Christianity | most hopeful

Sep 30 2012

learning to live, what they are teaching me

from the heart of my bottom

A mess is made whenever people get together.

Always.

And I’m amazed how others, but mostly myself, still pretend that any time people get together it will not be a mess, among all the other beautiful and stunning things that it always is as well, of course.

But beyond that mess, ever present and reliable, is something deeper and a little more true. Beyond the inevitable mess made when people get together is a promise that people stay together, in one way or another, in the mess of it all. And sometimes staying together means staying physically housed together. Sometimes it means continuing to work together.

And sometimes it means taking the pieces of each other that, as much as we thought or intended or assumed would do otherwise, still stick to us and move into new worlds and new places and new possibilities with those sticky pieces of where we come from and what we are made of.

It’s bound to us in the same way our family name is bound to us and the heritage of our story and trial and DNA are bound to us. Like it or leave it, this is where we have come from, and this is who we are.

This morning, I had the chance to celebrate the 175th anniversary of the church I was raised in. And while time has passed and circumstances have moved faster than passing time, I was struck by the celebration of the organist who has played at that church for the last fifty years. He was playing the organ for the church when my parents met, when they were married, when I was born, when I chose to commit to the faith, when I graduated, and when it was time for me to move on.

His service is marked by a long-time faithfulness to the ins and outs of the messiness of people and groups of people just as much as his long-time faithfulness to the celebration of all that is good and true in a congregation. And today, as he marched up the platform stairs with his cane to receive a gift of appreciation for his fifty-year service, I was caught emotionally off guard. His walk up the stairs reminded me of the value of the mess, and the occasional times of not-messiness, that happen when people get together, and what it can mean to see things through.

But moreso, it reminded me of the goodness of looking back, half a century later, and seeing that the work continues, and the call continues, and the kingdom still comes. Mess and no mess. God works through his people toward kingdom come on earth as in heaven.

So to Bobby, from the heart of my bottom as he would say, thanks for your longtime service, and for the reminder that the world goes not well, but the kingdom comes.

djordan
Pine Tree

Tagged 175 years, bobby newton, celebration, Christianity, church, commitment, God, mess, messiness, Picture frame, prayer, Religion & Spirituality, trial

Sep 27 2012

today is the day | on Luke 4

He went to his hometown.
He went to the temple, like he always did.

He went to the place that taught him the scriptures.
He went to the place that raised him in the faith.
He took the papers they had taught him with.
He took the place they had raised him in.

And he turned everything upside down
even though it was all that had been there all along.

“The Spirit is on me
Because he has annointed me
to tell the poor the good news
to tell you all of the prisoners’ release
to tell of the blind being able to see
to tell of the wounded victims’ new freedom
to announce the year of God’s favor”

He handed them back the words they had long ago taught him
And sat back down where he had been sitting for many years.

They stared.

And he said, “Today is the day.”

And it wasn’t that it had never been said before.
And it wasn’t that it had never been read before.
But he was filled with something big and huge that has been
saying it since the beginning of time
and when he was in the right place
and when the time was right
the words said something they had never said before.

and that’s when the time comes, like it always comes.

djordan
Pine Tree

Tagged Christianity, God, He has annointed me to preach good news to the poor", Isaiah, jesus, Luke 4, reading, Religion and Spirituality, Spirit, temple

Sep 23 2012

4 Comments

learning to live, poems, Prayers

from a long line of rule-breakers

History is marked by those pushing
into uncharted waters
unexamined worlds
and mostly unacceptable arenas
where people who were not to be
allowed
accepted
approved or
appreciated

were asked to
contribute
comprehend
compose and
conspire

against the ways that things are
and toward the way that things should be

in the kingdom
in the beloved community
in the new ecology
of a world and
of a community where
rich and poor
sick and well
like and unlike
loud and quiet
important and ignored

sit together
eat together
serve together
weep together
laugh together
learn together
give together
sing together and
hope together.

And while we are still so far behind
we have moved so far ahead
of where we have been

and only a few moments of remembering
will give us the wisdom and the humility
to pray to God–our only hope–that we will keep moving forward
faster and surer than the ways we are pulled to move backward

and we will remember
in our trepidation and
in our eagerness for
things to stay the same

that we are descendants of a long line
of rule-breakers
of peace-makers
of hope-holders and
of kingdom-bringers.

