. pathetic right? i know, you don't have to tell me. but this is david gray. one of music's most talented writers - his lyrics inspire me to pick up my pen and journal and scribble stanzas of rhythmic poetry. tickets for the general public go on sale in august. i will have to medicate the inflicted wounds of hopelessness and prepare for another vigorous mission to get a pair of tickets

butterfly thoughts

2009-07-19T14:16:00.000-07:00

butterfly #1

i received a job. thank you god. a few weeks ago i sent out somewhere around 20 different applications to every coffee shop that was hiring. upon sending out my applications, i left the rest up to the big man upstairs. i believe that god has a particular place for me where i can reach out to new friends and engage in the sweetness of relational ministry. this is my hope anyway. caribou called me to set up an interview and 3 days later i was hired. my new work home will be in the beautiful calhoun area and i am excited to get to know the people in this place.

butterfly #2

this morning i went to church at woodland hills, seeing as i failed to make it a few weeks ago because of countless hurdles that hindered my attendance. i'm still in the painful and uncomfortable process of finding a church community to call home. the moment i walked into woodland hills i knew that it was not the place for me. the first thing i noticed when i walked in the shopping center transformed into a church was a rack of literature to purchase and an enormous sized 'hub' where you can be directed to multiple different wings of the church. i'm not looking for a mega-church. as i sat in the back row, intentionally hidden from the hundreds of people that surrounded me; i wondered how long i had to stay. and then i wondered if i had turned from a girl seeking a new church, to a consumer looking for whatever is in it for me. i left after 4 songs.

butterfly #3

in effort to grow more acquainted with minneapolis, i spent the afternoon at a park directly across the street from caribou. it was quite positively the most perfect summer day. for 4 hours i observed the world around me and the people in it; i read some words by andy root and enjoyed a simple picnic lunch. i also took advantage of these sacred hours to be used as my church service, and the sermon was a baseball game. i watched the diverse collection of players with great intrigue. these men were of all different ages, most of them were overweight and uncoordinated. it was such a delight to watch them play because it was blindingly obvious they were out there for the sheer fun of it. as i sat there watching, i began noticing how their game was humorously incongruent to my personality. the often faulty characteristic of my make-up is the fact that i am very much of a rose-colored idealist blended together with whimsical romanticism. my heart gets sad when things do not go as buttery and as deliciously as i hope for them to go. this baseball game was the furthest thing from ideal. but in all of the players insufficiency's there was an abundance of grace. when ground balls required three players to pick up the rolling softball, much to my surprise there was not one degrading slander spouted; rather an outpouring of high-fives and words of encouragement. when 14 pitches were thrown before a batter finally hit one i did not witness outward expressions of frustrations, but i gazed upon the paradox of the horrible players that made up an incredibly remarkable team. what i need to understand is that life is not rose-colored and when things do not play out as romantically as i desire them to i long to see the redemptive qualities alluring my attention.

no longer hesitating

2009-07-15T06:22:00.000-07:00

a few friends and i were engaged in a volleying of questions when one of them posed the following: "if you only had one book of the bible to read for the rest of your life, what would it be?". one of my friends responded with the book of exodus, and the other opted for the book of psalms. when it was my turn to answer i hesitated, though there was absolutely no need for such a delay. i knew immediately that my choice would be the song of songs. but somewhere within me there was this embarrassment, this feeling that i was simple-minded or immature for tossing aside all other brilliant books that are filled with the prostrate demanding, bone trembling fear of the lord; books that are complex to the mind and held on pedestals of centuries of theological debates. there was a shadow of humiliation in my choice to dress the song of songs like a crown of daises around my head. should i choose exodus? what about all the major prophets? or what about revelation - only the masters of studies could unravel such a tightly wrapped nucleus of mind boggling literature.

this morning as i spent time in quiet reading my heart was searching for poetry that i could meditate upon. i began with the psalms, then a little proverbs; and in one last effort of desperation i turned to isaiah. but this act of pretending left me empty, unsatisfied, and searching. surrendering to the truth that i am, above all, a woman who would rather have a flowery crown than a scepter of knowledge. so i turned to the song of songs. and there i found what i was looking for. i found truth. i found the relational god who will stop at nothing to woo the heart of his beloved. i found poetry. this small 8 chapter poem is so often overlooked from those who stand behind the pulpit that everyone else sitting in the sanctuary ceases to hear the radiance of god's heart for his people - and this is perhaps one of the greatest tragedies of our time. we are a generation who has become numb and unimpressed by god. we are so conditioned by bible stories that the unbelievable fact that even death could not contain him fails to drop us to our knees in worship and humble adoration.

are we a generation of robots that are petrified to feel? i think we worship control and structure more than we crave a wild and dangerous adventure of following after christ. i'm the first to admit that it if far easier for me to rest in my circumstances than it is to trust in the indiscernible movements of the holy spirit. but as i look into my own life and observe the mass population all i can see is passive, unchanged, mechanical human beings. but when the god of all creation explodes his affections over us - how can we not respond with zealous irresponsibility? in song of songs 5:2 the lover who is god showers 4 tenderly transforming truths about his beloved's identity. who is this god that would do such a thing? why don't we hear of this god more often within the church? why are we afraid to let the poetic words, "my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one." unravel our false cords of structured control and liberate us to actually be touched by love?

when i think back to when my friend asked what one book of scripture would i choose to read, i laugh at my momentary pause. the truth is i want to feel - it's my natural make-up, it's the core of who i am. i want to share in the emotions and affection of christ. i want him to sweep the dust from my diluted spirit. i want to fearfully allow him to burn awake the sleeping desires to be filled with sensitive wonder.

words from merton

2009-07-08T06:59:00.000-07:00

since i am jobless and seemingly homeless i am provided with abundant space to read. this morning i have been stunned, halted in my faulty speed-reading, in order that i may marinate in the wisdom of thomas merton. (side note: merton is incredible. equivalent to lewis and nouwen on my list of heroes). currently i am navigating my way through "thoughts on solitude" and though it proves a challenging read at times, it simultaneously speaks to my soul in profound simplicity.

"laziness and cowardice put our own present comfort before the love of God. they fear the uncertainty of the future because they place no trust in God.... without courage we can never attain to true simplicity. cowardice keeps us "double minded" - hesitating between the world and God. in this hesitation, there is not true faith - faith remains an opinion. we are never certain, because we never quite give in to the authority of an invisible God. this hesitation is the death of hope. we never let go of those visible supports which, we well know, must one day surely fail us. and this hesitation makes true prayer impossible - it asks, it is so uncertain of being heard that in the very act of asking, it surreptitiously seeks by human prudence to construct a make-shift answer. (cf james 1:5-8). what is the use of praying if at the very moment of prayer, we have so little confidence in God that we are busy planning our own kind of answer to our prayer?"

how do you like these apples?

2009-07-05T14:41:00.000-07:00

"for our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms." ~ephesians 6:12

i've been back in minnesota for a little over 2 weeks now. of the past 16 days, 4 of them have been consumed with intense spiritual warfare. i suppose it was foolish of me to assume that i could lolly-gag my way into minnesota, a direction orchestrated by the gracious father, and not experience encounters with the army of the evil one. when i first began the journey of following christ 7 years ago, i was introduced to the truth that the world in which we live is a giant battle ground. the heavenly realms are jealously pursuing the throne room of the human heart so that we may embrace and experience the atoning love of christ. and for all of the strength and passion god exudes in his pursuit towards us, so too satan is vehemently slithering through the lives of men leaving his poisonous residue of deceit, strongholds, and hatred. but it has only been in the last 3 years that i have personally tasted, fought, and endured the crimson vibrancy of this bloody warfare.

a couple friend of mine went out of town to a cabin in northern minnesota this week and so i had the privilege of house/dog sitting while they were away. a few days prior to this i had filled out somewhere around 20 job applications so i thought that i would spend my time house sitting to search for more jobs and call the managers to all of the 20 placed i applied to. day one was filled with phone calls and sitting in front of the computer typing in my educational background and work experience. by the end of it all i could complete an entire application in 2.4 minutes without breaking a sweat. that evening i spent some time in quiet solitude with the lord. during our communion i heard him say; "wait on me." i have to be honest, i hate those words. i know i have done everything i can do up to this point. now i just have to wait.

with those restful and frustrating words god spoke, i decided to embrace the remainder of my house sitting time as a spiritual retreat. through the hours god spoke tenderly to my heart, by the guiding of his spirit powerful times of intercession were formed. i finished a brilliant book by brennan manning, a colorful read on intercessory prayer, and the commencing of a third book that immediately demanded my attention. in addition to all this satisfying goodness, i was also blessed with the space to pray for the week of summer camp that my former solana beach kiddos are enjoying, for four of my dearest sisters in christ that are spread all over the world; and for the marriages of countless friends, the restoration of strong families, and even for god to provide my own life with a place to live, a job, and a church community to call home. yes, it was a priceless retreat to be sure. the flip side to this time i intentionally committed to god is the ugly presence of satan. again, why should i not have anticipated the, pardon my tongue, dirty mother freaking bastard to sly his way in? and all i can say is duuuuude, the snake fought hard.

one of the facets of this new life direction i am in is the necessity of a church family. i am actually deeply excited about the entire process of searching for a place where i can belong. a place where i can not only be fed, but also a place where i can serve and pour out the love that god has lavished upon me. my personality's dna is a tightly knit thread of glamorous independence. i long to venture out and find a church all on my own. i want to try out different communities all on my own. i want to be challenged and uncomfortable all on my own. i suppose this is my peculiar fondness of having "my own" things, i like to know that i am capable of doing things "on my own". a few lovely friends of mine invited me to try the church communities they have been adopted into. some of them i legitimately want to experience, but the desire to first set out, you guessed it, "on my own" overrules the invitations.

