2 Temptations that Keep Us from the Dive of Love

I’m listening to Richard Rohr’s The Tears of Things.

In chapter five he discusses the writings of Jeremiah. One aspect Rohr pulls out is Jeremiah’s challenge to not be attached to the exterior works of religion and to choose the inner transformation found in a relationship with the one being worshipped. Be more in love with God instead of the rituals that supposedly bring you closer to him.

This particular statement stung me:

Church loyalty is commonly substituted for the love of God. Loyalty is actually a form of codependency giving a warped sense of control and safety while love is a dive into perfect freedom.

Loyalty – I have wrestled with this value most of my life. I’ve come to the realization that the temptation to be loyal to what or who I can see is a great tool of the enemy. So yes, it’s easy to understand how one could substitute it for the real thing.

Codependency – This is a good possibility of why we choose that substitution. This temptation to be in control and to pursue safety is the oldest tool of spiritual warfare. It’s not a reason to run from the church; it’s a worthy awareness to maintain church health.

Love of God – I’ve been challenged several times over the last five years by those speaking into my life that my dive into perfect freedom needs more attention. That’s why this quote resonated. That is how I avoid yielding to these two temptations.

Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash

Hard, Shadowy Love

(A final word from Paul E. Miller’s book A Loving Life)

Part three, “Learning To Think in Love,” contains the most challenging yet helpful direction, particularly chapter 19. In describing discovering God on the journey of love, Miller digs into two main thoughts: the shadowy presence of God in our lives and the need to embrace the hard things in life to live out love.

God’s presence in the book of Ruth mirrors his presence in our lives. It is subtle. He doesn’t leap out like he did with Moses and the plagues in Egypt. If God regularly showed himself like he did at the Red Sea or the resurrection, there would be no room for relationship…By staying in the shadows, at the edge of the story, God creates the need for faith and thus intimacy. The hiddenness of God builds our faith muscles.

A practical illustration of how we live this out is in conversations. Living in the shadows looks like staying small, deliberately on the edge so others can emerge and come alive facilitated by our humility.

Not easy. Particularly in conflict or when things aren’t going as planned or expected. Ruth and Naomi’s journey was filled with hard.

Ruth discovers God and his blessing as she obeys, as she submits to the life circumstances that God has given her. So instead of running from the really hard thing in your life, embrace it as a gift from God to draw you into his life.

May we discover God on our 2026 journey of love.

Photo by Semyon Borisov on Unsplash

Love & Resurrection

Part two of Miller’s book A Loving Life is entitled “The Shape of the Journey.” A repeated theme is resurrection. When considered through a lens of love, there are some meaningful thoughts to digest.

Every time I endure in love, I go through a mini-death and mini-resurrection. -Chapter 11, “Love Protects”

…in the middle of a death, we should keep an eye out for resurrection. -Chapter 15, “Love Invites Resurrection”

Since watching The Shack last year, one line often comes to my mind when I’m having to endure in love. Mack’s wife said to him at the end of a disagreement, “Don’t forget we love each other.”

Loss of or shifts in relationship challenge our love. There is wisdom in recognizing the mini-death. There is hope in keeping an eye out for mini-resurrection.

A final thought: we can hope for resurrection, but we can’t demand it. In chapter nine, “The Gospel Shape of Love,” Miller shares Paul’s description of the shape of Jesus’ love journey from Philippians 2. It’s a reminder of our model to follow in love and resurrection.

He emptied himself. He took the form of a servant. He was born in the likeness of men. He humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death. We can do death. But we can’t do resurrection. We can’t demand resurrection-we wait for it.

Photo by Charlie Foster on Unsplash

Balancing Lament

I believe in the value and need of lamenting. If you’re familiar with the Old Testament book of Ruth, you know the characters had quite a bit to lament over. So it was no surprise as I read Paul E. Miller’s book A Loving Life based on Ruth that he devoted much of the first part teaching about lament.

Chapter three, “The Lost Art of Lament,” is entirely focused on it.

In the West, we’ve lost the practice of lamenting. In contrast, the ancient Hebrews were constantly in God’s face. About one third of the Psalms are laments where the psalmists pour out their hearts to God.

Later in chapter six, Miller gives a comparison between what happens when we don’t lament or when we actually over-lament. Attention grabbing.

…to not lament puts God at arm’s length and has the potential of splitting us. We appear okay, but we are really brokenhearted.

The opposite danger of not lamenting is over-lamenting. Dwelling on a lament is the breeding ground for bitterness. Bitterness is a wound nursed. Our culture’s emphasis on the sacredness of feelings often gives people an unspoken theology of bitterness. They feel entitled to it. -Chapter 6, “Entering a Broken Heart”

I am guilty of this opposite danger. Nursing a wound in such a way as to keep it rather than heal it has planted bitter seeds.

