The future is unknown, my plans follow a trail map. It goes off the grid. I haven’t traveled this terrain before, so I’ll be trusting my gut, relying on the witness of others, and orienting myself to Jesus. You’ll find me “way-finding.”
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Read MoreDespite the increased conversation around consent in recent years, pockets of conservative faiths that decry the term still remain.
In addition, the lasting effects of a lack of autonomy still reverberate through the bodies of those raised in environments that never taught consent, mine included. With such heartbreaking prevalence of this harm, it is imperative that we continue to build a culture within our churches that embodies the immense value of consent.
I watch her daily, the way her body is continually stretched and worn by the task of growing a new life. Over and over and over again.
“It’s important to surrender our bodies to the Lord,” she says, “If Jesus is not Lord of all, then he’s not Lord of anything.” This logic makes sense to my young mind, and I worry about the ways I’m not surrendering. Does my fear of what the Lord may ask of my body mean there’s something wrong with me?
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Joke to him and to me
he’s there
she’s not seen
I’ll tell you the stories of eyes not blue
I’ll tell you the stories of eyes not blue
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the pews with common faces,
and here, my brown hands
tearing white loaves
for you, for you
my body broken,
i consent
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Read MoreI believe God longs for us, wants us, and desires us. All of those words could be used as sexual adjectives which hint at the intimacy of the love offered to us. Love requires a deep vulnerability of God. He allows himself to experience our rejection. The Divine has infinite resources and yet chooses to be vulnerable to us. The choice to respond to Holy vulnerability is ours.
Read MoreIn the age of consent and the church, I walked through the door of lying to myself, so I could tell the truth about Jesus and love. The truth about my past wasn’t the truth about Jesus. They did not mix.
It’s early in the new decade – the opening of day two to be exact. I find myself sitting in the car, watching my 12 year old daughter step onto the park fields to kick a soccer ball around in preparation for the upcoming tournament this weekend. I inhale the fresh coffee from my favorite fair exchange brew – it is inviting me to savor each sip.
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There is no predictable season for the PTSD flu, no vaccine to prevent it.
Read MoreThe post-traumatic stress disorder influenza symptomology: chills, fever, body aches, pain in joints, night sweats, trouble breathing, congestion, and restless sleep.
It’s not easy to slow down, take a breath, listen to my body, check in with my family in more than just passing. I live in a heightened state of movement, needing to meet deadlines, pressure to stay present with my family, amidst deep desire for connection.
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This month is “Human Trafficking Awareness” month. It’s a month to nationally recognize those caught in this vicious cycle of harm. And, I’ve been pondering what to share during this month that brings awareness to survivors of complex trauma.
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I say “Yes” to love, relationships, honor, trust, delight, faith, and hope.
Read MorePhilippians 1:29-30 “29 For you have been given not only the privilege of trusting in Christ but also the privilege of suffering for him. 30 We are in this struggle together. You have seen my struggle in the past, and you know that I am still in the midst of it.”
Skittles, Lynch, Seahawks
New Year pictures
lime bike
Read Moregraduation
Melancholy hope nights shouting
Read MoreI set my Bible next to the puzzle, wondering if there was an arc that would hold me and my family from the impending flood. Days later, after my therapist handed me a yellow sticky note with 4 names of potential next therapists, I just stared. She’d made the call to get me into the hospital, and days before Thanksgiving, sat me down and told me to look for a new therapist. I really needed help, and I would be best served elsewhere.
Read MoreI heard you say, “My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant. From now on all generations will call me blessed, for the Mighty One has done great things for me – holy is his name. His mercy extends to those who fear him, from generation to generation.”
Read MoreWild fierce announcing
Not the light witness of light
Anxiety gone
Read MoreNot unusually, I am sitting in the living room, writing. It’s 5:30 a.m. My 10 year old girl plops down by my side, reading her novel, and listening to the morning news with me. The day isn’t off and running, yet. We enjoy quiet morning moments, interrupted most often by two Labrador retrievers wrestling.
Read MoreAdvent’s exiles rarely sit in chairs at churches, or enter meaningful conversations with people wearing “What Would Jesus Do” bracelets. Advent’s exiles gather in homes to watch football, laugh at themselves, make cookies for neighbors, often speak English and another language, watch political news because it’s personal. Mostly, Advent’s exiles work hard, put their noses to the grind to make ends meet, and find time for family.
Read MoreWild hope dares me to keep believing, lean in. It is the “John the Baptist” kind of wild. I throw prayers, dreams, visions back to God, asking for answers, peace, and justice. I imagine John the Baptist, bearded, eyes alert, bearing witness to culture, anticipating a new way of living. He paces, dreaming – speaking – driven by calling. Yeah, that’s the same category of wild, I think.