this morning was the first of many sundays i would spend trying on different communities. first on my list was woodland hills church. i was excited to go and enter into a worship service that i did not have to work at. for the first time in two years, i was simply an attender. the night before i looked up service times and directions so i was set to go. once all my bags were packed from my long week of house sitting, i said goodbye to my couple friend and hopped in my car. my anticipation was immediately crushed when it wouldn't start. my car had never before given me any problems what-so-ever. i take excellent care of maizey (rule #1, you have to name your car) and she takes care of me. looking out the window my friends extended a confused glance. they came out and handed me the keys to there car so that i could still attend church. quickly i transferred by bags and before too long i was on the road. trying not to let the set-back of a disabled vehicle ruin my day, i started to pray for the worship service; that god would let me know if this is the place and the community he has for me. following the directions closely i started to realize that this church is a lot further than i thought. the minutes passed as quickly as a hummingbird flaps its wings and it felt as though i had been driving for eternity. before i knew it i was already late for worship. thinking to myself; "5 minutes late is not horrible." and still, driving, driving, and more driving. "ok," i thought, "15 minutes late, that's still acceptable." and then all of the sudden, the road that google maps directed me to came to a complete dead end. there was no street for me to turn on. google maps had failed me. by now i was half an hour late for service and had no clue where the church was located. stupid google.

i lost it. tears of frustration ran down my face and swear words sputtered from my lips like the powerful force of a fire hose. i was so discouraged, and as much as i hate to admit it, i was angry at god. i mouthed off to him (and it felt amazing) exposing the pains in my heart, the exhaustion i felt over always being in a season of waiting, and the frustration trying to trust him as my provider. the joy i had just minutes ago regarding doing everything "on my own" vanished and all i wanted was an already established church community... and a job... and an apartment... ugh. even as i type this colossal tattered rendezvous of finding a church, my soul boils over with weariness. dirty mother freaking bastard.

what am i to do? i look a little further into the letter paul wrote to the book of ephesus for my answer.

"therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground..." ~ephesians 6:13

i ask the lord to give me the strength to dress in his armor and fight. and when i feel like i can't fight any longer - which if i am to be completely real - is exactly where i find myself; i ask the lord to fight for me. this is what i am to do as i clumsily attempt to stand on the rock of trust and obey the word of the lord when he commanded me to "wait".

sleepless night

2009-07-01T03:06:00.000-07:00

it is 5:19 in the morning and my eyes burn with the pain of restlessness. i have literally been up all night long with only the cold emptiness of my lonely season of transition to keep me company. as i extend a bloodshot gaze out the window, the bleak, gray, colorless sky is a blatant reminder to the lifeless reality that exists when i cease to place my very life in the pierced hands of the redeemer.

the newness of moving back to minnesota is already over. in one fleeting minute the excitement that existed has been quickly replaced by consuming doubts, anxieties, and worries. as quickly as the seasons change in this endearing midwest state so too the emotions of my circumstances manifested themselves from hope to fear. what i am starting to see (as clearly as my foggy mind frame will allow) is the misplaced ways in which i hold the trueness of god's faithfulness. it is far easier to trust in the god of creation when your life is held together by stability. but what happens when the image of stability is represented by something like the dust bowl of the dirty 30's? how do you continue to sleep peacefully at night when the army of the evil one is no longer crouching at your door, but instead wrapping his adulterous arms around your weak and exhausted body? what then?

how soon i forget the unfailing love of christ! when the weight of my situation smothers the ability to rest i need to be reminded of truth, and it is threaded with strands of the finest linens and jewels all throughout scripture. god faithfully led his people to the promise land. god knelt and engaged the shamed woman at the well. god slept while a mighty storm shredded the boat he and his disciples traveled in. god clothes us in beauty and anoints our head with the oil of gladness. god tore the curtain. god conquered the grave. realities such as these are what not only stands against the forces of darkness, but reigns victorious.

b-u-t

2009-06-28T15:49:00.000-07:00

i'm an english nerd. when i read through scripture i adore looking for repetitions, foreshadowings, and intriguing adjectives. i soak in the tantalizing examples of lives of faith expressed through spirit filled fearlessness, and the eloquently fashioned poetry of the entire book leaves me simultaneously satisfied and still thirsting for more. very often than i am allured into spiraling daydreams as to the purposes of each delicious, purposeful word articulated through the inspired writers of the book of truth. oh how i love to read this love letter known as the holy scriptures.

my palette was first teased, (as i shared in previous posts) by the gorgeous poetry found in the song of songs. i have never, in all my life, heard or read such romantic lyrics as those found in this 8 chapter poem. descriptions of beauty give full-bodied shape to the poem and my soul is intoxicated by stanzas like these:

"while the king was at his table,

my perfume spread its fragrance."

"do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires."

your lips drop sweetness as the honeycomb, my bride;

milk and honey are under your tongue."

"place me like a seal over your heart,

like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death,

its jealousy unyielding as the grave.

it burns like blazing fire,

like a mighty flame.

many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot wash it away."

how can one not even be the least bit curious to read the scriptures when it is filled with words like this? perhaps it is because we are people that demand facts and statistics. but even this is an unimpressive reason. i believe it is something much deeper, i believe that we cease to indulge in scriptures because we are absolutely terrified of a little bit of mystery and because in scripture, there is no room for reasoning.

over the last year or so of reading stories found throughout all 66 books of the bible i have been repeatedly paused over one tiny three lettered word. "b-u-t". though i will never count all of the times this pin needled utterance is used, i wonder if it isn't one of the most commonly written expressions; i bet it is. the technicality of these three letters are seemingly insignificant. however, when you dress them in the infinite purpose of scripture their significance is exponentially magnified. but demands grace. but leads to salvation. but exemplifies hope. but is the life-vest of sanctification, the lowered basket of healing, the very breath of life. but is the exception, the multi-faceted jewel of an enchantingly redeemed world.

webster defines this reading speed-bump with other expressions like these: "exception, save, only, just". and in moments of depravity, the word offers life, hope, and sovereignty. in similar fashion to the ways in which my soul is ravished by the poetry of the song of songs, so too i am undone by the monstrosity of the ways scripture utilizes this word. if i were to highlight all of the moments when "but" magnifies the dazzling hope that is christ in the midst of darkness, it would take a lifetime to complete. so i will feed the minds of each reader of this blog by pointing out a few of the bountiful examples that this word is used. may it, by the grace of christ and the movement of the holy spirit, cause you to crave, seek, and passionately pursue a life of knowing god more fully.

"after many days had gone by, the jews conspired to kill him (saul)

BUT saul learned of their plan."

"BUT, god was with him and rescued him from all his troubles."

"therefore do not be foolish, BUT understand what the lord's will is."

"for i hear the slander of many; there is terror on every side... BUT

i trust in you, o lord."

"BUT god demonstrates his own love for us in this: while we

were still sinners, christ died for us."

"BUT, where sin increased, grace increased all the more."

from california to minnesota - jack kerouac style.

2009-06-21T09:31:00.001-07:00

on monday morning diana and i shared one last walk on the beach and savored a final "naked cafe" breakfast indulgence. my heart was as heavy as august's humidity. we strolled along the beach talking about life and the such, avoiding the overbearing elephant named 'goodbye'. it was our morning together and we embraced every fleeting minute of it. over breakfast tears as bountiful as the grains of sand and as salty as the pacific streamed down our cheeks. words became difficult to form as we muttered and choked our way through the presence of our elephant friend. but we did it. we hugged one last time, cried a little more, and finally parted ways.

i've had to do a lot of that lately; parting ways i mean. just when i thought that my heart couldn't bear another goodbye, a friend, co-worker, or student would approach and i would have to start the painful process all over again. without question, this is the single most difficult thing i have ever chosen to do. but that part of this new life direction is already over. now we are a skinny 6 hours from the place where i grew up. 6 hours from commencing yet another adventure in life. 6 hours from dancing the tango with the unknown and the familiar.

the drive from california to minnesota has been a collage of emotion. i took the first leg. i wanted to take one last drive on the 5 and one more glide along the 15. every ounce of my energy was focused on holding back the tears. i could feel them so deeply, forming in the pit of my stomach and oozing towards their great escape through the bloodshot threshold of my eyes. the trip has been quiet mostly. i have desperately needed this time to process through everything. my soul hungered for communion with god and so for nearly 2,000 miles he and i have done the silent talking. papa is generally a quiet man as well, so he's taken the driver's seat after vegas. in turn, i have been able to chew the cud of reflection. the drive has also been stunningly breath-taking. the magnificent canyons of utah provide a vibrant and humbling understanding to man's finiteness. i felt simultaneously safe and vulnerable as we drove along the umbrellaed red rocks - our lives lay resting in the merciful grip of the canyons falling rocks.

