Category: life as we know it (Page 3 of 4)

Soaked

Very porous, we humans are,” she said. One of my two wise yogi gurus made the jump between the Humans of New York photo I had shared and what it means to live faithfully.

Photo via Humans of New York. Follow him on Facebook and Instagram.

This is not my photo. Find more beauty via Humans of New York. Follow him on Facebook and Instagram. My life has been better since I’ve read these. life of faith. The picture of an older man included a quote from him, saying: life of faith.

The picture of an older man included a quote from him, saying:  “If you feed your children with food earned from corruption, they will be corrupt. If you feed your children with food earned from honesty, they will be honest.” I promise, this isn’t just another post about Monsanto or eating local or those flags I love to wave. The man’s wisdom, and my friend’s revelation, bears a deeper truth. We become what we take in. The Bread of Corruption means we turn our face from the people who hurt. When we do that repeatedly, we become corrupt ourselves.

As Jesus said, where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

Nothing in this world is “just something.” You don’t read “just” a book – the story informs your own story and changes the way you see the world. You don’t watch “just” a show. The characters shape your view of people and relationships. You form your view of the world through everything in your life because it becomes your baseline of “normal.” When we are continually exposed to violence, we begin to believe that violence is a way of life and unavoidable – ask any gang member. When we steep ourselves in malls and magazines, we believe handbags and couture are required for normal functioning. We are indeed so porous. We will take in anything around us. I believe that if anyone finds contemporary American Christianity hallow, perhaps it’s because little is spoken in churches about our propensity to take in what is around us beyond the classic sins of sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll. (Perhaps that’s because our churches tend to corporately absorb the culture in its own sterilized way, but alas, that’s a different post.) Spiritual living can come up short when we try to wash the wrong side of the cup. When we understand our sponge-like nature, we can then make sure we’re in direct contact with that which we want to embody. Love. Joy. Peace. Patience. Kindness. Goodness. Faithfulness. Self-control. We speak of these things as tasks to accomplish – “grow more patient.” But we cannot. We can expose ourselves to patience. We can watch others live patiently. We can show gratitude and acknowledge the ways in which others bear patience with us. We look back and realize we have become more patient than we were last year. If we crave a deeper spirituality, a deeper faith, let us begin with how shallow we are. Start to ask how much of God’s spirit we intentionally expose ourselves to each day. Make a practice of taking of our shoes. If we want to bear more of the image of Jesus, we must expose ourselves to Jesus – through the scriptures, through the Spirit and through those whom we share this celestial ball. Like our bread, we choose how we fill our spirits.

From the Archives: What does 9/11 have to do with Jesus?

My FB feed erupted in people remembering a day that has been etched in our brain. We all recall where we were, who we were with and our reactions to the towers falling. Each year we turn our hearts and our memories to those closest to the horror and revisit their stories.

It’s a natural phenomenon, to remember and relive, even such horrific events. Our country bore a tragedy together which shaped us individually and as a nation. We tell one another, “Never forget” but do we know why? Not just to honor the victims, though they deserve a place in prayer and reflection. But I think remembering 9/11 goes deeper than a national holiday. I think our experience of September 11th exposed something we didn’t realize had anything to do with the message of Jesus.
After reflecting on Esther and Daniel, I let it sink in how they were living in captivity, mastered by another people group and government. I realized how within the story of the people of God lies a story of struggle against control and power and oppression. Being a 21st century American, it’s a piece of the Gospel puzzle that I – we – simply cannot fully wrap our minds around.
God begins his work with Abraham, promising him a nation and a land. A place to call home. A land where he would reap what he sewed, and would eat what he planted. Throughout the story of Issac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses and Joshua the people of God journeyed toward what they hoped would be sovereignty.  Fast forward and they finally find themselves in the Promised Land. It’s good for a while, until the people forget God. So the Babylonians move in, take over and haul them out of their own country to be slaves.
All of this makes for great story behind a pulpit or on a flannel board, but I just don’t think we completely fathom what was happening. Another country, another king, marched in, killed a bunch of their men, tore families from their homes and their gardens and their schools and their neighbors, and took them someplace else so they could be servants. Even after the nation of Israel is allowed to return, remnants don’t make it back, such as Esther.
We were born into freedom. I’m not much of a flag waver, but I think those of us who follow Jesus owe our predecessors a bit more regard than what we often realize. And not just those who fought and are fighting; but a realization that we are living a part of the Gospel promise. 
American Christianity lacks a firm understanding of how the gospel of Jesus freed us not just from sin (though it did) but it paved the way to living free of a master. Unlike Daniel and Esther, we live free of fear from someone mandating we bow down to anything other than what we believe to be true. We are truly able to serve only God.
The events of 9/11 shook us because it introduced to our generation the concept that freedom is not a guarantee. We can be tormented and attacked. Someone could – and did – cross our boundaries and threaten the promises we often take for granted.
For the people of God, they lived 9/11 occurrences frequently. Some, for their entire existence, lived under a foreign regime. Don’t you suffer shortness of breath to think about what if Al Quida had won and conquered? What if bin Laden had somehow gained control? That same anxiety is what generations and generations of people woke up to each and every day. I’m sure somewhere, some still do. 
I believe imagining those situations will lead us in the direction of the fullness of what Jesus did. His entire life was under Roman rule. He spoke of power and authority and freedom and love because it was very real to his situation.
Nowadays we cannot fathom what he really meant because we have no collective memory of such a life. So we align our Biblical freedoms to that of freedom from sin, freedom from legalism and a very moralist vein emerges. And while those things are true (we are free from sin and legalism), it is also true that we are free from oppressive powers.
September 11th needs to remain “forever in our hearts” because it scratched an old wound we forget existed. But we cannot stop there: if we are living the hope of so many generations, a freedom from oppression, then what will we do with it?
Right now we take that freedom and argue about taxes and medical terminology. And while those discussions have its place, I believe followers of Jesus should get a bit more serious about using our place of privilege (much like Esther and Daniel) and go about the work of extending the Kingdom of God to others. And not just in a have-a-tract, say-a-prayer, have-a-blessed-day kind of way. And certainly not using a typical American, because-our-way-is-the-best-way approach. If the freedom from oppression can and did become reality, then we have to believe that the rest of what Jesus said could be true.
Perhaps we need to get serious about the things which continue to torment God’s beloved in the rest of the world. Perhaps our little city on a hill should shine its light into the evils that plague other places, rather than just sitting so cozy in our safe little haven. And not politically (because I firmly believe that God didn’t grant us freedom so we can occupy someone else), but living justly, loving mercy and walking humbly in the many large and small ways that can change lives everywhere.
**Patriot Day is a political, American holiday – no matter one’s faith belief. I’m not taking something that belongs to everyone in the US and saying it’s only for Christians. I am saying that those of us who follow Jesus need to also realize that the events of 9/11 have deeper implications. I’m saying that when we cry watching the footage for the 11th time it’s for a reason – and not only an American one, but a human one, one that Jesus spoke to. All faith beliefs belong to our occasion of remembering.

