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.

The Wisdom of Stability, Part 2-Midday Demons (book review)

The following chapter in Hartgrove’s book warns, “Buckle Up!”

After encouraging nurturing roots of love, he immediately offers that you can expect spiritual challenges. His first reference retells the story of the desert monastics’ “describing the ‘noonday devil’ who attacks after one commits to stay and begins to feel the heat of high noon.”

This is where the book’s subtitle, “Rooting Faith in a Mobile Culture,” gets highlighted. To stay, to root, to pursue stability “against the seas of constant change makes us susceptible to temptations we would not otherwise have occasion to know.”

The practice of stability cannot be reduced to a quick fix for the spiritual anxiety of a placeless people. It is a process. It takes time…To persevere in the process that leads to real growth, we must learn to name and resist the midday demons.

These are the three midday demons:

  • Ambition’s Whisper
  • Boredom’s Rut
  • Vainglory’s Delusion

I’m quite familiar with the first two. They often show face at high noon. Hartgrove offers several countermoves to these temptations focused on both spirit and body including physical activity, engaging community, and dying well.

This book, available on hoopla and an easy weekend read, is worthwhile. If you only read chapters four and five of this book, you will be enriched. However much you read, you’ll find yourself wiser and pondering your stability.

Photo by 光曦 刘 on Unsplash

The Wisdom of Stability, Part 1-Roots of Love (book review)

Reading while traveling last weekend I gained a broader definition for stability thanks to Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove. His book, The Wisdom of Stability, affirmed and challenged me, leaving me with this evaluation-I’m decently stable, but there’s always need for growth.

It’s important to point out what Hartgrove is addressing. He’s not talking about the need for emotional regulation or mental wellness. In simple terms, he shares a message of valuing staying put, committing to less wandering, and acknowledging “there comes a time to set seeking aside,” as Kathleen Norris states in her foreword.

Example: I overheard someone this morning describing the makeup of three fantasy football leagues they’re active in. One is made up of college friends; another is made up of childhood friends. Possibly without intention, this person is practicing stability in a way that many of us aren’t.

To practice stability is to learn to love both a place and its people. -Chapter 4, “Roots of Love”

Hartgrove uses trees to explain in chapter four. His analogy rings true, especially for those living where I do. Last year’s hurricane season wreaked havoc. Ask those who live where I moved in April. The community lost over a third of its trees. Why? Their roots couldn’t withstand the winds.

The chapter title, “Roots of Love,” comes from a thought by Benedictine Anselm of Canterbury, a twelfth-century monk who compared a restless monk to a tree. “If he often moves from place to place at his own whim, or remaining in one place is frequently agitated by hatred of it, he never achieves stability with roots of love.”

One temptation in the face of agitation is to flee (more about temptations in part two). Hartgrove challenges us to accept this goes against one reason we were made-to intimately share life with our landscape and its people.

How else can we learn the attention that is needed to really know a community? How else would we ever gain the patience that is required to care for a place over time?

Friday, I chose to go inside Chick-fil-A for lunch rather than hurry through the drivethrough. Not many other customers made the same choice, so the hostess had few people to chat up. She chose me as her customer to get to know. She asked a pretty standard question for non-Floridians, “Did you grow up in Florida?” I have to honestly answer that with a no. But when I say I’ve lived in Florida since 1986 and in this area since 2002, the reply is usually something like, “Well, you might as well have.”

More than once my seeking has tempted me to move on.

More than once, I’m reminded that God is wiser than me. With his wisdom comes stability, and with that stability comes wisdom.