papa has had first class tickets into all of my peculiarities. i like to get up with the sun and go running. i putz my way through my morning routine, taking my sweet time; and papa would cover his impatience with a comfortable blanket of tolerance. morning coffee is an absolute must, and not just any coffee will do. so he would take extra roads just so i could have my gas station coffee; it's the best you know... and they have those tiny toxic coffee-mate creamers that i crave. along with coffee addictions is my retentive need to maintain hydration. i like water, a lot. so i'd have to stock up with a gallon of water every morning. and moreover, my ability to hold liquids stands at a strong 22 minutes. again, papa would masquerade in the bedazzlement of grace. but this is a 2-way trip. for all of my strange quirks, he also has his own. he misses turns and then makes excuses so that it seems as though he knew what he was doing all along. his hearing is failing so i'm always having to repeat myself. and i've learned 2 things about pops; 1.) he's always right. and 2.) even when he's not right, he's still right. i chuckle at these things. i don't mind them so much, he's still my papa and my hero.

once we waved goodbye to utah we entered colorado. god's glory radiates through the elevation of this beautiful state. we drove up and over the mountains. higher and higher we would climb and colder and colder the temperature would drop. lush greens would transform into mounds of white as we approached the summit. the roads were as narrow as a fitted corset and as curvy as a hairpin. the pain of holding my breath out of fear was more than worth it when we finally reached the over-look at the peak. i stood in the mystery of god's creating and laid my crown of awe at his feet. my heart is slowly beginning to trust more confidently the further east we go. the love that is god casts away the fears that taint my vision.

on a different note, everything else changes with the midwest. the scenery is horrifically boring. flat. green. corn. the people begin to take on heftier shapes and the hats take on the face of buckets. instead of the organic goodness of california cafes, all that stands are beefy portions of lard and potatoes. so too, the aromas morph into nose-wrinkling smells. the sweetness of star jasmine is replaced by rotten alfalfa. cow manure and newly tilled soil robs the spotlight from salty banana sweetness of the pacific and sunscreen. ah, life in the midwest; you just have to love it.

flying down the 80 i spend some time with barnabas and paul. my mind is overwhelmed by their faith and boldness as they themselves venture out into the great unknown. they go forth only in the power of the holy spirit. i slow my reading and take in the undressing revelations that comes from lectio divina. with this, i am comforted. the spirit speaks to me and once again i am left in the glory of awe. 5 and a half hours now is all that remains of this journey. it is my epic voyage of maturity and transformation and only now am i ready to love and warrior my way into the place god is leading me.

money shot...

2009-06-18T20:00:00.000-07:00

as my dad and i make our way east we have made a few stops to soak in the sights. it's experiences like these that i am forever grateful i chose to study photography. there is nothing more relaxing - intoxicating really, than photographing sites that still me. one of our purposed 'en route hiccups was garden of the gods. there was one specific shot i attempted to capture for at least half an hour, maybe more. it was challenging because the frame held a multitude of different exposures and i could not figure out how to balance them all.

this is the most challenging part for me as a photographer, but i'm determined to learn how to better operate my well loved nikon. here is my personal 'money' shot of the garden of the gods i finally received.

a few enlightenments along the way

2009-06-16T20:00:00.000-07:00

Yesterday at 12:30 pm I began my heavyhearted journey back to Minnesota. There are emotions and fears and hopes entangling themselves as tightly as the strands of my hair after being tied back in a knotted ponytail for a couple days without a brush to straighten the mess out. My dad flew to San Diego so that he can keep me company and show me sights that he delights to share. It has been a lousy 29 hours since I left California and the web of emotions has yet to unravel itself.

It has been significantly valuable to have this week of transitioning between California and Minnesota dedicated to stopping in National Parks, the Mountains, and checking out miscellaneous Museums. It provides highly craved time to process and winnow through the things in my soul that are of truth, and the things that are of darkness.

From the moment these fears surfaced themselves, I have sought the comfort and wisdom of my friends and my (now former) roommate Diana; all the while praying for wisdom and revelation so that I may understand the root of these fears. What I am beginning to realize through the power of the Spirit moving within me, is that what is really going on in the midst of the havoc of my internal wrestlings is a battle between truth and deception. Why shouldn't’t I have expected such a bloody warfare to take place? I am a slow learner I guess. It is clear as crystal that this is where God is leading me – I have been seeking His face and asking that He may reveal to me how and where His spirit is moving. And from that prayer I ask to be partnered with Him there. God is moving in mysteriously colossal ways.

God is honoring these aforementioned prayers and I am eager to follow after Him, to open my life up so that I may be the unhindered willing partner he desires. Is there anything of a greater threat to the powers of darkness than a follower of Christ who is fierce about obeying the movement of the Spirit? Of course not! There are monstrous fears looming around the throne room of my heart, gnashing their teeth with deceitful desires to break in and ruin hope, obedience, joy, Love; all of the things that are of Christ. What do I have to fear in this monumental life directional shift? It is of the LORD. Perfect love casts out all fears. There is nowhere else that I would rather be than in the center of God’s will – and I believe I am standing tall, front and center.

disclosed fears

2009-06-09T18:33:00.001-07:00

in 5 very short days i will somehow attempt to squeeze myself, and my papa into my tightly packed mazda and begin the long journey to minnesota. i've spent the last 2 years of my life living, growing, maturing, and embracing the lifestyle of the west coast and there wasn't single passing day that i didn't love every moment of it. as i prepare to take off, my mind races through a myriad of reflections and my soul is overwhelmed with emotions that i can't even begin to understand, much less articulate. how did time pass by so quickly?

today i met the new senior high intern. she is radiant. her spirit is tender and her heart for youth fills my own with confidence and sweet anticipation to pass on to her this ministry, these incredible students that i have grown to love so dearly. her name is rachel and she is going to do great things within our high school community.

yesterday i began the packing process. i actually thought that i didn't have that much stuff to pack up. that was until i opened up closet number 1, then i realized i'm in way over my head and maizey (that's the name i chose for my beloved protege) will never have enough space to haul all of my belongings. as i started the process of organizing my vagabond way of life, ever so slowly hidden emotions began to reveal themselves that i didn't even know existed.

the truth of this entire transition is that i am terrified. sure i am confident that this is very truly what god is calling me to. of that i am absolutely certain. i know that the pursuit of english/theology and eventually spiritual formation is the fire that sets light to my path - but with this new voyage also comes the great abyss of the unknown. questions and fears swirl about my mind and i am awkwardly tumbling over each of them. where am i going to live? will i find a church community to belong to? do i have what i takes to study theology? how can i leave the friends that i love so deeply? these challenges are like those sort of dreams where you are trying desperately to run away from something but you are so confined by fear that your legs refuse to carry you.

not only am i afraid of the unknowns, but i am also petrified to go back to something that "once was". there is a part of me that believes this colossal shift in life direction would be far easier if i were moving to someplace brand new. it's comfortable for me to enter into a place that i know nothing about and adapt a fresh life. instead i am heading back to the place where i grew up. how does one go back "home", when they left it a completely different person than they are returning? how will i live in confidence as the woman god has so graciously transformed me to be? will i be able to speak up for myself to my family? as dearly as my love is for them, there is a co-existing identity constraint that chokes out my true self when i am in their presence. and the friends that i left 2 years ago have stayed. their lives didn't stop when i wandered 1800 miles west, is it possible to re-enter the facade of "the way things used to be"? then again, not one part of me wants for things to complacently hold fast to "the way they used to be".

i suppose the overarching internal wrestling is; will i be able to stand as the woman i am today and cease the temptation to revert back into the woman i was 2 years ago? can i confidently proclaim who i am as a woman of god and with complete abandonedment continue in the direction god is leading me? in the core of my soul i do believe that i can, and i believe that this too is a part of the adventure god is laid before me.

marathon reflections.

2009-06-03T13:50:00.001-07:00

i have been processing through the marathon i ran on sunday and longing to articulate it in a justifying manner to those that ask. the reality however, is that the experience was (and is) so much bigger than words can even begin to describe. how do i communicate the tangible ways in which i received the graces of god - and received in an immeasurable capacity for an entire 26.2 miles? i suppose i will start at the beginning...

18 weeks ago my friend courtney and i began training for the san diego rock and roll marathon. we signed up to run this race out of a desire and intentionality to spend more time together, especially since we are both moving away in less than 2 weeks to completely different cities. the first handful of weeks our hearts and minds were void of any selfish ambitions. the motivations that caused us to wake up with the rising sun and pound out anywhere from 12 to 20 miles were pure and beautiful. the time we had together during our runs was priceless and the conversations we entered into are the sort that bring about transformation. as the weeks progressed, my intentions began to take on a tainted hue. and from here on out, i am only able to speak for myself.

running has been a passion of mine since i was a child. just a few weeks ago my grandma reminded me of how i used to run around the house over and over again simply for the fun of it. 'round and 'round i'd go until my legs couldn't carry me anymore, and i'd rest for a while and start all over again. i've been running for as long as i can remember. now as an adult i continue to embrace this passion and it has grown into a form of rest and meditation. but when i am not careful it can twist and manifest itself into something hideously prideful. the latter half of our training became an idol. there was something very sick inside me that received a toxic satisfaction in telling people that i was running a marathon. it's rather comical now when i think about that. running became my identity. the sad part is, this ill-placed identity has existed on more than one occasion. it's a temptation for me to draw a sense of value from the fact that i run.
when the initial motivation dimmed and my selfish pride stepped up, my body began to endure some debilitating injuries. it started with an excruciating case of shin splints (but i've had those for over 10 years now), which led to achilles tendonitis, which carried into a very painful case of runner's knee. and through each of these injuries my frustrations grew exponentially. i would direct my anger towards god and spew ignorant and arrogant questions. i would argue with him over how he could give me a desire to run, and then take it away with injuries.

