Live Out Light

 Jay and I were talking about Jesus as a baby, and how did that work? At what age did he have awareness of who he was? I actually have no idea, but it is something to wonder over. Jesus, wordless and in a diaper. Being cared for, cleaned, and fed by human hands.  At a ripe old age, we will eventually revert back to our baby selves, but in old bodies. I saw this with my Mema. Age and dementia took her away piece by piece.  I remember wondering where the rest of her was. Was her spirit still there? Was she trapped inside or was she just slipping away, and how much of ourselves do we shed, what is left that goes on?  When she could still shower on her own I remember standing outside the bathroom door just listening, making sure all was well. When she got out  of the shower she was crying "Oh God, oh Lord, please help me. Please Jesus help me. I am so tired." Over and over again. It was so sad. So much of her privacy had been taken from her that I just stood and let her have her

 Christmas is such a busy season.  I was thinking about what to say for the welcome at church tomorrow and my brain is frazzled and multi-tasking.  Presents and plans and gatherings.  Opportunities for service. Making sure it all gets into the calendar. Wrapping and cooking. All beautiful gifts of the season.  But, So. Very. Busy. And I am a person that loves white space much more than a full calendar.   Baby Jesus we are told, was born in a manger, no room in the Inn. From what I understand about that time period, mangers were actually extensions of the home, often a lower level where animals were kept. This means someone did make space and offered what they had to welcome Mary and Joseph.  Jesus came into the world via imperfect hospitality. For many of us, imperfect hospitality is just about all we have to offer this time of year, and I really think it is a beautiful gift.  This Christmas, I am trying to throw out perfection and embrace the messiness. Remember that Jesus both extend

  I love dance.  For me it is equal parts worship and fun, spiritual expression. The way I feel most alive as my spirit and body come together. Movement for me is holy and healing. It is one way God replaces my garments of grief with clothes of joy.  These past two years, our collective world has been enveloped with death and suffering. Our country specifically has experienced political polarization and it seems that we have moved further from each other, retreating into our own tiny islands of isolation (my personal coping strategy) or lashing out via our social platforms.  I have often forgotten to dance. Stopped listening to the music of beauty and truth, stopped looking for what is right and good and true. These things we must slow down and look for. Slow down and listen for. Tear our eyes away from what is hard and awful for a bit to remember. It is a miracle that we are here. That we have bodies with life breathed into them by God. That as believers we are gifted and filled with

  "Can You Handle My Love" by Walk the Moon.  I can hear pretty much any song as a worship song. It may be a superpower (or perhaps it is just strange), but I hear from God often and in all kinds of music.   I heard this one on the radio yesterday and the lyrics above cut deep for me, I can imagine they would for many of us.  The song is about that hole in our hearts and how we try to fill it with chemicals, or anything else.  The lyrics make it seem like it would be a sad song, but it isn't at all. The lyricist is simply stating his self-awareness while getting on about his life.   I was thinking about how I do try to fill that hole in my heart with anything and everything.  A lot of people will say things like "That hole is just a God-sized hole and only God can fill it." Like we just declare one day "OK God, now you fill that hole in me", and BOOM, hole is gone now, so glad that's over, let's all praise the Lord.  I think that this is total

  For those who would follow Him, Jesus began deconstructing ALL of their beliefs. Unpacking the heart motivations behind them.  Deconstruction feels a lot like losing yourself.  For me it began with unease.  Quiet disagreement stirring in my spirit that would grow more and more uncomfortable.   When I began my journey as a believer, I was 30-ish years old. Jesus sealed the deal for me.  This Jesus, who loved like no other, who was a simple man with no pretenses of status. The humble carpenter who was holy and meek.  Somewhere along the journey of following Him, I lost that vision. The path got blurry, I thought I was following Him, but I was following a new shepherd.  I traded Free in Christ for Jesus Plus XYZ.  Staying in agreement with my faith community became more important than following Him. When the ”Christian community” at large began to look a lot less like Jesus and a lot more like the Pharisees, I clung to it hard at first.  I dug in. I tried listening to the echo chamber

Our firstborn turned 15 on Sunday. He’s somewhere between boyhood and manhood. What a tender age. Glimpses of the different versions of the man he could become.  Oh that we would steward your heart well. That you would choose love and mercy even as you begin to see the hate that is in the world. That it would even grow your faith and affection for Jesus. That you would never stop playing. Never stop praying. Never stop hoping. Never stop looking for the good and the beautiful.  Happy Birthday Isaac!  You are so beloved.