And now is not the time for stillness.

Amen.

djordan
Pine Tree

Tagged activism, Activism and Peace Work, Christianity, civil rights, God, history, hope, hoping, justice, needing, peace, praying, Religion and Spirituality, remembering, wanting

Sep 08 2012

give us courage.

djordan
Pine Tree

Tagged answering, asking, bravery, Christianity, church, community, Courage, hope, hoping, justice, kingdom, learning, questions, stories, strength, strong, truth

Sep 03 2012

1 Comment

Prayers

although we intend justice, mercy and humility

we intend to do justice
but we find ourselves surprised by what it involves
and so our feet shake a little when our toe begins to touch the water

we intend to love mercy
but in our eagerness to do justice we catch a glimpse of our own hate toward the other
and we temper down our justice because
we don’t know how to both do justice and love mercy at the same time

we intend to walk humbly
but as we barrel on toward doing justice we grow proud
and as we tip-toe up to loving mercy we grow soft
and we end up missing the mix of meekness altogether

but we know that what you’ve called us to is simple
and it is clear
and so we ask on the eve of difficult days and trying things
to give us the willingness to let you in,
so that you can, through us,

do justice, love mercy, so we can walk humbly with you, O God.

amen.

djordan
Pine Tree

Tagged boldness, Christianity, difficulty, do justice, humility, love mercy, meekness, merciful, Micah, Micah 6:8, proudness, timidity, walk humbly

Aug 30 2012

2 Comments

learning to live

before the day begins and ends

We pass each other like ships in the night.

The most meaningful conversations happen in person, but there’s an ocean in between.

I can point directly back to certain days, times of day, the commons where the walk was, how the sun was, how low the tree limbs were over the sidewalk that brushed my forehead as we walked back home.

I can point directly back to the kitchen counter, the conversation where the truth coming out meant a risk had to be taken, and once taken, the floodgates open. I remember the glasses and the stools and the way I rub my hands through my hair when I can’t think of anything clever or wise or meaningful to say.

And I can point directly back to the table in the restaurant in the airport where the goodbye was looming, and the risk of the sand ticking pushed me through my cowardice to laying out on the table something other than the beer and small talk, but rather laying out the things that had refused to let me go for quite sometime.

But then I got on the plane and flew back across the ocean. Back to work. Back to class. Back to groceries and bills and friends and all the other things we come back to.

Now, like ships in the night, we pass each other. My late-night hour is the twin of his early-morning hour, and across the latitudes we pass usually only a word or two, a prayer or the promise of a prayer. And while the ocean robs two friends of the possibility of walking through that field, sitting on those stools, or leaning over that table, we still know that the other is out there. Moving and knowing. Working and waiting. Watching for signs of the kingdom together.

And we give thanks before the day ends and begins simultaneously.

djordan
Pine Tree

Related Posts | Holy Indeed | The In Between Times

Tagged calm, Christianity, friends, knowing, learning, like two ships, living, missing, Ocean, prayer, Religion and Spirituality, remembering

Aug 27 2012

1 Comment

learning to live, Prayers

when there’s nothing to fight for

When there’s nothing to fight for
nothing to be enamored with
nothing to move into
nothing to be about
nothing to sing of

When we are bored
with the little tales
we tell ourselves

that’s when we fight against.
that’s when we tear down.
that’s when we go after.
that’s when we go under.

But…

There is enough to be fighting for
There is enough to be enamored with
There is enough to move into
There is enough to be about
There is enough to sing of

So when we find ourselves fighting against, tearing down, going after, going under
Give us a glimpse of the kingdom

and we shall sing again.

djordan
Pine Tree

Tagged against, arguing, Christianity, dimly, fighting, for, glimpse, glimpses, hope, imagination, kingdom, Literature, petty, story, storytelling, through a mirror, toward

Aug 23 2012

4 Comments

learning to live, the calendar

the loudness of silence | one year of www.mosthopeful.com

I was sitting with a good friend a few nights ago over a last minute dinner. We’d made jokes already about who was late (me, as always) and about what it was going to cost me (dinner, even though it never does).