2 weeks before race day courtney had to pull out because of a horrendous IT band injury. so there i was, all alone and still crippled by poorly operating knees. i questioned whether or not i should even run the race at all, so i did the only thing i know to do. i prayed. in lieu of the brokenness of the world, praying over whether or not i should run a marathon sounds ghastly trivial, but to me it was real and i believed it mattered to god. what began taking place was a stripping of my false identity. in my weaknesses god entered in. because i couldn't run, he began to teach me who i am and more importantly, he revealed who he is. days before the race god had softened my heart in such a way that the race didn't even really matter. running it i knew, would not offer any more value to who i am as a woman of god nor did it make me more beautiful to others. through it all what i discovered is the initial motivation for running the marathon. i wanted to run for the sheer enjoyment of it.

through prayer an idea was formed. this race was going to be a dedication to prayer. i was filled with a longing to pray for different individuals at each mile and it was an all consuming joy to think of the possibility of spending 26.2 miles interceding for others. i wanted to run so that i could combine my desire for a life of prayer with my desire for running. and what happened was something much bigger than myself.

at 6:20 sunday morning the race announcer called all runners to their assigned corral. when courtney and i registered for the race we signed up with the anticipation of finishing with a rather over confident time. i knew that with all of my recent injuries there was no way i could complete the race in the time we were aiming for. i climbed down the ladder of pace time and found a comfortable spot somewhere in the middle. as i stood there waiting for the gun to go off i began praying. with psalm 27:4 as the theme verse for the race i said to god, "lord i am here to pray. it is only by your grace that i can run. i would like to pray for all 26 people. but this is your race."

and for one powerful moment i stepped outside of myself and reflected on the significance of where i stood. i never thought i'd be running a marathon in san diego. i never thought i'd be living in san diego. i couldn't believe that i only had 2 weeks left in san diego. and then i thought of how courtney is not running the race with me. all of these thoughts sent a surge of overwhelming emotion that released itself through the pockets of my eyes and streamed down my cheeks. before i could collect myself the gun went off and 15,00+ runners went barreling through the streets of san diego.

the prayers began and every ounce of my attention was focused on things above. it is nearly impossible to formulate into words the joy that i had - it was far greater and bigger than myself that it can only be attributed to god's good graces. i felt as though i was literally gliding over each mile and as the mile markers passed my line of vision, i would glance at my prayer wristband and pray for the person(s) dedicated to that mile to. there were specific prayers i spoke over people, there were miles where i didn't have enough energy to think about the diffinitives and so i asked god to pray for them, and there were certain miles where god spoke through my great feebleness; like mile 24. i was fully exhausted and there was a very large and true part of me that wanted to quit all together. yes, 2 lousy miles away from finishing the race and it sounded deliciously alluring to quit. i was in desperate need of the perseverance that comes only from the strength of christ. and it was this personal need of mine that god entered in and reveled to me that perseverance is what i ought to be praying for on behalf of the friend to whom i dedicated mile 24.

i remember thinking to myself during the entirety of the race, "i can't already be at mile 6... there is no way i'm at mile 10... how did i make it to the half way point so quickly... only 3 miles left, no way...". there was so much joy, that is truly all i can say - joy, joy, joy! my closest friends were at miles 12, 18, and the finish line. it was their love and support that exploded the motivation needed to complete all 26.2 miles.

in all honesty i did not think i would finish. there were far too many injuries that caused such set backs during my training that i anticipated the completion of 9, maybe 10 miles. but god wanted to show me something huge. god wanted to show me that is it only by his provision that i can run. god wanted to humble me. and god blessed 26.2 miles in order that i may pray for 26 beautiful people.

the many faces of god

2009-05-25T09:19:00.000-07:00

there are boundless images of christ. he calls himself father, bridegroom, savior, redeemer, lion of judah, spotless lamb, truth, love, the way, and the list goes on. in life we travel through a myriad of colorful seasons. we experience times of great joy and celebration, times of sweet contentment and restfulness, and there are times when we endure challenges and arduous journey's through the wilderness. in each of these varying walks we often cling to and fall in love with the many figures of god. perhaps it is not by our choosing at all that we grasp to certain facets of this multi-impressioned king, but moreover it is by his inexpressible grace that he reveals to us who he is in a fashion that parallels to our desperately soiled needs.

for myself, the name of god that i most often return to is "bridegroom". when i was a young twenty years of age god shattered my bubble of complacency and introduced himself through the song of solomon. it was one of those stories you hear of so often that you find it easy to grow cynical of. its the familiar tale of those who became christians by randomly opening up the bible and discovering a passage of scripture that spoke in such a powerful way that it caused them to devote the rest of their lives to following after christ. well, that's what happened to me and i will never, in all my life, forget that divine moment. at the time i shared a bedroom with my baby sister and we were getting ready for bed. she was on her side of the room texting away on her cell phone and i, laying quietly on my side, decided to pick up her beastly sized bible and take a gander at what it had to say. i wasn't totally ignorant about god and scripture necessarily; for i was raised in a christian home. but i was clueless to what it was to truly give my life to god. after wiping the dust off the cover i opened to song of solomon 4:9 and being the insatiable lover of poetry and deeply crafted romantic that i am, i was immediately intoxicated by the words which read;

"you have ravished my heart my sister, my bride. you have ravished my heart with one glance of you eyes."

from that moment on i bow to the one who calls himself "bridegroom".

it was about four years ago when a new character of christ began to illumine in my soul. it is that of a provider. in my family we didn't have an abundant amount of income to rely upon. i watched my parents worry over finances and learned at the ripe age of thirteen if i needed or wanted certain things them, i would have to help contribute. i didn't think much of it at the time because that was all that i knew. but now, years later, i am sifting through the damage caused by identifying that i was my own provider and i am beginning to open wide my mouth and taste the provision of christ.

last thursday stephanie, the young woman that i mentor asked me; "what do you want to do in life?". i chuckled because what i really want to do is a little bit everything! i explained to her that i would love to continue in photography, i would love to write poetry, to do youth ministry for the rest of my life, to be a wife, a mentor, a mother, a college professor who teaches the poetry of the old testament, and a spiritual director. all of this is why i resonate with the words of van gough when he said, "to way to know life is to love many things." truly, i love many things.

a few days have passed since our conversation and during my prayer time this morning god connected a few dots that until now, dangled randomly in the infinite space of my heart. what i saw was how he took the desires i hold and graciously fulfilled each and every one of them (with the exception of being a wife and a mother of course). this summer i have six wedding photography gigs, over these last two years i took english and creative writing classes where i was able to construct piles of poetry and i just happened to work at a church that linked together art and worship and so on many occasions i was asked to pray with poetry. i am going back to school to study english writing and theology. as a youth leader i teach and most often my teachings are based upon the poetry of the old testament. every thursday i mentor stephanie. much of what i do is birthed from the mysticism of intercession and through that i am able to lead students and friends alike to discern the movements of the spirit in their own lives... each passion completely provided for.

this image of god as my provider still has a long way to go in order to brightly illuminate the steps that i walk. but with one passing day at a time i am slowly beginning to sacrifice the notion that i need to provide for myself. the words; "your heavenly father knows what you need", that jesus spoke in his sermon on the mount are ripping away the crippling fears i carry and in doing so, making room so that i might be able to receive them more fully. bridegroom will always be the foundational characteristic i cling to, but out of that the branches of provider, warrior, lion of judah, truth, love, savior, and everything from the beginning to the end spring forth.

2009-05-18T09:02:00.000-07:00

i have heard people who don't agree with the whole concept of myers briggs, or strength finders, or the such. they say it confines and cheapens their identity to a finely structured box. and when i allow myself to pause and see things through their eyes, i can see the value of their opinion. as human nature so brokenly gleams, we are judgemental, discriminatory, and viciously kill all mystery in order to gather some form of knowledge (which if we pause to think about that, what we really crave is control, and knowledge can offer that in a diluted way).

however, i believe there is also transforming significance to these tests. they invite us to understand ourselves and others in a different light. i for one have benefited from them in a radical way. i am a sensor and a feeler. intuition only comes through my senses and thinking is built upon a foundation of emotion. these tests have opened my mind and heart to better discern the ways in which god works through me. it is as though i discovered a secret code to the journey of life and with it the scattered puzzle pieces are easier to fit together.

all this to say, if it were not for "personality tests" i may not be where i am today.

"the whole purpose of spiritual direction is to penetrate beneath the surface of man's life, to get behind the facade of conventional gestures and attitudes which he presents to the world, and to bring out his inner spiritual freedom, his inmost truth, which is what we call the likeness of Christ in his soul." ~ thomas merton

in the fall i will begin studying at bethel. ultimately i'd like to study spiritual formation and pursue a life of spiritual direction. this vocation parallels comfortably to the peculiar ways god created me. when i take an aerial view of what ignites passion within my soul, more than anything it is guiding people into the deep mystery of the triune god. the movements of his spirit are like the wind, who can tell where it will blow? but to pray and sit at the feet of jesus out of a desire to discern the untraceable paths of his spirit - whether for my own life, for our nation, for injustices around the globe, or in the lives of my students and friends; is a facet of ministry god has laid upon my heart.

