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

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.

3 Thoughts on Forgiveness

I’m in the middle of listening to Seeing With the Eyes of the Heart.

Roughly a third of the way in, Adyashanti asked to address the topic of forgiveness. His thoughts were striking.

At one level I think the greatest forgiveness is when we really see that there’s no need for forgiveness because everything is inherently, consistently forgiven. It’s human beings that decide we are sort of God’s arbitrators of who can and cannot be forgiven, and it disconnects us from the experience of the way forgiveness works in the universe.

No need for forgiveness seems utopian. Yet, his reasoning is captivating. He’s not saying there is no literal need for forgiveness. He’s suggesting we must task ourselves to learn how it works, first from God and then between humans.

Some of Jesus’ last words on the cross were “Forgive them for they know not what they do,” referring to the people who put him there. If you are on the cross and you can forgive the people who put you there, that’s a pretty big forgiveness. You’re forgiving hate, and you’re forgiving violence…there’s a great teaching in that. If he couldn’t have forgiven them, he could have never been free from them. He would have been trapped in their hate because he couldn’t forgive their hate. He would have been trapped in their violence because he couldn’t forgive their violence…Ignorance can take some pretty violent forms…Most people are pretty much doing what they can do. What they are doing is an exact reflection of the state of their consciousness.

The striking image of these thoughts is being trapped. Couple that with being trapped in hate or violence with the foundation being the other person’s ignorance, forgiveness not only seems possible but desirable.

If we have no forgiveness, our participation in the world is seared with anger and hate, even if we are working with something that is very necessary and good. This motivation seems to come from fear rather than love.

May our searing be exposed. May love overcome our fear.

Four One Liners from The Shack

Hullabaloo is not a party I enjoy. So forgive me if I’m eight years late to The Shack conversation (referring to the movie; 18 years since the book publication).

My free evening in Las Vegas was not going to be about hullabaloo either. So I turned on the TV for the first time in four days to see what I could find to watch. Up popped The Shack. It was time.

Papa (Octavia Spencer) and Mack Phillips (Sam Worthington) in “The Shack.” (Photo Credit: Jake Giles Netter) 

As the story unfolded, I was drawn to all the one liners; so I started this draft to share the ones that got my attention the most. Here are those four.

“Don’t forget we love each other.”

Nan, the wife, said this to Mack, her husband. He was withdrawn, and she wanted to find a way to reach him. This was a good reminder for those who are tempted to isolate when dealing with pain. Remember that people love you…and that you love them.

“Love always leaves a mark.”

God said this to Mack. Mack was expressing doubt and lack of trust in God’s love due to all the pain in his life. He learned that he was judging God, blinding him from just how much God loved him and everyone in his life, even the ones who had hurt him. This line was God expressing the extent of his love for Mack.

“You have no idea how much I’m doing right now.”

Mac was trying to make a joke about what God was doing. And his judgment brought this response. What a reminder! Our finite minds find it hard to comprehend exactly what all is going on in the universe and God’s part in it. Our humility grows when we consider the magnitude of that work.

“Does what I do really matter?”

This was Mack’s question toward the end of the movie. It caught my attention because it somewhat seemed to come out of left field. Yet, anyone floundering in their pain would most likely eventually ask this question. Purpose has a way of healing wounds.

Yes, one could dislike the movie and the book for theological reasons. Being late to the party, I’m choosing to listen and grow, one line at a time.

Deeper, Stronger Love

About this time last Saturday, I was sitting in the stands of Washington-Grizzly Stadium on the campus of the University of Montana in Missoula waiting for the Zootown Challenge 5k to start. Not too sure how the race would go due to fighting off altitude sickness the last 18 hours, I was anxious to get moving.

When they separated the competitors based on expected pace, I ended up standing by this guy, one of several competitors wearing the same shirt.

I asked, “Tell me about the shirt so many of you are wearing. Are you part of a team?”

“No,” he smiled. “We’re just all here to remember my brother, the guy on our shirts. He died last year. He ran this race the first two years it was put on, so we’re all here to honor him.”

“That’s really amazing. There are a lot of you. How many are there?”

“54. And he’s laughing right now. This is something I never do.”

We chuckled at that thought and ended the short chat with encouragement. Basically, no matter what, we’re going to get this done. The line started moving, and we eventually separated. I passed him once on the course with a nod to keep moving.