At some point in the meal, after we’d been laughing and harassing and deciding all kinds of things, I realized that we had grown very quiet. But it’s the kind of realizing that it’s gotten quiet after it’s been quiet a while and yet I hadn’t realized no one was talking.

(There’s the other kind of silence, you know, when all parties are dying to speak but no one can think of a thing to say, either because they are bored senseless or the moment has grown too thick for words. This night was neither of those kinds of silences.)

I looked up at my buddy and knew in that moment that the last year for both of us––although in very different ways––had been both hellish and life-giving. We had endured all kinds of things, and moved unsurely but necessarily to the other side of what was lost, and began looking toward what will be found.

We are both still looking, of course, as everyone who is telling the truth about anything at all will admit that he is still looking for what will be found.

But in that moment when I realized no one was talking, but all was well, I realized how much I appreciate this kind of silence. It’s a kind of silence that is no longer pregnant with impending misery and loss and sadness, but has been there when misery and loss and sadness have been there. It’s a kind of silence that is no longer awkward and wishing for words, but has pushed through to where nothing needs to be said, and nothing else has to be made known. It’s a kind of silence that speaks to the fact that while there’s not much to talk about, that means there’s not much to talk about––which means that of all the things the space between me and my buddy has had to hold onto and make sense of, tonight it need only make sense of good food and good laughter and good memories of time when we have carried heavy silences together.

It’s a loudness of silence that makes me thankful for the last year. A year that looked like the end of all things, but ended up being the beginning of all things new.

New hopes for what God is doing through his church in the world.
New hopes for what God is doing through his people in their
businesses, offices, homes, churches, classrooms, streets, neighborhoods, banks, schools,

New hopes while though we feel unsure, unable, unwilling, unfeeling, unhelpful
a year later
after trying
praying
listening
pretending

we still feel, above all, most hopeful.

Most hopeful about the future.
Most hopeful about the stories that will be told about the past.
Most hopeful about what God is doing in the world.
Most hopeful about how God will bring his church to life to join him.
Most hopeful for the way the stories of pain and sadness will resolve.
Most hopeful about the way the stories of excitement and anticipation will continue.
Most hopeful about the coming of God’s great kingdom.

Here’s to one year of mosthopeful.com, and all that has it represents of things lost, learned, and loved.

We cannot walk alone.

djordan
Pine Tree Dr.

CLICK HERE TO SEE THE FIRST POST ON WWW.MOSTHOPEFUL.COM, posted one year ago today.

Tagged Christianity, friends, God, hoping, knowing, listening, reflecting, Religion and Spirituality, sadness, safety, silence, silences, waiting, wanting

Aug 14 2012

1 Comment

art and photography, poems, Quotes

reminder of a better way

We are a people of privilege and entitlement.
We are among the haves––
we have education,
connections,
power,
and wealth.
Too often we are indulgent and self-sufficient consumers.
We speak of our achievements and accomplishments.
Sometimes we offer God liturgies of disregard,
litanies of selves made too big.
But we hear faint reminders of
a better way.

+ W. Brueggeman, “Well Arranged Lives”
from Prayers for a Privileged People

Tagged at our best, better, Christianity, darkly, dimly, glimmer of hope, God, hope, justice, mirror, money, newer, other way, pathology, poverty, power, prayer, Religion and Spirituality, third way, wealth

Jul 30 2012

the truth in aspirations

One of the guiding tenants of my profession, social work, and what must be a guiding tenant of the Christian faith as we are made in the image of a creative and compassionate God, is one of the lines from Saleeby’s strengths perspective which suggests that we must take the aspirations of others seriously.

We are trained, of course, to allow this to shape our imaginations in our work with clients, families and communities, no matter what the problem at hand is. At all costs, we take seriously the aspirations of those we serve.

In the case of this story, they are beautiful aspirations which allow others the opportunity to live when they are realized. It is, for me, a reminder of the serious truth in the aspirations of children, and it is a a challenge to take seriously every child’s aspirations, even if they are small, because we can also, as the guiding strength’s perspective says, assume that we do not know the upper limits of the capacities of others.

Enjoy.