"a spiritual director is one who helps another to recognize and to follow the inspirations of grace in his life, in order to arrive at the end to which god is leading him." ~ thomas merton

it is a sad truth that spiritual directors get a bad rap within the church; as though this vocation is lesser than that of the pedestal dwelling theological scholar. over the centuries we have valued knowledge more than mystery, answers more than wonder, and control more than surrender. the beauty of a spiritual director (and theological scholars as well, do not misunderstand me) is how they re-direct the mysticism and boundlessness of following after christ while encouraging the spiritual within the soul.

i think it requires every one of our senses to discern the inspirations of grace in our lives. if my boss had never required us as a youth ministry staff to take tests of personality i may have never received understanding to the sensory based formation of my make-up. i would have shy'ed away from the prospect of spiritual direction because it's so rarely spoken of among the, as thomas merton names it, "normal religious".

"in a word, he (the spiritual director) is only god's usher, and must lead souls in god's way, and not his own." ~ thomas merton

FML instead of tears

2009-04-29T09:55:00.000-07:00

a little post in similar fashion to the bandwagon FML movement...

i cry when i get frustrated. when i was in the 5th grade and just learning to play the trumpet, trying to hit the high 'c' note was brutally challenging. i would practice and practice and yet i could not reach that bloody note; so i'd cry. from 8th to 11th grade math was horribly difficult for my artistically created mind. no matter the amount of tutoring i received i was completely unable to comprehend the absurdity of 'x' and 'y' and all those stupid theorems; which triggered my green eyes to produce a brilliant display of waterworks. i can't sleep on planes. when i flew to malaysia several years ago with a group of people for a 10 day mission trip in kuala lumpur my tired eyes and weary body would not allow me to enter into a much needed slumber. the boy i was traveling with was sitting next to me and he was fast asleep. i wanted to be him so badly. actually i wanted him to wake up and recognize how miserable i was and console my frustrated exhaustion. instead i entered into a wicked fight against my tears. it was me vs. them and i used every crafty punch i could think of to keep them from pouring forth victoriously. FML.

since the first grade i have been running. i love everything about running. unfortunately, my body does not react to the sport the same way my heart does. for years i've battled with shin splints. four years ago i ran a half marathon as a part of my full marathon training but i demolished my knee so i was never able run the full 26.2 mile race. a couple years later i ran the twin cities full marathon and after that i was out for months due to another knee injury. now here i am training for my second full marathon and wrestling with the frustrations of yet a third knee injury. FML. knowing that i cry out of frustration i want to refrain from doing so this time around, so in effort to keep the corners of my eyes nice and dry, i write this seemingly insignificant blog post.

in the beginning of this training i was out for two full weeks because of achilles tendonitis. that was probably one of the most painful wounds i've ever endured in all my years of running. miraculously however, god fully healed the damage. it was foolish to think that my body woudl surrender to my stubbornness and let me get away with abusing it day in and day out because now my knee is rattling and crying out in anguish. sometimes i think that god uses my body to teach me valuable lessons... oy, FML.

it is tempting for me to draw a sense of worth from my joy in running. i have to be uncomfortably transparent for a moment and let you, my readers, know that there is a large portion of my ego that bubbles over when i tell people i am running a marathon. to put it bluntly i feel pretty freaking bad ass when people ask, "wait, how many miles is a marathon?" to where i fan my peacock feathers and reply proudly, "26.2". lord have mercy. i think that god is trying to teach me to find my value in him and him alone. actually i don't think that, i know that. the fact of the matter is i am not a runner. that is not who i am. it is only a passion, a joy, a source of rest in my life as a disciple of christ.

i even had a dream last night regarding my dangeous stubbornness. in my dream i visited the doctor to ask about my knee. when i told the doctor what the problem was, she stared me straight in the eye and said, "stop running now. you cannot run any longer or you will completely ruin your knees. stop." my response to her was a very childish, "no." seriously, a dream??? FML. i thought that i learned this lesson of proper placing of self worth years ago. i'm pretty sure i did. true there are moments when i can puff my overcoat of arrogance, but for the most part i am incredibly intentional about submitting before the lord and laying my running on the alter of sacrifice. i guess there is more work to be done. one thing i have learned over the years is that god likes to go deep. he does not stop winnowing until he reaches the foundation of our souls and when he finally is able to touch the deepest parts of our hearts, he begins to mold us and shape us and transform us. i'm not going to cry this time, maybe one of these days i will lay waste my stubborn tendencies and learn.

seeing

2009-04-28T10:48:00.000-07:00

i am a wavering pray'er. the fashion of these inconsistencies has less to do with the discipline of prayer time, but rather to the trust that is involved with each interceding encounter. it's like this; i know god hears the cries of my heart but i don't actually believe - i mean deeply believe in every single fiber of my being, that he is going to answer my prayers.

this past weekend i was in minnesota celebrating in the beautiful uniting marriage ceremony of one of my dearest friends. there were many events that occured over the course of 4 days that i am continuing to process through. what i am presently turning over in my mind is the radiance of god's grace that illuminated the finite trust i have in him. each experience from this past weekend drew me to the cross and there i was greeted face to face with who god is.

god is a god of redemption and i embraced sweet redemption this weekend. god is a god of restoration and i gazed upon the spledor of this jewel of truth. god is a god of grace and for 4 days i dined at the table of isaiah 61 with bountiful portions of beauty and oils of gladness. god is a god of faithfulness and this weekend i witnessed god's faithful character through countless means. the marriage ceremony of my friend, a girls night with some of my closest sisters, a transformation that is taking place in the marriage of my older sister beth and her husband, an awkward and amazing conversation with a brother, and the sharing of a stogie and some laughs with 3 very valuable people in my life. these are the facets that god chose to reveal himself through and as he did, the scales from my eyes fell away and i saw the fruits to years of prayers and petitions.

annonymous gift

2009-04-14T20:36:00.000-07:00

for over a year now i have been meeting with one of the pastors here at my church to work through my deep fear of finances. it has been a remarkable journey filled with intoxicating enlightenments, illuminating hope, and challenges so crippling i can hardly manage to choke them down. but this counseling has been without question one of the greatest sources of maturity and growth in my life that i am forever indebted to.

during the last conversation we shared, my pastor/counselor informed me that i am a tensionist. it was clear that he could read the gaudy display of confusion that was written all over my face because with all the patience in the world, he pulled out a small dry erase board and began drawing for me a diagram that better explained what it means to be a tensionist. when it comes to certain areas of life i am either all or nothing. i had to laugh when he pointed this out to me for my thoughts immediately went to a time when my mom tagged this exact characteristic on me. it was about 4 years ago and i was preparing to leave on a missions trip to malaysia. she was, as most mothers would be, fearful to watch me take off. so she hugged me goodbye and turned to the man i was going with and as she hugged him she said something like, "keep an eye out for her, she likes to dive off the deep end." to where the man i was traveling with so wittingly responded, "i'll hold her back by her pig tails". they both knew of my tensionistic tendencies long before i even realized them myself.

holding now a slightly deeper understanding to the quirky ways in which i operate i have grown to pause and stare face to face at the voices of each end of the spectrum that scream and demand my attention. these voices burst their way to the forefront of my attention and immediately begin smothering every ounce of rationality. prior to learning that about the level of extremes i would give in to these voices and take matters into my own hands in desperate attempt for control. but now, now something gracious has shifted in the way i respond to the tempting songs of the false self and this alternative perspective is far more beautiful than the previously donned default of fear.

i think the sermon on the mount is one of the most beautiful teachings ever told. god has held me in matthew 6 for weeks and weeks. with each passing day he unfolds just a little more of the radiance that is contained within this passage. when god speaks, things come into existence. in this simultaneously humbling and incomprehensible scripture jesus says:

"therefore i tell you..."

now, when jesus says "i tell you" you can be certain that he will do what he says. so with that not quite fully grasped understanding i continue reading;

"do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink, or about your body, what you will wear. is not life more important that food and the body more important than clothes? look at the birds of the air, they do not sow or reap or store away in barns and yet your heavenly father feeds them. are you now much more valuable than they? who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life."

so much of my life has been spent worrying and stressing, literally losing hair and finding new zits on my face that seem to unearth themselves just to say, "ha ha! sucka! stress out enough yet?" but when i read this sermon that jesus gave i am invited to rest. i am beckoned to trust his provision rather than my own aimless stabs at it. and i am allured into giving him the control ropes to my life so that i can ease up on the choking bit of fear that strangles me.

today i received a gift, a gesture of love. it was an anonymous gift that someone had given to our junior high director to pass along to me that produced total curiosity and unnerving gratitude within. the offering extended to me was a white envelope that had my name written on the front of it. i waited until everyone had left the office before i opened the envelope and what i found inside was a simple yellow post-it note that had the words "jesus loves you. never forget it." scribbled in black permanent marker. underneath the note was a bountiful financial gift. i wept... and remembered...

"therefore i tell you, do not worry about your life."

