bullseye

bullseyeThey say that the word for ‘sin’ can be translated as ‘missing the mark.’
But what do you call it when you make a direct hit – on the wrong mark?
What do you call it when you strive for ‘rightness,’ rather than relationship?

What happens when I delude myself into thinking that the way to God,
Is right living, right acting, right believing?
Somehow I miss the insight that the road to rightness takes me far away
From the God who is right here, aching to embrace me, just as I am.

The bullseye of my faith is not doctrinal correctness, but love.
Or, perhaps, it is not a bullseye at all, but a sacred center.
What if I’m not supposed to strike it from afar,
But to lean back into its enfolding?

What if I have been taking aim with a bow made for strict accuracy,
With straight arrows of good intent,
When archery, itself, is not what I am here to learn?

What if I’ve not so much been missing the mark, as missing the point?

[photo by Emily Moe per cc 2.0]

Intersectional natives

 

come togetherI was born into a world of hierarchy, bureaucracy, and linear logic. To get anything done, someone had to be in charge. Things had to be intentionally built under a leader’s direction. The process was carefully controlled. So were the people. You needed ‘strong leaders’ and minions. We had no eyes to see emergence.

But the generation coming to the forefront, now, was born into a very different world. Some call them digital natives, but that term seems to focus on the facility with digital tools rather than on the capacity to imagine the deeper realities that the interconnectedness of the internet and big data have revealed.

It’s not so much a new skill set as a new world view.

Perhaps ‘intersectional natives’ might be an alternative term for those who were born into a world focused on and enlivened by the intersection of cultures, disciplines, ideas, and opportunities. They were born outside the box. Indeed, many were born into a reality that understands that the walls of those boxes where often intentionally fabricated to keep things separate – to emphasize difference.

Now, the essential focus has shifted from categories to connections.

Those of us who are not born intersectional must take care neither to try to stuff them back into our boxes, nor fear that their souls are ‘lost’ because they do not live there. We must, instead, encourage them to hold to the path of love, rather than rules. The rules may shift with the context, but the foundation of love is the essence of life. Love is life’s purpose, its path and its glorious fulfillment.

And, of course, love is about connection.

Indeed, this generation may be the one that can lead us to a better understanding of the Trinity – the reality of a God outside the box. They may help us understand that relationship is the source of reality. It is not about separate ‘persons’ but a bigger, more inclusive ‘one.’

Perhaps this will be the generation that builds bridges rather than walls.

I do hope so.

[photo by Miles Kent per cc 2.0]

no magic

magicThere is no magic.

There is only mystery.

Magic presumes a mastery of the mysterious, where certain incantations will constrain the outcome. But mystery will not be constrained.

That is good news, when mystery is the very heart of goodness.

I want to release myself to the embrace of mystery.  I just don’t know how. So, I keep trying magic. Until I give up my attempts at control, I keep the mystery at bay. Such is my quandary.

I’d pray about it, except that I keep turning prayer into an attempt at magic, an Aladdin’s lamp. Three wishes will be granted for the rubbing.

Just like to me mess up a blessing.

Aauugh!

Why won’t I learn? When you bargain with a loving God, you only cheat yourself.

[photo by Linus Bohman per cc 2.0]

Those slubs

raw silkThe mirror of my mind’s eye
Is much more flattering
Than the one framed on my bathroom door.

My imagined goodness, too,
Contains all the contemplated kindnesses,
Not just those actually done.

My projects are better when I plan them
Than when they reach completion,
With all their wrinkles and flaws.

The problem is
When I am content with imagining
Nothing really happens.

I must embrace the flaws
If I am to love the life that is,
If I am to live at all.

Like raw silk,
The slubs are part of its beauty.
They add richness and grace.

Those cracks, dear Lenard,
As you knew so well,
Are where the life gets in.

[photo by mary per cc 2.0]

quandaries with prayer

restless

When it comes to prayer,
I am like a fidgety child,
Too tired to go to sleep.
My urgencies unsettle my heart,
Crying out for a way out.

My focus is me,
And so my prayers become
An incessant prattle,
Begging and pleading
For what I want.

It’s not that my desires are wrong,
It’s just that they rivet my focus
And overwhelm my heart.
Ironic, because prayer, for so many,
Is a path to peace.

And yet the instructions for prayer:
Ask, seek, knock,
Seem to confirm that focus.
Perhaps, I can find a bit of wisdom, there:
The way out is through.

I must bring myself to prayer
And all my baggage comes with me.
Until I speak my troubles,
I can think of nothing else.
And, besides, a friend will listen to prattle.

And so I come with all my messy pleas,
And sit down beside you,
And pour them out.
And you, my Holy Friend,
You listen.

That is a start.

[photo by Joe Benjamin per cc 2.0]

in the image

not quite god

Isn’t it interesting how I keep getting things reversed?
I’m supposed to be made in the image of God …
But somehow I’ve found a way to make a god that looks like me.

