unfinished

Well...it's been a VERY long time since I've been on here. We'll see about trying to start up again.
Wrote the beginnings of...something...want to jot it down on here before I lose it...

Breathe into these sails
mend the holes
made by the white flags
of surrender

seeds

Something I have been excited about doing and learning as I go is gardening. This spring we decided to tear up the old garden at the group home and start anew. We made it an outing for the day, going to Lowe's and picking out all sorts of vegetables, flowers and plants. The whole thing was meant to be a group effort, and yet I think people just liked the idea of picking out the plants without actually doing the work. This meant that me and one other resident did all the work after leaving for my time off and finding that they remained unplanted.

With everything planted I kept thinking of more places to plant, noticing little places on the side of the house where we could grow stuff. The possibilities are endless! I don't know if I'm doing stuff right, but I'm learning as I'm going and its fun. Its fun to watch the plants grow and feel that you have some part in it.

Yesterday, I dug up some earth on the side of the house that was being wasted. Last year it was an eye sore as weeds always sprouted up and then died there. I had been trying how to take care of that spot and make it more beautiful when I remembered that we had bok choi seeds. After turning the soil and hoeing it and smoothing it out, I began to plant. I couldn't help but remember the parable (nonbiblical) of the king that tested the people by giving them soil with seeds to take care of. He gave out pots to a group and said that they return after a certain passing of days. One boy watered and watered his to no avail, nothing would grow. He looked at his peers in wonder as their plants sprouted. When the time came, they all presented their plants to the king proudly, except the one boy who humbly presented his lowly pot that only contained soil. It turns out that this was a test of honesty, and all failed except the one boy.

A few weeks ago, we talked about the parable of the talents in church. The pastor mentioned that someone had posed the question of what if the person that was given the least number of talents/currency was actually the most gifted of the servants and the master expected him to put his skills to use to make something of the little he was given? What a different perspective on the story!

I'm trying to piece together my thoughts from these two stories as it leads to questions for me. I'm thinking, how often do we almost feel pressured to have results or something to show in our lives or ministry? I think a lot, because we tend to like success or what we view as something that makes our work worthwhile. Its natural for us as humans. I recall missionaries sharing their difficulty in working in France and coming back and having very little to speak of as far as concrete success. People don't like to hear that. They had been missionaries in Africa and people loved hearing their stories of hundreds of people coming to faith. But, does God see all this the way we do? How often is he asking us to be faithful and honest with what he has given us? Does he see a different purpose for what he asks us to do? Are we ever guilty of sneaking in seeds in our soil when we freak out that nothing is growing? Maybe, he's trying to show us something different.

I fear that at times, when life is shaken up and our faith nears faltering that we look for something, anything to grab ahold of to show us that we are doing the right thing or to affirm us. We look in the wrong place. These false seeds are our idols; when we want to SEE and TOUCH something after being led by fire and cloud we build a golden calf.

So, though at times you seem to have little, have faith because you don't know what God has in mind and He can do much more through you than you can by planting your own seeds of success. We are accountable to Him in the end, so don't forge his seal of approval on your work.

potential project

Been sitting on this one for awhile, but I think I've decided that I will do some character sketches that tell the stories of the kids that I work with. I think that it would be a useful reflective tool, to help me remind myself why it is that I work with them. This job of working in a group home with teens that come from such difficult pasts can quickly get tiresome and frustrating because we get caught up in their behavior. It is a chance to take a step back and see that although they are annoying and cuss and yell at you that they are broken and have had messed up lives.

There is an issue with confidentiality that I am still mulling over. I am thinking that of course, their names will be changed and maybe some details as well. There could be some potential problems with doing this, but I don't know how it all works. (if you know anything on this, some advice?). They just have such interesting stories that they probably don't even think much about, but that we could learn from.

Brennan Manning on the prodigal

from the Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning page 189. On the prodigal son:

"I am moved that the father didn't cross-examine the boy, bully him, lecture him on ingratitude, or insist on any high motivation. He was so overjoyed at the sight of his son that he ignored all the canons of prudence and parental discretion and simply welcomed him home. The father took him back just as he was.

What a word of encouragement, consolation, and comfort! We don't have to sift our hearts and analyze our intentions before returning home. Abba just wants us to show up. We don't have to tarry at the tavern until purity of heart arrives. We don't have to be shredded with sorrow or crushed with contrition. We don't have to be perfect or even very good before God will accept us. We don't have to wallow in guilt, shame, remorse, and self-condemnation. Even if we still nurse a secret nostalgia for the far country, Abba still falls on our neck and kisses us."