Nothing was said about how his brother died. A year later, that wasn’t important to share in a random conversation with a stranger. What was most clear was the brother left behind loved his lost brother and was doing things now because of what he saw and remembers. I’m guessing being in that stadium and running the course was a way for him to say, “I haven’t forgotten you. Odd to say, but I love you probably now more than ever.”

This was fresh in my mind as I had just read these words from Henri Nouwen’s book Life of the Beloved:

I am called to trust that life is a preparation for death as a final act of giving…If love is, indeed, stronger than death, then death has the potential to deepen and strengthen the bonds of love. It was only after Jesus had left his disciples that they were able to grasp what he truly meant to them. But isn’t that true for all who die in love? (Chapter 8, “Given”)

May your loves deepen and strengthen.

Running from Joppa

Jonah 1:3 CEV
Instead, Jonah ran from the Lord. He went to the seaport of Joppa and found a ship that was going to Spain. So he paid his fare, then got on the ship and sailed away to escape.

Most 4:30AM runs don’t make me think of Old Testament prophets. This morning, I might as well have been boarding a boat bound for Spain.

Never mind the fact that a gradual heavier rain fell over the five miles. The connection was a familiar spirit that I’ve encountered many times over my 56 years. I’ve come to identify it as the Jonah Syndrome (JS). See if these three words sound symptomatic: frustrated, angry, and resentful.

The more I chatted and listened to myself, the more I realized I wasn’t the only one in the conversation. If I’m being honest, I told God I felt pretty justified in these emotions. He didn’t disagree; but he didn’t give freedom to let them be an excuse for any actions for the day.

That’s when I turned. Instead of getting cozy on the boat kidding myself that the approaching storm had nothing to do with me, I found myself running from Joppa, visualizing the rain symbolically washing away the potential actions produced by JS. The request became, “Replace these symptoms with patience, love, and purpose.”

Here’s what I know about Joppa-you have a choice: keep running to escape or reverse course. Thankfully, God welcomes pacing anyone running from Joppa.

Photo by Justin Aikin on Unsplash

Love As Being

When you lose your ability to care, you lose the thing that makes you human: your heart. –John Sowers, chapter 24 “Love As Being,” Say All the Unspoken Things

At first read, I thought to myself, “I’ve had heartless moments, even a heartless season. How did that happen?”

To be fair to myself, the moments and seasons that come to mind weren’t complete loses of caring. They’re better described as misdirected, distracted, or too much in the weeds that I forgot the big picture. And by big picture, I’m thinking more about all the relationships in a setting versus a select one or two.

So how did that happen?

Selfishness. There was a moment I upstaged some dear friends. I was so caught up in my own story that I lost sight of their story. Thankfully, they didn’t lose their heart.

Demanding Justice. There was a season I was determined to right a wrong. No one asked me to; no one gave me permission. Thankfully, that season came to an end before I lost heart.

Abusing Power. There was a moment I carved a wound with a hasty decision. In that moment, I chose perfection over mercy. Thankfully, that scar reminds me what power can do to my heart.

The chapter title of Sowers’ quote is worth noting. The less I care about doing and more about being the more loving I am.

Thanks for saying the things, John Sowers.

Photo by Isaac Quesada on Unsplash

Countercultural Leaders Worth Listening To

The last two books I’ve read have been authored by Colby Martin, a progressive pastor in California. I’m not going to do a review or respond to his writings except for one observation.

I finished The Shift today. Some who will follow that link may wonder, “Why would you read that book, John?” Here’s a quote giving a hint:

Listening helps us understand, understanding leads to compassion, and compassion opens the way for love. Suddenly, we see others not as our enemies, not as people out to get us, but as people for whom we do not desire suffering. We now feel a longing for their well-being in the same way we hope for our own. We may still not like what they’re saying, and it may still be appropriate to push back, but now you’re engaging in the conversation from a place of love, and that changes everything.

-Chapter “When Progressives Attack”

In this next-to-last chapter, Martin addresses the issue of when progressive Christians attack each other. I already respected him before this chapter; this chapter elevated my respect. Martin isn’t trying to create a war. In fact, he’s challenging those within his ranks to move away from that posture.

I was reminded of reading Senator Ben Sasse’s book Them. Sasse drove home the point, five years ago now, that the challenge in America is we take sides and make enemies of those on the other side.

I’m thankful for leaders who are countercultural in modeling and challenging us to listen to help us understand to grow our compassion to open ourselves in the ways of love.