Focal points: Cucumbers and Vrksasana

Our garden consists of 82 tomato plants, 6 green pepper plants, a few hot peppers and just a couple vines of cucumbes. However, those cukes are hearty. My most recent plucking yielded 15 new ones, and I had just checked about 2 days ago.

Picking cucumbers is tricky business. First, the dang things are prickly. DO NOT RUB YOUR HANDS TOGETHER. Ouch. Also, the part that connects them to the vine: strong stuff. (I’m contemplating how to use cucumber stem as sticky tack so that Miss M’s foam letter O will stay on her wall, because the 3m squares clearly are not working.)

(If there is a secret to cucumber harvesting I’m clearly not aware of, I beg of you to share your secrets. I will pay you One Million Dollars Pickles.)

Not only do cucumbers have the evolutionary survival tactic of remaining green while ripe and thus blending in with surroundings, but their choice of placement is spot on. I have discovered it’s nearly impossible to see a cucumber by looking at the plant head-on. Instead, you have to rummage around, pretending to look for tomatoes and steal a glance over and notice that a nearby vine has 14 green prolate spheroids dangling alongside you. You have to get on the ground and look up. I suppose one could even begin digging up the garlic heads and see a cucumber sprouting out easier than if you went up to the vine and looked straight at it.

Just when you think you’re done – the heavy bucket protruding and you’re wondering if the neighbors locked their car doors, because if not, you’re dropping in a minimum of 5 cucumbers and a quart of tomatoes –  you see 4 more. Just hanging out, in what would appear to be clear view. Except, it’s not, if you’re looking directly at the plant.


Not long ago I took a yoga class with a special guest teacher who had us trying a variety of standing balance poses. Note: balance poses are Yoga’s gift to us so we can practice not being competitive. If you think you’re a bad ass yogi, start standing on one leg and swinging the other one around.

As an exercise, she had us in Tree pose and asked us to set our gaze across the room on a specific focal point. By narrowing our eyes, it becomes easier to root into the ground and maintain balance. Then she asked us to look at a spot on the floor right in front of us. I was not the only one to topple over.

It turns out we tend to loose our sense of balance when we keep a shortsighted focus.


The rhythms of summer have nearly evaporated. JJ returned to setting an alarm and prepping the coffee the night before, as if the coffeepot would ever wake up before me. Though my own 2 school kids have another week at home, we’ve thrust ourselves into school-year pace. And I’m exhausted.

Historically, I’ve kept a sacred 1.5-2 hour afternoon window of stillness, that precious time in which work is produced and sanity recovers itself. However, this autumn I have 2 older children who outgrew naps. They still head upstairs to “rest” but at most I can get an hour of tranquility before they just start finding new ways to annoy from across the house.

It is so easy to look at life right now and wonder how in the world it’s all going to happen this year. The school stuff. The church stuff. The work stuff. The spending quality time and soaking in precious young days with my children stuff. Trips to the museum, trips to the zoo, trips to friends houses and trips to grandparents’ homes. And then there’s the eating. All of the food that I seem to be cooking all of the time. This morning I made pot full of oatmeal, a dozen muffins and one kid drank half my smoothie while another also devoured the last bowl of Rice Krispies. By the time we finally finished breakfast, someone asked if it was time for lunch.

If I zoom in and only look at life right in front of me, chances are, I will fall over. Balance is laughable. Looking at our state of life right now, head-on, I will see no fruit – only a mess of vines and leaves growing in 15 directions, threatening to suffocate my tomatoes.

A step back and slightly to the side and I see the bigger picture. I see children enjoying days together. I see play. I see a family enjoying healthy dinners, sitting around the table together and talking about the day. When you turn off the zoom, you don’t see splashes of pizza sauce on the counter top or the toy dishes spilled out of the basket for the 19th time.

The Motherhood Balancing Act requires us to firmly plant one foot, strengthening muscles you didn’t know existed (which will be sore after the first few uses) while you stretch and move the other leg. It’s a tug and pull while remaining rooted. We’re forced to be in the moment, dealing with each day as it comes but we often forget another gift: the view from the big picture.

From time to time, pulling back and remembering how we’re not just filling days but building a life, gives us the strength we need to stay firm. We take a deep breath, we look at another spot across the room and enjoy the surprise of finding yet another treat ripening right in front of us.

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