2009-04-10T15:35:00.000-07:00

this year's holy week i've been praying that god would tenderize my heart in order to tangibly feel the emotions that were bore during these 7 days some 2000 years ago. a rather outlandish prayer i am aware, but i mourn over the fact that easter becomes just another liturgical highlighted date that passes by without an intentionality of worship, awe, grief, and celebration.

there is an artist who has assisted in the ushering in of the emotional experiences for this week. (this is not to say that the only way to meditate over the weight of holy week is with music, but along with the movement of the holy spirit, lyrics aid in the guiding of my focus). sharing music is as gorgeous as sharing a good read - thus i think everyone ought to spend some time listening to this singer/songwriter. he has incredibly poetic, colorful, and raw lyricism that draws you into a spirit of reflection. check him out: john mark mcmillian

ceasing to become an emotionless robot

2009-04-02T10:28:00.000-07:00

sometimes i think that i don't feel things like i should. which is strange for me to say seeing as i'm a fierce feeling/sensing woman. perhaps this lack of tangibility in emotions is due to the over-powering numbness of our society. by and large we are a collection of well oil robots mechanically going to and fro with our boundless daily tasks, all in vein effort to draw forth any sense of self worth. this pace of living (or dying?) leaves us with souls that reflect the grey bitterness of early winter, when the radiance of autumn as fled and all that exists are the few remaining gasps of air before the dead of the season storms in.

i am noticing the power that music has on me. with but a few strums of a 6-string or the releasing melodies from the ivories the state of my heart or mind can radically shift. one minute i can be standing in full confidence and bubbling contentment, but if a song that carries with it memories of a love lost travels its way to my listening ears, then i am burned into ashes of introspective achings. quite the opposite is true as well. if i am already buried by the blankets of the dark night all it takes is a little marley or j. johnson to medicate my despair.

if i am going to be totally honest i must expose that there are many occasions where i will play music just so i can feel something, anything. somewhere deep inside there is this fear that i am becoming just as programmed as those around me. in effort to assure myself that the emotions of life are not completely lost, i will insert a disc and allow the somberness of ray lamontagne or david gray to carry my senses wherever he wills. over and over the song will repeat, until the lyrics impregnate my longing to believe that i am a woman of vibrant sensitivity.

contemplative vocation

2009-03-30T09:40:00.000-07:00

when i went to college the first time around to study photography, i always knew in the back of my mind that the art of photography was not going to me my life vocation. rather, it was a bursting passion that i wanted to understand more of. for 2 years i learned of proper lighting techniques, the world of commercial photography, the vast artistic possibilities with photoshop, color balancing, and lived in a dark room with hardly noticeable red safe lights to guide my way from chemical to chemical. i loved every day of this radical adventure.

as i said, there was a quietly breathing intuitive understanding that photography was not going to be the main source of labor in my life. today i have created my own small and humble freelance photography business that is equally a form of relational ministry as it is an extra way to financially support myself . i am now a 5 year alum and i think i am beginning to taste what it is that god has been leading and preparing me for since the day i dared to say 'yes' to following after him. spiritual direction.

last spring i spent an afternoon strolling through encinitas with 2 of my students. we popped into a used bookstore to see if we could dig up any buried literature treasures. the girls went directly to the romance novels while i searched for the poetry section. i had to get on my knees to find the tiny corner where poetic jewels were kept, but the pain of crawling on crooked wooden planks was well worth the value of my findings. hidden in the over-powering presence of works from poe, dickenson, and whitman lay the mystical words of st. john of the cross. at this time i had never heard of him, but for one reason or another i picked him out of the crowd and opened to the middle of the book. with a few short words i was captivated.

"how tame and loving

your memory rises in my breast,

where secretly only you live,

and in your fragrant breathing,

full of goodness and grace,

how delicately in love you make me feel!"

it was the colorful lyricism of st. john of the cross that fanned the flames of my interest in the journey's of mystics and spiritual directors alike.

i am currently reading through thomas merton's book; "spiritual direction and meditation". as i turn each page that is filled with the brilliance of wisdom gathered from a life of prayer and pilgrimage, my thoughts wander to the hope that this is the sort of rhythmic ministry god is drawing me into. all through college and the years that have flowed out it it, god has been providing relationships, experiences, pains, joys, and revelations that lead me to clumsily trust this full-bodied hope of learning and living as a spiritual director.

drivin' the one

2009-03-27T22:32:00.000-07:00

poppies of orange blanket the mountains

and dress the coastal roadside

with their contagious smiling faces.

the paved snake hugs

each tight curve

that belts around the looming cliffs.

i roll the window down

letting the breeze run through my fingers.

the company of a dear friend

and my nikon draping around my neck

convinces me that

this joy

is a taste of the kingdom.

satisfaction and gratitude

drip the ink from my pen

as i cross off

"drive along the 1"

from my list of things to do.

a gander into an insecurity

2009-03-26T19:25:00.001-07:00

i spent a significant amount of time alone during the summer of 07. i was brand new to california and hadn't yet become enveloped into my present community. this was a special summer on many levels and in it existed moments of true contentment. on one particular day i spent an entire afternoon at balboa park, simply sitting under the warm sun writing and reading, and capturing with my nikon everything that gripped my attention. while soaking in that restful lazy day i had a thought.

see, there are times when i grow insecure about the quiet ways in which i operate. quite frequently i take the position of silent observer. i love to daydream and let my mind run free. this is largely due to the fact that i am an internal processor and it is this characteristic that surfaces my aforementioned insecurity. while wasting away that one afternoon in the park, i wondered; "could i ever be truly confident with my gently isolated musings while in the presence of another?" the temptation for me is to believe that people will only want to be around me if i have profound things to share, if i magnetize them with wit, or if i carry on with bewitching stories of bountiful interest.

why do i write of this today? because i am on a coastal road trip with my very dear friend laura, we are heading up to san francisco. the first leg of our trip commenced with non-stop chatter but after a while the talking subsided and i was entranced by the beauty surrounding me. silence now fills the car. though i am fully enjoying the peacefulness of our time together and relishing in the artistry of the pacific coast i can't help but wonder if laura wishes i were more of a colorful conversationalist.

here is the curve ball of the whole situation. about a month ago i was sharing with laura and a couple of our friends about this strange self-uncertainty i carry. the next day laura sent me the most encouraging and beautiful words of love i have ever received. in this note she said that i ought not feel insecure about this facet of my personality because my very presence is more than enough. she answered a deeply embedded question of doubt with the dazzling radiance of truth. truth that i am presently praying to by radically touched by once again.

things that move me

2009-03-23T10:38:00.000-07:00

there are outward expressions of trust, devotion, obedience, and desire that never cease to bring me to the beautiful place of shedding tears. when i experience these touching moments, i am living out loud the make-up of a flamboyantly pure ISFP (thank you meyer's briggs) - i am living as god created me to live. being a thorough sensing, feeling, and perceiving woman it doesn't require much to radically move my soul. a conversation with a friend, a solo walk along the cliffs, the sun on my face or a genuine embrace is all that is needed to draw me into the softening power of love. but today i speak of 2 specific decisions of bravery that are the driving force behind the movement of the holy spirit as it streaks its way down my cheeks. communion and adult baptism.

last night at church there was a lovely woman, maybe in her 60's, that made the commitment to follow after the heart of christ and she crowned this new life choice with baptism. i sat alone in the far transept of the building and watched in tender amazement the courage of this woman. her husband accompanied her to the front of the congregation, holding her hand every step of the way (he began following christ a litter earlier than she). i adored watching the husband support his wife - the joy that he carried and the respect he held for his bride was positively radiant. i was delicately overwhelmed.

in a similar fashion, the act of receiving communion stills me. as i gaze upon the line leading to the table of communion on sundays tears are sure to form in the pockets of my eyes. something full of wonder takes place when a community of people gather together to take the bread and the wine of christ.

there is an ancient jewish tradition of marriage proposals that is the foundation of my own receiving communion. when a man found a woman to whom he wished to betroth, he would construct a marriage covenant which he presented to the intended bride and her father. to see if the woman accepted the covenant, a glass of wine was poured for his beloved and he waited to see if she would take the cup and drink its proposal. if she did accept, the man would then leave her saying, "i am going to prepare a place for you. i will return for you when it is ready." while the man was preparing a room for them in his father's house, the bride was also preparing by making herself ready for his return, during this time she would wear a veil to show that she was spoken for. now that is romantic.

when i sit back and contemplate the collection of generations lining up to receive communion i meditate on the acceptance they are exuding to the marriage proposal of christ. with each hand takes the cup and drinks i can't help but cry. there is nothing more lovely than to witness such an outward expression of partnering as the bride of christ to our bridegroom.

a hint of sadness...

2009-03-09T21:11:00.000-07:00

earlier this year my boss had our youth ministry department take the strength finders test. i absolutely dig the self-discovery process and learning about those who are closest to me. taking a take a test that unveils your personal strengths was as delicious as scrounging through the minnesota twins pro shop or spending all day in the apple store. what i learned about myself is that i am (in no particular order) empathetic, positive, a learner, bold with input, and... "is that the red or the white?"... "ah, i can never remember that!".... adaptability! that's it. as i read through the descriptions of each of these strenghts i quickly realized that they were quite a perfect match to the ways in which i operate.

holding a positive outlook on pretty much everything in life, it is rare that i crumble under the weight of the negativities that swirl about our day to day routines. my tendency is to gaze at the very best in people, draw out the joy in most situations, and strive to see the beauty in the midst of ashes. this strength of positivity however, does not blanket the existence of sadness - which is the very emotion i seem to be finding myself in these past couple of weeks.

in three short months my adventure in california will be over. i will be saying goodbye to the students that i deeply love, my community, diana - who has become so much more than a roommate, my completely radical boss(es), the breath taking pacific view, and the entirety of this incredible journey of maturity.

two weeks ago my friend laura began printing out the incoming applications and resumes to those that are seeking to fill my position when i leave in june. i always knew that this job wasn't permanent and that june would eventually greet me at the door, but at the same time i never knew it would come so quickly. as laura was organizing all the papers of applicants my heart grew heavy. i sat there at my desk and began, for the first time thus far, to literally feel the pains of having to say goodbye.

