I moved and then i left my house looking like a tornado hit to go to the beach. incredible silly. so good for my soul.
it was quite lovely to be with my student. and i love road trips.
but i really think the beach is one of the Lord's most lovely creations.
One of my favorite moments was when my friend katherine looked up from her book and said "that was weird." and I knew that she was talking about the particularly long stretch of silence from a change in rhythm of the waves. extra long swells.
I just love the life slows down enough at the beach to notice a stretch of silence. to be caught off guard by the change in rhythm of the waves.
also we played the license plate game with a fervor I've never known. The ridiculousness of it is counting for my 25 before 25 goal of taking a road trip and stopping at a ridiculous landmark along the way. we were on a road trip and I will not soon forget the way we both screamed when we saw a Washington plate on the truck we passed. also i slowed to a near stop on the highway to try and catch one that looked unique.
life is beautiful and i'm grateful for little moments of pause to appreciate it.
April 18, 2011
o heyyyyy
about a year later, i'm returning to my blog at the perfect time. Because I just reread what I wrote for Good Friday last year and I need those words more than ever. what a gift. I'm always grateful for those rare moments when the Spirit stirs words in us that lends a power that's beyond anything I can stir on my own. I knew this was one of those times last year, but re-reading those words was almost ridiculous. as I'm struggling so much to live trusting in God's goodness these days. I forget the extravagance of Christ's love as I'm convinced God's withholding something good from me.
I'm remembering names of Jesus.
Good Shepherd.
Provider.
In Jesus’ provision and words to Mary and John I find an invitation. There’s an invitation for me, for us, to trust deeply in the extravagant, humble love of Christ. It’s a risk to believe that the Lord’s love is so mysteriously wasteful that He steps into my grief, my pain, and my hurt.
Trusting Jesus is such a moment by moment task, invitation, challenge, risk for me these days. I start my day choosing to worship. And within moments I am wrecked with anxiety, convinced that the universe is crashing in around me. I unclench my fists, and remember God's goodness again. Over and over again.
And yet, my heart is being swept up in love for the One who bottles up every tear I cry. The One whom I know and am known by. The One who is infinitely good. The One who never changes.
There's a refrain often repeated in Scriptures along the vein of "where can I hide from You"....I've been thinking about it often. Where else would I go? I'm really bad at consistently trusting Jesus, but what else can I do? Live with clenched fists? Live by my own plans? I have a fickle heart, but I can't wander for long. I know this, God is rich in mercy, full of goodness, and extravagant in His love. Ultimately, I can't choose anything but trusting in that. So moment by moment I'll open up my hands, breathe, ask the Spirit to guide me, and trust in the Provider. Even when as my friend recently said "it seems as though He delights in taking from us the desires of our hearts." He never changes, and He is good. Clinging to the mystery of that goodness tonight....
I'm remembering names of Jesus.
Good Shepherd.
Provider.
In Jesus’ provision and words to Mary and John I find an invitation. There’s an invitation for me, for us, to trust deeply in the extravagant, humble love of Christ. It’s a risk to believe that the Lord’s love is so mysteriously wasteful that He steps into my grief, my pain, and my hurt.
Trusting Jesus is such a moment by moment task, invitation, challenge, risk for me these days. I start my day choosing to worship. And within moments I am wrecked with anxiety, convinced that the universe is crashing in around me. I unclench my fists, and remember God's goodness again. Over and over again.
And yet, my heart is being swept up in love for the One who bottles up every tear I cry. The One whom I know and am known by. The One who is infinitely good. The One who never changes.
There's a refrain often repeated in Scriptures along the vein of "where can I hide from You"....I've been thinking about it often. Where else would I go? I'm really bad at consistently trusting Jesus, but what else can I do? Live with clenched fists? Live by my own plans? I have a fickle heart, but I can't wander for long. I know this, God is rich in mercy, full of goodness, and extravagant in His love. Ultimately, I can't choose anything but trusting in that. So moment by moment I'll open up my hands, breathe, ask the Spirit to guide me, and trust in the Provider. Even when as my friend recently said "it seems as though He delights in taking from us the desires of our hearts." He never changes, and He is good. Clinging to the mystery of that goodness tonight....