Having done or observed both of these treatments of lament has taught me valuable lessons. The truth of Ecclesiastes 3 bears witness here. “There is a time for everything.” May we all allow and balance lament’s time.

The Other Side of Waiting

Alone in the flames

Looking only at the blaze

I wished to just burn

You stayed, shielded, healed, heard, forgave, whispered

“You will rise from the ashes

Smile again

Stand without shame

Sing again

Look back in wonder

Run again

Raise your head toward heaven

Praise again

Remember who you are

Believe again

Forgive your oppressors

Trust again

Gaze with compassion

Love again

Speak words of peace

Bless again

Serve your neighbor

Breathe again”

This is resurrection

This is abiding

This is the other side of waiting

Photo by Elisabeth Arnold on Unsplash

Have Mercy

In the same podcast episode mentioned in “How Long,” the speaker’s second focus on praying the Psalms was confession.

He mentioned the few occasions that the Psalmist penned the phrase, “Have Mercy, O God.” The most familiar of these is Psalm 51 by David.

This song is my effort to capture these eight verses:

Have mercy on me, O God,
    according to your unfailing love;
according to your great compassion
    blot out my transgressions.
Wash away all my iniquity
    and cleanse me from my sin.

Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean;
    wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.
Let me hear joy and gladness;
    let the bones you have crushed rejoice.
Hide your face from my sins
    and blot out all my iniquity.

10 Create in me a pure heart, O God,
    and renew a steadfast spirit within me.
11 Do not cast me from your presence
    or take your Holy Spirit from me.
12 Restore to me the joy of your salvation
    and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.

How Long

I recently listened to a podcast episode of a prayer event in Europe. The episode’s speaker captured the power of praying the Psalms, particularly in regards to lamenting.

His encouragement to help growth in lamenting was focused on the language of Psalm 13, specifically the first three words: “How Long, Lord.”

My lament went from the page to the piano. Before you listen to the recording, take a moment to meditate on the six verses of this psalm:

[1] How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? [2] How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me? [3] Look on me and answer, Lord my God. Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death, [4] and my enemy will say, “I have overcome him,” and my foes will rejoice when I fall. [5] But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. [6] I will sing the Lord’s praise, for he has been good to me. Psalm 13 NIV

Let Them Release First

I don’t recall where or who I heard say this about hugs, but it has stuck with me.

To be a great hugger, let them release first.

Those of us who are not naturally big on hugging no matter the reason can, however, practice being great at hugging.

Got some practice yesterday after church.

One of the men who got baptized crossed my path after the service. We’ve hardly spoken in the past. Just some eye contact and short head nods while I’m playing the keyboard and he’s within spitting distance in the audience.

When he saw me coming, he came in for a hug. The Spirit whispered, “Hang on ’til he’s done.”

We didn’t say much. The embrace was plenty.

God shows his glory all day long. Even in hugs.

Photo by Alex Gallegos on Unsplash

Waiting, Choosing, and Giving Up

“To wait with openness and trust is an enormously radical attitude toward life.  It is choosing to hope that something is happening for us that is far beyond our own imaginings.  It is giving up control over our future and letting God define our life.”  Henri J. M. Nouwen

I’m guessing this is an ongoing discipline for everyone. Sometimes we wait well. Sometimes we choose well. Sometimes we give up well. We live in the ebbs and flows.

That last phrase, “letting God define our life,” is another way of describing my word for 2025 – Rest.

No other picture best captures how it’s played out than this.

I’m eager to play, create, commune, and gather the fruits of waiting, choosing, and giving up.

Psalms: Being Prayed Over

Many of my more moving moments of prayer have been when someone is being prayed over.

Maybe it’s because we don’t do it enough. Maybe it’s because we wait too long. Maybe it’s simply because it’s the breath of communion.

Each time my spiritual director prays over me, there’s an invitation and connection with the Holy One. Those two things are always in reach, but they seem energized by the words and spirit of a fellow believer.

I’ve witnessed this twice in the last two months while praying over believers in emotional and spiritual pain. It seemed either they were hearing words they didn’t know how to voice or cries exactly aligned with their hearts. These were holy communion moments.

In a different but similar way, I’ve experienced this by an unexpected means this week. Rather than reading my daily scriptures, I’ve utilized the audio reading on the app. Since I’m in Psalms, my experience feels very much like I’m being prayed over. Phrases rang truer, praises raised higher, and promises rose stronger.

Maybe scripture feels lifeless for you today. Maybe someone reading it over you would restart your inhaling and exhaling.

Maybe you’ve ran out of words to pray. Maybe someone praying over you could pick up where you left off, even say what you didn’t know how to or knew you needed to.

Communion awaits.