i think what makes this process the most difficult is that only now are things moving from surface level to things of depth. the relationships with students that i have been investing in the past 21 months are now way past "hello my name is" and dwell in the "can i share something with you?" level. after working with my boss for 9 months i feel as though we are just now getting into a rhythm with how we operate. and i am growing comfortable and confident in the unique ways that i give and lead in youth ministry; which is guiding my students into the mystery of prayer and through a contemplative approach. it hurts to think that i am soon going to be done with all the things and people that i have invested in and received from over the past two years.

unifying events

2009-02-28T18:05:00.000-08:00

there are things in this life that unite people - strangers even; together. in the world of sports for example,e we have the super bowl, world series, and stanely cup (a biased list i must confess). these major events allure millions to turn on their televisions and numb their minds for a few hours, or worse yet, spend hundreds of dollars for bragging rights that come in the form of green plastic fold out chairs. or in the hollywood realm, we have the ocsars, emmys (are those two the same?) and whatever proclamation of "my shit doesn't stink" award there is. then we have music. what awards come with music? i don't even know. the grammy's maybe? cma's? dove awards? did i seriously just put in dove awards???? who even watches that? all of this to say, for whatever reason, epic moments that take place in this outrageously fast paced world that we live, somehow manages to slow us down and bring us under one common umbrella; even if it is entertainment based.

there is one even that i am particularly fond of. it is not one that can be found in a 32 inch black box or on the infamous red carpet. this uniting display of beauty cannot be purchased, nor sold. it is a production of paramount popularity. what i speak of is the extraordinary event of evening's sunset. here on the west coast, you will always find a crowd of people lining the cliffs and beaches below to catch sight of the cascading pastels that simultaneously soften and liven the endless sky. i too am one of the many spectators who come out to catch sight of this awesome display of beauty.

as i sit out there, gazing at the faithfulness of creation, i often wonder, "what is it that brings all these strangers together?" the majority of the surfers you find dotting the pacific aren't out there for the waves when the hour of sunset comes. they are there for community and to admire the fading blaze. all the people decorating the cliffs, they are products of the west coast. these are not tourists that have never before seen a sunset over the ocean; no, these are people who have grown up with the beach as their back yard. i love to see the people stroll in when the time of the much anticipated green flash rolls in.

another thought about these people crosses my mind. "what are they thinking?" i wonder if these people, my fellow admirer's, question creation at all as they stare out into the boundless world. do they question who made the sky to explode with the most glorious colors in the evenings and mornings? do they ever think, "?". is their existence, or god's, ever challenged with the blending of pinks, purples, and oranges? i mean, how could these weighty and stunning musings not cross their minds?

regardless of the answers, there is a response that i make up that brings a smile to my face. i imagine that this was all a part of god's intention. this whole bizarre movement of strangers uniting to catch glimpse of an everyday occurrence is the extension of our creator's handiwork. what makes me think this? well, as the sun finally says goodnight to it's adoring audience, it isn't uncommon for the spectators to break out in applause. i love this part. whether they know it or not, what we are doing - together - is praising the creator of this spectacular jewel.

ash wednesday selah

2009-02-25T14:01:00.001-08:00

my bones

they are wasting away

the sin

of my soul

is too hideous to reveal.

in silent hiding

i must remain.

but dare i

acknowledge

the veiled ugliness?

selah...

day and night

your hand

it is so heavy

crushing, pressing down

upon me.

the strength

of my flesh wilts

as in the heat

of summer's sun.

all day long

groaning seeps from

every fiber of my being.

this pain is too great.

but dare i

acknowledge

the veiled ugliness?

selah...

my eyes

grow weaker still

with the sorrow and grief

that consumes me.

the affliction

of my heart

crushes the spirit

within.

brokenhearted i remain

alone, cold, and anguished.

but dare i

acknowledge the veiled ugliness?

selah...

untiring hands

stretch forth

in the emptiness of my night.

again i refuse

your comfort to my soul

it is easier here

the familiarity of sin

has become a companion.

my silence

strengthens its deceptive

friendship.

but dare i

acknowledge

the veiled ugliness?

selah...

forsaken i have become

who can save me?

the pain

of my loneliness

strangles the light

holding me hostage

as a prisoner of inequities.

the troubles of

my heart

have conceived and filled

my life with despair.

there is only silence.

but dare i

acknowledge

the veiled ugliness?

selah...

when will i learn?!

2009-02-23T09:56:00.000-08:00

my alarm went off at 5:00 am and in a groggy morning fog, i shut it off and shut out the purpose of its clanging bell. i wasn't ready to get up. 6:30 rolled around and my eyes were cranked open in a splattered anxiousness over the fact that i slept in an extra hour and a half. flinging my covers off i hit the ground running before i stopped to say, "good morning my lord".

i drove like a bat out of hell to the gym. i don't even have a reason for rushing - it's just my default mode i guess. today's running schedule called for a short 3 miles. thank goodness, because apparently i have loads to accomplish and anything longer than that would equate to more time wasted. plowing through 3 puny miles and dashing through the weight lifting, i could hardly wait to get to the coffee shop so i could begin my real work. lent was only 2 days away and i needed to pour over my teaching series. i have an agenda here people.

after what seemed like eternity, i finally arrived to my office. (better known as the local coffee house). i work much more efficiently from the small round tables here rather than my ridiculously cluttered desk at church. before i give myself a second to pause and take in a much needed deep breath, my phone was ringing off the hook and text messages were swarming in. what is this? i opened up the word document for my lenten teaching series and drowned myself in the 6 week outline.

but i couldn't concentrate. i was annoyed. i was impatient. i was distracted. i have been awake for a lousy 3 and a half hours and already my day was as dismayed as a jackson pollock painting. what was i to do?

i shut off my phone. i closed my word documents. and then i did what i should have done the moment i woke up. i stilled myself, took one very deep breath and whispered; "good morning my lord". immediately the bindings of my overwhelming schedule began to loosen their suffocating grip from me. opening his word i was drawn to the book of mark and i found my nourishment (and comical conviction) for the day.

"He replied, this kind can come out only by prayer." ~ mark 9:20

jesus was telling his confused disciples that they were unable to release the evil spirit that lived in a young boy because they ceased to recognize that it is only though christ in them that they have the power to cast out such spirits. i failed to humble myself and embrace the truth that my teachings can only be constructed through prayer. my mentality was this: "for the past month i have been drenching prayer over this lenten teaching series. that surly is enough." oh how ignorant and prideful i can be! i must come before the lord daily. the prayers i both offered to the lord and received from his spirit yesterday or last week, or last month were strictly for yesterday, or last week, or last month. but what is for today? how could i ever have thought that i have what it takes to formulate an ash wednesday service for my students without quieting my own heart and listening for the voice of god? give me this day my daily bread, o god.

sacred disruptions

2009-02-19T09:22:00.000-08:00

you know what i love about working with youth? they are like snowflakes - no two are alike (and they are often times just plain flakes!). i lead the sophomore class during our wednesday night breakout group discussion times. this half hour of dialogue with my students is unfailingly the most unusual thread of conversations i experience through the week. the amount of rabbit trails that we walk down are far too numerous to even begin counting and they are usually trail blazed by one particular student, we will refer to him as george. i completely dig this boy and i fail miserably at understanding where it is that he is coming from, and if i am going to be really honest, i have to tell you that my patience is painfully tested when i am around him. (ah there, i admitted it!)

george is the tangible form of the over diagnosed disorder of attention. he is disruptive, loud, outrageously random, and rarely - no, never - truly enters into the foundation of our discussions. he talks about outer space, improv, movies, his rigid catholic church, crazy beasts that speak to him in his dreams, old fashion horror movies, and the list goes on and on. think of the most abstract latitude of the process of thoughts and there you will find george. all of this makes up the soft spot in my heart for him and equally fans the fast burning fuse of my tolerance.

last night we were discussing the question, "what does it mean to be a sacred being?". many of the students were articulating the special talents we posses is what tags us as sacred. while each young mind was expressing their thoughts on the matter, george was bursting at the seams with improvised jokes, movie quotes, quirky body movements, and the such. during this i encouraged the voices of the other students as they spoke while entering into a deep observation process of george. "what in the world is going on in his mind? lord grant me patience. how can i love this kid in the ways that he needs? am i a failure as a youth leader? do i tell george to can it? wwjd? (just teasing)..." it was then that george broke in and exposed the truth to the group. "we are sacred because god created us"... "have you guys ever seen steven siegal's furrowed brow?" whoa! my mouth dropped open. this kid had no idea the weight and centered'ness behind his words. i had to stop him and shower him with affirmation and draw the attention of the other students to the answer george had just subconsciously delivered.

the crazy thing is that the lord exists in the midst of all of george's vibrant peculiarities. just when i begin to think that this kid will never engage in anything serious or honest, he blows me away with the profound answer to the meaning of being sacred. george was taken aback when i interrupted his own interruptions to point out how correct he is. no doubt he is used to people pointing out his tangents and inability to take anything in life seriously. i am certain that he has people telling him all day long to be quiet or to pay attention. so i had to grab the opportunity to lavish him with praise. i told him that he is so right on. that even more than our special talents we are sacred because we are made in the likeness and image of god. i applauded him and thanked him.

george is a sacred being and god let the rest of us see that. the spirit of christ is moving and living in the people we judge to be the furthest thing from god centered. god defied my own broken understandings. god gave me patience. god showed me that by loving george i am also loving him, because he lives in george. george is the answer to the question, "what does it mean to be a sacred being?"