August 19, 2010
empty.
well it's been an eternity since my last post, and just when i decided i was not a blogger, my desire has been rekindled.
last night i was reminded of how i need to make art. rainer marie rilke in "letters to a young poet" asks the question "must you write?" I've talked about and meditated on that question quite a bit..... must you create? and if you must then do it. with all your heart and soul. (that's the general gist of the letter Rilke writes.) The need, desire, impulse to create has "spread its roots into the very depths of [my] heart."
so anyhow, i keep remembering that I need to incorporate little experiences of creating, whatever that may look like, if i "don't have time" (ugh. that's another blog post, eh?) to make an extensive piece of art.
today i was sitting in a difficult conversation, wanting it to be over, feeling quite drained. and i felt struck by the art in the every day. my surroundings matched my insides in the most perfect way.
last night i was reminded of how i need to make art. rainer marie rilke in "letters to a young poet" asks the question "must you write?" I've talked about and meditated on that question quite a bit..... must you create? and if you must then do it. with all your heart and soul. (that's the general gist of the letter Rilke writes.) The need, desire, impulse to create has "spread its roots into the very depths of [my] heart."
so anyhow, i keep remembering that I need to incorporate little experiences of creating, whatever that may look like, if i "don't have time" (ugh. that's another blog post, eh?) to make an extensive piece of art.
today i was sitting in a difficult conversation, wanting it to be over, feeling quite drained. and i felt struck by the art in the every day. my surroundings matched my insides in the most perfect way.
April 4, 2010
Happy Easter!!
For Good Friday one of the ways my church reflects is through meditations on the seven last words of Christ
I was asked to do a reflection and thought I'd share it here....
Jesus saw his mother and the disciple he loved standing there; so he said to his mother, "Woman, here is your son." Then he said to the disciple, "Here is your mother." And from that time the disciple took her to live in his home. (John 19:26-27)
The presence of Jesus’ mother here reminds us of the fleshy-ness of the Incarnation. His experience of family adds to the humanity of his experience on earth. We are reminded that Jesus was a real human being, a man who had once been a boy who had once been carried in the womb of his mother. The Light of the world took on the darkness of the womb. The Word become flesh was mute for nine months. The humble love that drove Christ to empty himself and enter the world as a child is the same love that sends him to the cross.
The presence of Mary also reminds us of the immense grief that Mary and John must have experienced. I cannot imagine the horror of watching one’s son in that immense pain. Once again I’m reminded of Christ’s birth, as shepherds spread the word of the birth of the King, angels sang, and Mary “treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.” I wonder if she was remembering those days in this moment, continuing to ponder these things in her heart as she looked at Jesus upon the cross. And Jesus, in the midst of His pain, chooses to step into their grief. Out of his love for them He provides a new family. He acknowledges their pain & grief and provides for them. In the kingdom of the crucified one, the lonely are not left to suffer alone. Amidst Christ working out the redemption of the whole of creation, He also acknowledges the grief of John and Mary. It’s because of his humble, fleshy love that he is able to step into that grief, for He too once wept for a friend’s death. When Jesus wept for his friend, Lazarus, in so many ways those tears were a waste. He knew his capacity to raise his friend from the dead, and it goes against reason and rationality for Jesus to have sat and wept. Those tears were extravagant. It’s that same kind of extravagance that we see here. As Christ is at work providing salvation for the entire world, He provides for and steps into the grief of these two people. It is a waste for Him to pour such love out for these two individuals. It’s extravagant for Him to see them—to look at them with love and see their pain.
This radical, humble, extravagant love is what so shapes John‘s identity—the disciple Jesus loves. Out of the twelve disciples, John is the only one we see with Jesus at the cross. While the other disciples have run away in fear, the disciple Jesus loves is sitting at the foot of the cross. There for Jesus to say to him, “Here is your mother.” These words stir something in me, a deep desire to be the faithful disciple that Jesus sees standing at the cross. To so identify as Jamie—the disciple Jesus loves that I would trust Him and allow His perfect love to drive out fear. For it’s that perfect love that drove Him to enter into our world, live the life of a servant, and submit to death, even death on a cross.
In Jesus’ provision and words to Mary and John I find an invitation. There’s an invitation for me, for us, to trust deeply in the extravagant, humble love of Christ. It’s a risk to believe that the Lord’s love is so mysteriously wasteful that He steps into my grief, my pain, and my hurt. That just as He redeemed the entire creation, He has redeemed me. As I sit with that love, and identify myself as the disciple Jesus loves, I believe that love will motivate us, to be the disciple that pursues rugged faithfulness rather than running away in fear. “Jesus saw his mother and the disciple he loved standing there,” and so he spoke to them. Jesus’ love on Calvary sees us, whispers to us, beckons us to trust, and says that His love is capable of transforming our broken hearts. Our hearts can be swept away in a deep trust and knowledge that we are the one Jesus loves.
