Tag Archives: guys

skyping from kitchen to living room

I remember it pretty well, actually. About four years ago I think it was.

It was some kind of all-of-a-sudden party that the college folks from my Sunday night small group were getting me used to all over again. It started with “Can I come over and study?” and ended with us all sitting in different rooms of the house, ┬álaptops open, seeing how many video skype conversations we could have going at one time.

Of course, after three or four the sounds starting echoing and whistling, my internet started gasping, and we had to shut the whole operation down.

I think, often on Sunday nights, about those guys, and all the other people they brought into my world. I think about where they are now, what they are doing, and how they are seeing and joining in signs of the kingdom all over the world these days.

Gentlemen: Ben, Quick, Coop, PeterB, Toddley, Ryan, Noah, Corey, Andrew, Bradley, Scotty Scott, Matt, Dennis, Dan, Devin, Ross…you fill me with pride.

It occurs to me this evening, actually being forced to talk to one of you via Skype because the distance has grown much greater than den to kitchen, that I would love to have you all sitting on the couch laughing, arguing, talking, praying, learning, hoping and skyping with your laptops in your hands.

But alas, the world is waiting for kingdom come, and you are those who bring it.

Gentlemen, you make me proud. Always.

djordan
Pine Tree

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daring to speak

Just after a hard rain, the chairs dried but the red brick still slippery wet, we just spent the last few hours out there. Sitting on the front porch, pipe in my hand, cigar in a newer friend’s hand, I was reminded again of the courage it takes to speak about ourselves in the hearing of others, and to trust that our humanity will be shared rather than used against us.

Words come tumbling out of my own mouth, and I wonder if they will be met with an appreciation for both their ambiguity and honesty, or if they will be the nail in the coffin of my once-perceived sanity and standing.

And as they come tumbling out, as they did tonight, time seemed to move slowly, Matrix-like, as if I could see the words themselves passing over the cigar cutter, the lighter, the pulsing citronella candle inside its orange ceramic shell, making it finally to the hearer. In that slowness of time, the notion that vulnerability is our biggest fear and our only hope seemed to float on top those words.

And they were heard. And affirmed. And shared.

Then words come back. Heard. Affirmed. Shared.

As many times as these kinds of moments happen, I’m always amazed at the palpable fear in daring to speak. But beyond the fear, the daring and the speaking are the only ways to honestly offer the invitation for anyone else to find in themselves the courage to speak back.

Otherwise, we all remain silent and unhearing.

djordan
Pine Tree

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