I have not always been merciful to my community and it has not always been kind to me. I have doubted its loyalty and distanced myself from the possibility of pain. I have shown up unwilling to work or waver in my stubbornness. I have listened to the lies that my feelings told and let them rot and spoil in the dampness of my mind. I have not treated my community’s wounds because I believed that it had earned them. But I am committed to my community as a wife commits to her husband. … More Commitment to Community
I wrote this song as a five-year-old who loved dirt and sticks…I had no idea back then that these words would resurface in therapy as an adult and that I would be the one that needed to hear them. … More The Girl With A Fountain On Her Head
Sometimes pieces of your past and pieces of your future die at the same time.
My grandmother and my baby are both gone and both missed, but my Hope survived. … More A Funeral, a Miscarriage, and Undying Hope
It was not some unfortunate mistake that there was wilderness on the path to the land flowing with milk and honey. In the wildernesses I have traversed with the Lord, I have found myself impenetrably close to his side. When I was lost, hungry, and afraid; I clung to my Guide. Now that my belly is full of milk and my mouth full of honey; guidance is the furthest thing from my mind. … More Milk & Honey
What did it feel like to hear the booming voice of God in a valley full of the remnants of people who were once alive asking if bones could become alive again? After the shock of a God that is both enormous and interactive speaking to the weakest member of the weakest tribe wears off a bit, the answer seems obvious. These bones are not only dead, they are dry. The life has been gone from them for so long that they are nearly dust. But God still asks, “Son of dust, can these bones become people again?” Ezekiel knows that without a miracle, these bones will not have life in them ever again. But God asks him anyway. … More Remember the drought, lest it returns.
I heard this song for the millionth time on my way to work this morning, but this time it helped me put words to my experiences with depression. … More “Winter Song” and Depression
I remember sitting in English and Photography classes in college, listening to indie music, and contemplating big and beautiful ideas and how to express those ideas for myself. Now I make grocery lists and read articles about managing my finances and pretend that I don’t feel the oncoming emptiness of adulthood that 18-year-old me would have deemed “selling out”. I gave up on so many things that I now realize were greenhouses for growing my best self. … More Fan the flame of Innovation
I find myself identifying with the man who wanted to possess a firm trust in a firm God so badly that he begged Jesus to help his unbelief. That cry from a desperate father hoping that a mustard seed would be enough to heal his son, resonates with me. Not because I am a father and not because I need healing, but because I need to know that the prayer “help my unbelief” will be heard. … More Help My Unbelief
To reach down into the hole that I dug for myself and offer me holiness, is unpredictable, inexplicable, and counter-human. The God I have come to know and love is unfathomably charitable in the face of all of my sickness, and for that I am too grateful for words. … More Too Grateful for Words
I have treated the God in my gut like a long distance friend and made an acquaintance out of his Word. As I inhale my sin and try to push out the blood that ran from the cross all those years ago; I find that it runs in my very veins now. And when the ancient hymn hits my ears – it is well with my soul – MY soul feels more like a prisoner of war. And the final verse – my sin, not in part but the whole – seems like the delusions of a misguided lyricist. … More The God in my Gut