the deep end of a straight path

2009-02-18T13:12:00.000-08:00

my mom always says that i jump into things with both feet, that i choose to dive off the deep end rather than slowly wading my way in. i never quite understood exactly, what it was that she was talking about. i do know that i'm impulsive (i have three tattoos, a nose piercing, and many awful hair styles that prove this characteristic of mine) and many of my decisions are spontaneously ignited. i also know that i hold an overwhelming bouquet of passions. traveling, photography, writing, teaching, mentoring, running... and i try to do them all - often at the same time. but these things are not the core of what my mom is saying when she tells me "you are going to need someone to hold your pigtails while you dive into things."

as i prepare to depart california and enter into a new phase of life as a full-time college student my mind is consumed (and petrified) as to how i am going to financially provide for myself. it has taken no time at all for me to construct bountiful prospects that could serve as sources of income. as of right now, i am going to be a dog walker, barista, cocktailer, part-time youth minister, cross country coach, and a photographer. in my mind i considered these potentials as my way of responsibly approaching my future needs. another extension to my nearing end of one adventure and the commencing of another is contemplating different ways in which i can serve. my heart is filled with the desire to invest in the lives of others. with that i have prayerfully engaged in daydreaming areas that would provide opportunities for me to give. thus far i have marinated in the ideas of being an r.a. on campus, leading on campus ministries, organizing and facilitating small groups with the young women at bethel, mentoring more intentionally my former small group girls, and volunteering at whatever future church i will belong to.

to me, this all sounds like bissful potentials. i grow excited when i think of what my life is going to look like when i move to minnesota. i shared every one of these future engagements (work and serving alike) with my friend courtney during one of our marathon training morning runs and asked her if she would pray for me. my prayer request was that god would provide photography opportunities so that i can pay my way through school. much to my surprise she responded with: "no i won't pray for that. brianna, you are piling your plate already and you haven't even moved yet. you are so worried about how you are going to pay for school that you are stressing about bills that don't yet exist." ugh. she caught me...

i took this piece of adivise to the lord, and with mediation and the guiding of the holy spirit i was drawn to specific verses. each of these verses contained the word(s) highway, straight path.

"lead me in a straight path" ~ psalm 27:11

"prepare the way for the lord, make straight paths for him" ~ matthew 3:3

"make straight in the wilderness a highway for our god" ~ isaiah 40:3

through contemplation and examination i dug into the deeper meaning of these words. to make a highway or to make straight paths is to confess and repent of the sins that barracade the free-flowing movement of the lord in our lives. with this enlightenment i began to see that my vast collection of sources of income and service is only my deeply embedded need to control. to control the provision in my life. since i was 13 years old i have financially provided, in one way or another, for myself. there is this deep, ugly fear that resides in my heart that i will not be provided for. and so, in attempt to keep this fear of ever becoming a reality, i relentlessly scrounge for opportunities that will extinguish the existance of the possibility. i seek control. i seek to provide. i fail to trust.

and in the middle of all of this garbage the words of my mother come to life. i am an extremist at times. i do dive off the deep end. i am on either end of the spectrum - all or nothing - blind to the middle ground. i pick up my crushing yoke and being running (yes, running, not walking). "i can do it", i tell myself. i have been doing it for 14 years now, i know better than the lord how i need to be provided for.

so, what did i do with the surfacing of my sin? the only thing i knew i needed to do; i confessed my sin. and in doing so, i made straight a highway for my god and i carved out a straight path for him.

our vulnerable and relational god

2009-02-09T13:56:00.000-08:00

"show me your ways o lord, teach me your paths, guide me in your truth and teach me."

"one thing i ask of the lord and this is what i seek; that i may dwell in the house of the lord all the days of my life. to gaze upon the beauty of the lord and to seek him in his holy temple."

"i keep asking that the god of our lord jesus christ, the glorious father, may give to you the spirit of wisdom and revelation so that you may know him better."

"show me your face, let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet and your face is lovely."

during my prayer time this morning i was consumed with a sweetly quiet reality. the undertone of scripture was illuminated in a gently welcoming manner, thereby captivating my worship and offering spacious room to rest.

throughout scripture we are faced with boundless invitations. but invitations for what exactly? i think our western christendom has misused, abused, and distorted the word of god to fit comfortably into our life suffocating consumerist mentality. we fashion these words so that we are justified in our hunger to obtain more stuff, knowledge ("love surpasses knowlege"!), popularity, control, etc. as shoppers of the spirit we pray and seek the face of christ with deeply embedded selfish motives. we do not explore the book of truth in order to fall in love with love himself, rather we delve to gain clarity, and certainty in our lives. we are always wanting more.

but if one dares to look, to truly dissect into the envelope that holds all the invitations addressed to us; the beloved ones of christ, what you would find is the very opposite of what it is we think we need to be searching for. what we will find is the foundational desire of every human heart - a yearning that has been stifled by our counterfeit, immediate cravings. what we find is a god who is hungry for our affections and who relentlessly longs for us to receive, to ultimately receive him. this speaks of the vulnerability of christ as passionate lover who extends an invitation to his beloved to say yes to a partnership with himself.

scripture is one giant thread of beckonings from the god of love to his beloved. show me your ways o lord. the ways of your heart. the ways of your character. the ways of your very existence. teach me your path. the path that you, not my culture, chooses to walk. teach me the journeys that you embark upon, the road you travel (which is often times less). give to us wisdom and revelation so that we may know YOU better, not know more about you - but who you are. and above all things i long to gaze upon your beauty.

flourishing tranfomers

2009-02-08T15:03:00.000-08:00

transformers was one of my favorite cartoons as a kid. following close behind were teenage mutant ninja turtles, gummy bears, and jem. but the transforming power of those robots in disguise was far more alluring that the hot pink hair and sassy dress of jem and her rockers. it could have been the fact that optimus prime was my hugest childhood crush that stole my allegiance - but i think it was more of the autobots perseverance over the evil decepticons that really sucked me in. deep down my heart still belongs to optimus prime, the defender of the universe.

last week i met up with my very dear friend nate. nate and his wife candace (who is equally dear to my heart) have been a part of my life for the past 6 years and they have seen me through the good, the bad, and the cringing ugliness. as a young twenty something i embarked upon a seemingly never ending journey of healing; a pursuit of wholeness over a consuming eating disorder and the end of my first love, which left me with a demolished heart. the ministry that walked me through my struggle with body image was in partnership with the ministry nate and candace entrench their lives with. so, from the very beginning of my own wilderness voyage, these two faithful followers of christ have been with me.

nate was catching me up on what it has been like being a new father, the dynamic shift a child brings to marriage, and the direction of his ministry. i volleyed the conversation with an update on my own life learnings of what it has been like living in california, embracing the god-graced holistic healing (both in my eating struggle and the shattered pieces of a broken heart), and the anticipation i hold for what is next in my life. during a very brief pause in our gab session, nate affirmingly pronounces; "brianna, you have not only survived - you've flourished!" tears immediately swelled the pockets of my eyes and trickled down my smiling cheeks.

in the quietness of my soul i am undeniably certain of the transformation that has take place in my life due to the 3 year season of solitude christ has had me in. and in this certainty i held the secret desire for my former minnesotan community to take notice and to celebrate with me. so to hear the words "you've flourished!" flow from the mouth of a close friend was the most intoxicating dose of affirmation christ could have ever gifted me with. nate's observation is how i know (not that i didn't before - but the extra encouragement only solidifies the fact!) that the maturity and changes are true; the changes that arise only when we are willing to sit before the cross, to obey, and to follow christ wherever he takes us no matter the length of the journey.

i may not transform from an 18-wheeler into a planet saving, beefy and handsome robot (sorry, i still can't help myself); but through the power of the holy spirit, prayer, and solitude i can be taken from my young immaturity and develop into the strong and bold bride of christ.

much more than marathon training.

2009-02-05T09:24:00.000-08:00

i am in training for the may 31 rock & roll marathon in san diego. there is so much about this groundwork that intoxicates my soul. i love the sweat, the pain in my shins, knees, and achilles, and the overall buildup of mileage leading up to race day. the first marathon i ran i did solo, all 26.2 miles and every mile pounded out during the 18 weeks that preceded the race. but this time around i am running with a very dear friend and the dynamic of enduring the discipline and pain of preparation is vastly different. it is far more difficult to skip a day when you know you have someone who is going to ask you about your run - someone who is going to be holding you accountable.

thursdays are our day of rest. it is vital for any athlete in training to have a day where you allow your body to mend itself from the wrenching physical activity you have put it through the other 6 days of the week. today is thursday and i have been blasted with a harsh reality. and the shining enlightenment is this; i am a pathetic rest er. my alarm went off at the break of dawn and the first thought that greeted my mind was that i should go out for a run, even though i know full well that i absolutely need to rest. what makes it so difficult for me to put back the stops that i have so eagerly pulled out? i didn't go for a run, but my mind was still racing with the enticing voices telling me i should.

this difficulty in resting is reflective of much more than cultivating the 26.2 mile garden. in every area of my life it requires complete discipline for me to say no to busyness and choose instead to sit back and breathe deeply. during my intentional times of quietness it faithfully begins with a long and drawn out sparring match.

it is my heart battling my thoughts. my soul throws out a punch from the book of Mark - thrusting the words "come with me by yourselves and get some rest" directly into the center of my thoughts. but with biting strength my mind fights back - slapping truth with it's tempting advertisements to do more, move faster, and go further. i may be choosing rest physically, but my mind is still spinning. this wrestling match goes of for quite a long while before i am able to hush the noise and draw away into the stillness of the place where love dwells.