Prodigal son is one of the most preached on topics but I think it is because we all identify with it in the different phases of our lives.

portrait

we try and paint
life as we see it
our self-portraits look like Picasso's--
distorted, twisted, mangled.
we couldn't ever capture
You on canvas, so
our brush strokes say--
fields of swaying gold,
kaleidescope sunrises,
untameable seas--
they are reflections
of the origin of beauty,
hidden signatures.
Yet,
our self-portraits are telling
of what we truly see
For,
if we are the image of the unseen
then my Picasso
is You.

a reflection on how we allow our imperfections and sin to weigh us down, to mar our self-image, to live in that darkness when that is not what God sees when he looks at us. he sees that we are hidden with Christ in glory, our wrongs are forgiven. we are redeemed, we are renewed. this comes in response to times where you feel as if you loathe yourself, as it is hard to see change or growth even as you strain for it and pray for it. yet, if we cannot look at ourselves in light of redemption then we are dishonoring our Creator, for we are in His image. we ultimately project ourselves on Him.

temple

This is your house
Made by man's hands
According to your blueprints
A faded picture
Of what is unseen

I doubt
You could ever reside here
Darkness has crept in
Through a crack in the window
Now it lets itself in the front door
When you arrived unannounced
I locked you in the front chamber
To keep you safe, so you wouldn't see
That unruly hazard walks free through corridors unkempt
I wanted to corral them
To usher them out the backdoor

Instead, your temple has become
a white-washed sepulcher
A haven for thieves
a nesting ground for vipers
a market place of filth, filled
with seedy cellars of unspeakable acts
a carnival of deception and false light
indulgences for sale
merchants of mercy
prophets of profit,
"Give me your soul
and I'll mend your sole"
where we present presents for your presence

How did it get this way
I beg you
to reclaim this ground
To take back what is yours

I beg you
To kick down the door
Brandishing a whip
Wielding your sword, your truth
Overturn the tables
Tear down the altered altars
and the Asherah poles
Ransack this darkness lair
Drive out the whores, the mercenaries, the tax collectors
Clean out your Father's house
of those that fall to their knees to prey
Crush the idols to other deities
Drive out the blind guides
The brood of vipers
for they tithe their spices
And forget justice
Blood of the prophets is on their hands
Blood is on my hands

This is your house
Take back what is yours
This is your house


Reading about Jesus clearing out the temple and connecting that to the scripture says our bodies are temples was powerful. It brings out all sorts of unnoticed things when we see the parallels with what angered Jesus in the temple. I think about how if Jesus were to show up, how he would respond to what he saw in His Father's house. A whole bunch of emotions are stirred up, thinking about what I would do to clean up before he got here. Then, it is horrifying to realize that the Spirit already resides here. How many altars to Baal have been built, how many Asherah poles are there? How have I misunderstood grace and justice and thought salvation is for sale? Are there things I don't even know are wrong in there and won't ever know until Jesus sends them packing? How do we turn this into powerful prayer?

I have had this in my head for almost 2 years now and just haven't felt like it comes out right, but wanted to get it down and take it as a first draft (the concept in the mind is clear and yet the words...they don't come). Suggestions welcome.

my garden

this isn't mine, but it was given to me in a vision so clear.

i survey my garden; what i see is that the soil of my heart is filled and covered with a multitude of colors. i want to show Him how beautiful it is but i leave him standing there because my eyes are continually drawn to the weeds that weave their way between the fruits of my labor. sometimes they blend in, sometimes they are visibly choking the life from the other plants as they sprout faster and quicker and absorb all the light.

not wanting him to see it that way for it seems to root in neglect, i go to work. i grab the weeds that i can see and rip them from the soil. unfortunately, they are anchored well and so the roots remain. others i see, i get a solid grip at the base and remove the weed by its roots. i see however the visible damage on the roots, evidence that remnants remain locked in the dirt.

He walks over to me and i try to get him to wait longer, to stand back. he inquires, "do you need help?" i scoff, "no! i've got this! see...!" He takes the weeds and silently approaches my garden, much to my chagrin.

screams, pleads, and yells do no good.

to my horror he squats down and begins to dig in the soil. slowly, with care, the digs up around a weed. deeper and deeper he goes, using his hands, filling his fingernails with the mire.

"no! what are you doing? please, i beg you just let me do it. i wanted to present it perfect for you!"

i rush over to him, hating to see him soiling his hands, his perfect hands for me. i grab them and pull them from the work. i expect to see a prince's hands--soft and gentle as He is the Prince of Peace. instead, i feel rough, worn hands accustomed to hard labor. dirt stains between the callouses. the scars; memories of wounds, splinters, cuts, bruises. the scars. the scars.

what i saw was that we try to uproot our weeds because we want to present ourselves to Christ as He would want to see us. we don't want him to know that they are there, so we hide and wait and wait. we then show him strictly what we want him to see. what i see is that we try and give Jesus whatever it is that we have or are going through when we don't even know how deep some stuff is rooted and so we give it to him prematurely. we have to let him IN and SEE our hearts so he can walk us through it, work it out with us. i don't know about you but there is always this fear, of letting Him see our heart, i want to get the weeds and and show him the weeds that i've uprooted and once i'm clean, then he can see what i have. but this is imperfect and will never work, we will wear ourselves out this way.

need to just start up again

I never intended to take such an extended hiatus from writing on here. I am not sure what happened. I could blame a change of environment and adjusting to that. I don't know about other writers out there, but you find a place or setting that just works for you and you can only write in that space and time. I suppose I haven't found that yet here out of my own laziness.

I do have a lot of things and ideas that I wish to touch upon...it would be kind of crazy to try and tackle it all in this post. I think the purpose of this one is to start again.

I have missed writing. You get ideas and they float in your head for awhile, but unless you do something with them or write them down the more likely they are to get lost or overturned in our streams of consciousness. It is a chance to make concrete, to make visual nebulous and drifting thoughts. To mark your inspirations so that you can go back and look on them later and see where you have gone in relation to it. This is exactly what I have needed, but have avoided these last months. How I regret it.

So here's to starting again and making an effort on other things I've thought about but avoided.