I was asked to do a reflection and thought I'd share it here....
Jesus saw his mother and the disciple he loved standing there; so he said to his mother, "Woman, here is your son." Then he said to the disciple, "Here is your mother." And from that time the disciple took her to live in his home. (John 19:26-27)
The presence of Jesus’ mother here reminds us of the fleshy-ness of the Incarnation. His experience of family adds to the humanity of his experience on earth. We are reminded that Jesus was a real human being, a man who had once been a boy who had once been carried in the womb of his mother. The Light of the world took on the darkness of the womb. The Word become flesh was mute for nine months. The humble love that drove Christ to empty himself and enter the world as a child is the same love that sends him to the cross.
The presence of Mary also reminds us of the immense grief that Mary and John must have experienced. I cannot imagine the horror of watching one’s son in that immense pain. Once again I’m reminded of Christ’s birth, as shepherds spread the word of the birth of the King, angels sang, and Mary “treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.” I wonder if she was remembering those days in this moment, continuing to ponder these things in her heart as she looked at Jesus upon the cross. And Jesus, in the midst of His pain, chooses to step into their grief. Out of his love for them He provides a new family. He acknowledges their pain & grief and provides for them. In the kingdom of the crucified one, the lonely are not left to suffer alone. Amidst Christ working out the redemption of the whole of creation, He also acknowledges the grief of John and Mary. It’s because of his humble, fleshy love that he is able to step into that grief, for He too once wept for a friend’s death. When Jesus wept for his friend, Lazarus, in so many ways those tears were a waste. He knew his capacity to raise his friend from the dead, and it goes against reason and rationality for Jesus to have sat and wept. Those tears were extravagant. It’s that same kind of extravagance that we see here. As Christ is at work providing salvation for the entire world, He provides for and steps into the grief of these two people. It is a waste for Him to pour such love out for these two individuals. It’s extravagant for Him to see them—to look at them with love and see their pain.
This radical, humble, extravagant love is what so shapes John‘s identity—the disciple Jesus loves. Out of the twelve disciples, John is the only one we see with Jesus at the cross. While the other disciples have run away in fear, the disciple Jesus loves is sitting at the foot of the cross. There for Jesus to say to him, “Here is your mother.” These words stir something in me, a deep desire to be the faithful disciple that Jesus sees standing at the cross. To so identify as Jamie—the disciple Jesus loves that I would trust Him and allow His perfect love to drive out fear. For it’s that perfect love that drove Him to enter into our world, live the life of a servant, and submit to death, even death on a cross.
In Jesus’ provision and words to Mary and John I find an invitation. There’s an invitation for me, for us, to trust deeply in the extravagant, humble love of Christ. It’s a risk to believe that the Lord’s love is so mysteriously wasteful that He steps into my grief, my pain, and my hurt. That just as He redeemed the entire creation, He has redeemed me. As I sit with that love, and identify myself as the disciple Jesus loves, I believe that love will motivate us, to be the disciple that pursues rugged faithfulness rather than running away in fear. “Jesus saw his mother and the disciple he loved standing there,” and so he spoke to them. Jesus’ love on Calvary sees us, whispers to us, beckons us to trust, and says that His love is capable of transforming our broken hearts. Our hearts can be swept away in a deep trust and knowledge that we are the one Jesus loves.
March 11, 2010
eeeeek
It's almost been a month since my last post.
That would be because this one time I got a concussion, took students to Jubilee, and then got sick. Basically the month of February was a complete blur for me. I really hope to never feel like that again.
I (re)learned a lot about myself. I was reminded how much I love to do things by myself. how much i love to pretend that I am the god of my universe. that i'm super self-sufficient and i can do everything. i love to find my identity in being articulate, smart, and good at my job. i like to do what i want, when i want. and all of that is super annoying to say, but let's be honest, it's how I live.
So I got a concussion, couldn't think, articulate myself well, and I shouldn't have been doing the things that I was trying to do. Apparently a concussion is a serious brain injury, who knew? it was actually pretty painful to ask for help and admit over and over again that i couldn't do things.
and really that's not the person I want to be. so i'm trying to learn from the month of blurryness. I'm trying to step forward in the radical acts of asking for help, finding strength in weakness, and continuing to lean into the grace of Christ.
Jubilee 2010 was delightful, and now that my brain is not bruised I look forward to sharing more soon. :)
That would be because this one time I got a concussion, took students to Jubilee, and then got sick. Basically the month of February was a complete blur for me. I really hope to never feel like that again.
