Elena Limoges, “The Work and Wonder of Words”
I think I posted a poem about this recently . . . 🙂 I appreciate Elena’s added emphasis on healing.
Kristin Vanderlip on hope, pain, and spiritual endurance
A moving reminder that there are “glimmers in the shadows.”
Jenn Whitmer, “Snap to it”
As a student of family systems theory, I would call this a discipline to learn to respond instead of reacting—which is the hardest part.
Earth’s crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God:
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,
The rest sit round it, and pluck blackberries.
—Elizabeth Barrett Browning, from Aurora Leigh, 1864
If we have eyes to see—and as Christians, we should—we live in a world rich with significance. God made everything, and all of it matters to him; he loves all of it, he is in control in all of it, and he is utterly good. As such, we should be people who live with deep and playful seriousness. On one hand, we ought to take everything and everyone seriously because the weight of eternity rests on each moment and is inherent in every person. On the other, we can hold all of it lightly because that weight doesn’t rest on us: God holds it in his hands.
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Aline Meyer, “Don’t Bargain on the Way”
A remarkable reflection on one of the saddest stories in Scripture, 1 Kings 13.
Jenn Whitmer’s parable of the refrigerator
I wouldn’t have imagined anyone could get this much insight out of an appliance purchase.
Colette Allen, “The Place of ‘In-Between’”
It occurs to me that to hunger and thirst for righteousness, we must learn to hunger and thirst . . .
We must be still and still moving
Into another intensity
For a further union, a deeper communion
Through the dark cold and the empty desolation,
The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters
Of the petrel and the porpoise. In my end is my beginning.
—T. S. Eliot, Four Quartets, “East Coker,” V.
If people know anything about 2 Corinthians, it’s probably the “thorn in the flesh” passage, 12:7-10. On the one hand, there are all sorts of ideas as to what the thorn in the flesh was, and those sorts of speculative disagreements always generate interest. On the other, this is where we get the oft-quoted idea that God’s power is perfected in weakness. Unfortunately, however, I think the standard interpretation of this passage misses what’s actually going on.Read more
It’s that time again—no, not for the Wheel of Morality, but to pass along the work of a few of my fellow hope*writers.
Jenn Whitmer argues that we need to ask better questions; in my friend Kent Denlinger’s terms, she’s making a good case for moving from condemnation to curiosity.
Jennifer Riales makes the point that if we are disciples of Jesus, we are missionaries wherever we go, and I love the way she describes it: “Changing the World One Front Yard at a Time”.
(This is the third excerpt from chapter 17 of my manuscript on the Sermon on the Mount; the first two excerpts are here and here.)
It’s not easy to accept Jesus’ declaration that the pure in heart are blessed, but it’s possible to assent intellectually without letting it interfere with our daily lives. It’s far harder to heed John Owen’s dictum, “Be killing sin or it will be killing you,”[1] and declare war on our sin out of a desire to be pure in heart; but though that’s a major spiritual commitment, it’s still one we usually make with unconscious caveats. We assume there are limits to how far we can be expected to go in order to put sin to death in our lives. We assume God is reasonable—on our terms, by our definition—in his expectations.
Jesus shatters those assumptions, because his demands aren’t reasonable at all. In fact, they’re barbarically unreasonable. He commands us to do whatever we have to do to overcome sin in our lives, no matter how much we expect it to hurt or how much we have to give up. If we try to tell him he’s asking too much of us, he looks us right in the eyes and says, “No, I’m not.” There are no exceptions, no loopholes, no limits, and no statute of limitations to his command.Read more
This is one of my favorite worship songs. I say that advisedly, knowing the reaction that statement will get from a lot of people: “That’s not a worship song! It doesn’t end with praise!” In fact, according to an interview the men of Tenth Avenue North gave a few years ago, a lot of Christian-music stations refused to play this song for just that reason: it doesn’t end with everything resolved and God having made everything good again.
But this is a worship song. If you don’t believe me, just ask the Psalmist.
I’m thinking about this tonight because of a remarkable, powerful post: When Lament Doesn’t Quickly Resolve into Trust, by a woman named Desiree Brown.Read more
I recently joined hope*writers (hence the badge at the top of the sidebar); it has been a delight for a number of reasons, one of which is discovering some of the other writers on the site and their work. The logical thing to do, then, is to pass some of that on.
Rachel Rains on unexpected seasons: as our own unexpected season continues, I’m grateful for these words of encouragement.
Jun Shu, “For the Weary Hearts in Waiting”: this piece of comfort fits well with the post above. Apparently God really wants to drive this point home for me today.
Sarah Treanor, “Field of Dreams”: I’m also grateful for Sarah’s reminder that we need support—and for the encouragement to seek that support. (I also encourage you to check out her portfolio. Be aware that the first collection, “still, life,” was part of her way of processing the death of her fiancé; the images are appropriately powerful, cathartic, and unsettling.)