… perhaps ‘interesting’ is not the right word ….

 

[photo by TheoJunior per cc 2.0]

the choice

gray choiceMy mind is pretty muddy lately
I wander in circles and find myself nowhere
Where did I put that bit of wisdom that I thought I held?

I need eyes that see – that clear the fog around me and pierce through to hope.
And yet, I have no secret in my heart to take me there.
I am bereft.

Is this where it ends?
Or where it begins?

It seems my impotent soul must make a choice –
The only power left to me –
The power to give up
Or the power to let go.

It seems the same choice, but it is not.
One leads to despair,
The other plants a seed for hope.
One leads only to ashes,
The other looks for a phoenix from the fire.

The idea of giving up
Sits on the edge of my awareness and grins it’s cruel grin,
Telling me that I might as well accept the truth of futility.
Why struggle anymore against the inevitable?
Why sacrifice if it leads to naught?
Better to hunker down and protect, as best I can,
What is still within my grasp.
It is the easy choice – requiring only the merest nod of agreement –
And the abdication of my faith.

But there is a false bluster in that specter’s grin.
It is not so confident as it seems.
It’s eyes are never smiling.
The upturned lips are really a scowl –
A mask it wears to fool the world,
Hoping to convince itself, as well.

If I am to die – and we all do –
Then I would rather die an open soul, held in relationship.
Than one curled tight around fear and despair.

And so, I release my small nothing into your grace.
And decide against despair.
I turn away from the hard, empty scowl of discouragement.
And seek the warm smile of friendship and of hope.
It is the best that I can do, today.

[image cropped from photo by Antoine K per cc 2.0]

hard things

let go
One of the hardest things to do is to let go.
It seems an abdication.
Irresponsible.

But, when I cannot actually be responsible for it all,
It may be good to let go my desperate grip.
It might actually be wise and helpful.

So, how, exactly, do I let go?
Should I move my fingers just so?
Just what is the gesture of release?
See? I step out of one quandary into another.

Perhaps, if I would just accept the gentle embrace,
And return the love to its source,
Then letting go would simply happen.

Ok … so, how do I do that?
Again around the circle.
Dancing with the quandaries,
Rather than your grace.

Yep, letting go is a hard thing.
As hard as I can make it.

Did I just hear you chuckle?

[photo by Garrett Charles per cc 2.0]

The Other Cheek

longing for light… I say to you, offer no resistance to one who is evil. When someone strikes you on your right cheek, turn the other one to him as well. If anyone wants your tunic, hand him your cloak as well. Should anyone press you into service for one mile, go with him for two miles. Give to the one who asks of you, and do not turn your back on one who wants to borrow. – Matthew 5

What kind of good news is this? Don’t resist? Let the bad guys have their way? In fact, give them even more than they ask? Geez!

Get real! If someone busts my chops, I’m not gonna hang around and let them do it again. I’ll fight back or I’ll leave and plot my revenge.

How do you think you’ll win by letting the bad guys have their way?!?

Oh.

I remember now. That cross thing.

Surely you don’t expect me to follow that path. Surely . . . This is so totally bassackwards. I think I’ll just sit down here in the dirt and sulk. I mean, really!

Really? Can you really mean that I should give myself to abuse and let it go . . . and let it go, again? (It really does seem wrong, doesn’t it? I mean not even just selfishly foolish, but bigger picture foolish, too? Doesn’t it?)

Where are your eyes? Mine are too blind to see . . .

I have been struck across the face. Slapped silly, I guess.  Help me know how I should respond. It seems so wrong …

Can you take this half-baked prayer and breathe life into it? Into me?  I do hope so.

Amen.

6 16 08

[photo by Christina VanMeter per cc 2.0]

first step toward wisdom

step oneMy brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of any kind, consider it nothing but joy, because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance; and let endurance have its full effect, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking in nothing.

If any of you is lacking in wisdom, ask God, who gives to all generously and ungrudgingly, and it will be given you. But ask in faith, never doubting, for the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, driven and tossed by the wind. – James 1:2-7

My brothers AND sisters, you say,
You of the ancient patriarchy.
Evidence of your own wisdom.

So … I ask, as you ask me to, for wisdom
But I don’t know how to do so without doubt.
Second guessing is second nature for me.

To believe enough to find joy in trial?
To let it test my mettle
And produce endurance, maturity, completion?

Your idea of ‘lacking nothing’
Seems pretty different from what I had in mind.
I’m wanting you to change the world – not me.

Yet, I am left with a decision:
Settle into discouragement, or find the joy.
Perhaps, that realization is the start of wisdom.

Perhaps the path will show the way.
Perhaps taking the first step is what faith means.
Hope takes my hand. Joy stands beside her.

We step together.

[image cropped from photo by In Transit per cc 2.0]