about having the conversation

In the past week, World Vision (probably the most established international Christian nonprofit) made the announcement that they would no longer prohibit employment to those in same-sex marriages. This afternoon, they retracted the statement, following massive and wide-spread debate over the action. 

As you can imagine, this has been a big story. 

And it has captured my attention fully - not only as a woman of faith who is daily determining what that looks like in the world, but as a human who is intrigued and concerned about the way we interact with each other. 

Quite honestly, this story has broken me. It makes me feel heavy.  

I've been reading all the articles I can get my hands on about this, and I've been thinking about it all day, and I have one million thoughts.  But I wanted to write briefly tonight, not to convince you of an opinion.  I just have a question: 

What if we valued the way we have the conversation as much as the conversation itself?

My heaviness comes from a sense that as this story is spurring discussion, we have not taken a breath before opening our mouths.  As we are responding, we are missing a true sense of intentionality.  There is little grace.  There is, however, a lot of attack and defense.  There is a my side and your side type of mentality.  There is division. I admire those who boldly stand up for truth, but I think we must also take caution about how we stand.  

When every comment section of every article on this story is filled with aggressive words against every opinion, what does that reflect?  To me, it reflects to the world that our focus is not our common Savior, but that we are willing to push away others in condemnation, all for the sake of getting it right.

It's easy sometimes, to get so caught up in the battle that we forget the cause.  But let's not forget. Let's not forget the gospel above all else.

The cross above all else.

Jesus, born for us, died for us, risen for us –

Above all else. 

These truths, yes, are worth defending. But they are also truths that are so glorious that they should become invitation.  They are meant as celebration.  They may be (and often will be) rejected, but they are not weapons used to cast out and wound.    

There are a lot of important conversations we need to have about faith and how to live it out.  They will not be easy conversations.  We will likely loose friends over these conversations, and we will be condemned, and we will be misunderstood.  But as we have them, let’s us please please remember the grace that was awarded to  us.  We do not have these conversations to be "right" over those who are "wrong".  These conversations are not about us. We have them because Jesus is above EVERYTHING, He is the goal.  It's not a my-team-won-over-your-team sort of deal.  There is no scoreboard.  There is simply the truth, which we will stumble over a thousand times.  But let's get there together.  Let's invite each other inside to look for it, hand in hand.  

I know that's hard.  But somewhere, in my heavy heart that fears division and gracelessness and condemnation, there is a hope that this is possible.  Let's try.  

about a starry-night sonnet

Have you ever had a week where your mind feels like complete gobbledigook?

This past week has been like that for me.  It's been a sort of worthless, swirly land of jumbled thoughts and to-do list's inside my head, and it definitely doesn't make me my best self.  More than once, I've been in the middle of a conversation and just trailed off and stopped talking because something I have to do later in the day comes to mind.  Not something I want to become a habit. I want to be a person who focuses on being present, whether that means focusing on a friend when we're in conversation, focusing on the Lord and what He's teaching me, or focusing on my writing and what I'm creating -- I'm learning that without the discipline to be present in each minute, life can kind of tumble out of control.  As I'm figuring that out, I'm working extra-hard to protect certain parts of my day and commit them to what I find important, especially creating things.  The 10 Minute rule has been a life-saver when I want to do something, but don't have forever.  Have you tried it?  I love hearing about those of you who are finding it beneficial!  

Anyway, that is all background to say that tonight I set aside time to write, and in the midst of feeling scattered, it just felt good.  I didn't have forever, but I had some time, and some time is sometimes good enough, you know?  As a result of my whirly-swirly brain, what I wrote was a sonnet (haven't written one of those since 4th year of college) inspired by this song I listened to today, a picture I colored in kid's church (see above -- I'm obviously an artist) and going hiking this weekend.  Go figure.  But trust me, all you spazzy-brained folks like me, your mind will thank you if you just stop and focus on one thing at a time. 

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more lovely 

Should I have diamonds on the soles of shoes,

and glide around the black above,

a thousand years of dancing wouldn’t do

to paint the sky so tenderly with love,

to scatter heavenly light against the black

and match the reaching, magnificent bounds

of starry nights that shake your plan on track

to water buds of faith in us on ground -

to, at once, make true the unknowing size

of all things, a largeness that seems too much,

to remind us, though small, we are your prize

more lovely than each star you touch. 

about 92

Tomorrow my grandmother turns 92 years old.

I find myself wanting to brag about the life she has lived and is living, about the incredible person that she is.  And in that, I'm struck by what makes someone who has lived more than 9 decades so remarkable.

My grandmother prays for me everyday.  She gives more to other people than they probably deserve. She does not complain. She lives in a constant state of optimism that isn't fake or a mask; it is honest, it is something rooted deep inside herself.  She has comforted me during my moments of heartbreak, and she has whispered in my ear that things would heal and mend. And then they would.

It's funny, the things that create a significant life.  It's not the things I often think about, like the accomplishments I'll list on my resume, or the adult-like furniture I'll acquire, or the amount of money I'll have for retirement.  Those aren't the things your grandchildren will brag about, or the things someone will remember.

Significant life is built from the day to day choosing of the harder option -- choosing joy when you could choose sorrow, choosing other people instead of yourself, choosing prayer instead of silence.

Happy birthday, Grammie -- thank you for the millions of choices that have built your beautiful life, and for how that life has made mine beautiful in return.

about the 10 Minute Rule

Last weekend, I got coffee with my dear friend Sarah and we talked about making things.  We talked about the things we want to create someday and about how to get there and about why we want to make them. It was so life-giving. I left thinking "why don't we do this more??" I say that generally --

why don't we spend more time asking questions of and talking about our creativity?  

In her book Cold Tangerines, Shauna Niequist writes "We're desperate for great storytellers, great painters, great dancers, great cooks, because art does something nothing else does." She goes on to say that each of us, as we reflect the one who made us, is a creator. I love that, because it is simple and it is true.

Creation is important.  And we all create. 

The more I think of those two facts, the more I fall in love with them.  I love the idea of a world where we are celebrating the making of things rather than the conveniences that can allow us to skip that process.  I love the idea of a world where people are not categorized into "creatives" and "non-creatives".

As a way of taking small baby steps toward that place, I'm implementing a 10 Minute Rule into my life. The rule is simple - for 10 minutes everyday, I'm going to make something.  It could be a poem, a playlist (making yours today, Maria!), a funny haiku for a friend, rearranging some bedroom shelves, a dance routine, baking a new type of cookie, etc. etc.  It can be anything where I am taking something old and breathing new life into it, or birthing something brand new that never existed before.

I'm doing it because I think that creativity is so important that I have to fight for it and protect it.  The romantic in me wants all my artistic explorations to be spontaneous explosions of genius, but I don't think it works that way.  We all, some more than others, have to learn the discipline to be creative.  We have to sloth through it when our minds feel intimidated by the work.  In the same way that we drag ourselves to the gym to maintain our bodies, let's drag ourselves deep into our creative selves.  Let's improve and maintain our God-given capabilities for creating.


PS. if you're looking for some some gems to add to your reading list on this topic, may I suggest: Walking on Water by Madeline L'Engle (I LOVE THIS BOOK with a burning passion.  Although I don't agree with much of her personal theology, L'Engle is a wildly imaginative writer (please read A Wrinkle In Time if you haven't, because until you do we can't be friends) and has some important thoughts on the process of making things; Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott (her section on Shitty First Drafts revolutionized how I write and the grace I've learned to give myself); Culture Making: Recovering Our Creative Calling by Andy Crouch (currently making my way through this one. I'm enjoying the more academic approach to why we create and how we can influence culture by our creation rather than our condemnation)