I (re)learned a lot about myself. I was reminded how much I love to do things by myself. how much i love to pretend that I am the god of my universe. that i'm super self-sufficient and i can do everything. i love to find my identity in being articulate, smart, and good at my job. i like to do what i want, when i want. and all of that is super annoying to say, but let's be honest, it's how I live.
So I got a concussion, couldn't think, articulate myself well, and I shouldn't have been doing the things that I was trying to do. Apparently a concussion is a serious brain injury, who knew? it was actually pretty painful to ask for help and admit over and over again that i couldn't do things.
and really that's not the person I want to be. so i'm trying to learn from the month of blurryness. I'm trying to step forward in the radical acts of asking for help, finding strength in weakness, and continuing to lean into the grace of Christ.
Jubilee 2010 was delightful, and now that my brain is not bruised I look forward to sharing more soon. :)
February 12, 2010
the blizzard of 2010!!
well it's been a snowy few days here!
i've been drinking lots of coffee & hot cocoa, hanging out with students, finishing up a little decoration project, and getting a concussion. ya know the usual little blizzard activities.
the icicles outside of my living room window are insaneeee. i love how much the snow bonds neighbors. sharing shovels, battling the snow together, etc.
the snow has meant lots of time inside, so i've been baking and finishing up my little winter love decorations.
each of the hearts has some thoughts on love--romantic and otherwise--to make me smile.
"The more I think it over, the more I feel that there is nothing more truly artistic than to love people." (van gogh)
always hopes.
the other night after returning home from campus, I was slightly distracted walking home, and fell down some concrete steps. Now it all happened so fast that i didn't realize at first that i blacked out after hitting my head. I quickly realized it when i had all the signs of a concussion--dizziness, dilated pupils, pounding head, weird vision--super fun. so i was indeed concussed, and hurt my back too. hilarious.
me, post-concussion
unfortunate timing since i'm looking forward to a crazy week prior to bringing students to the Jubilee Conference. Fortunately I have really great students who will shovel my car out, and are eager to help me out when I need it this week.
i've been drinking lots of coffee & hot cocoa, hanging out with students, finishing up a little decoration project, and getting a concussion. ya know the usual little blizzard activities.
the icicles outside of my living room window are insaneeee. i love how much the snow bonds neighbors. sharing shovels, battling the snow together, etc.
the snow has meant lots of time inside, so i've been baking and finishing up my little winter love decorations.
each of the hearts has some thoughts on love--romantic and otherwise--to make me smile.
"The more I think it over, the more I feel that there is nothing more truly artistic than to love people." (van gogh)
always hopes.
the other night after returning home from campus, I was slightly distracted walking home, and fell down some concrete steps. Now it all happened so fast that i didn't realize at first that i blacked out after hitting my head. I quickly realized it when i had all the signs of a concussion--dizziness, dilated pupils, pounding head, weird vision--super fun. so i was indeed concussed, and hurt my back too. hilarious.
me, post-concussion
unfortunate timing since i'm looking forward to a crazy week prior to bringing students to the Jubilee Conference. Fortunately I have really great students who will shovel my car out, and are eager to help me out when I need it this week.
February 9, 2010
beautiful music
two weeks ago i made a little road trip to kent to be apart of the CD release show of some dear friends in the band Bethesda.
it was one of the most incredible shows I've ever experienced.
i am so proud of them for continuing to make such beautiful music.
their music is such a powerful expression of life, beauty, love, and experiences with God. there was one point in the show when they were singing "let these chains break free" and we were all dancing that was incredibly moving. the last song was a gigantic party, full of dancing, amazing music, so much love in the room--i almost cried from the beauty of it all.
i woke up the next morning and knew that i'd had a taste of shalom.
taste for yourself. you can buy the new album "Love in a Time of Tra La La" on itunes now!
it is such a gift to call these folks friends and i feel grateful for the ways God moves in and through them and the music they create.
it was one of the most incredible shows I've ever experienced.
i am so proud of them for continuing to make such beautiful music.
their music is such a powerful expression of life, beauty, love, and experiences with God. there was one point in the show when they were singing "let these chains break free" and we were all dancing that was incredibly moving. the last song was a gigantic party, full of dancing, amazing music, so much love in the room--i almost cried from the beauty of it all.
i woke up the next morning and knew that i'd had a taste of shalom.
taste for yourself. you can buy the new album "Love in a Time of Tra La La" on itunes now!
it is such a gift to call these folks friends and i feel grateful for the ways God moves in and through them and the music they create.
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