Tag Archives: kingdom come

moving forward. always.

It’s all a mess, of course.
We run into it knowing that we have a plan
We run into it knowing that we have the knowledge
to fix it
to solve it
to make it better
We burn to fix it, to solve it, to make it better
So the fact the we have the change to
put the plan into action
and use our knowledge to make it better
must mean that all will be well
because
we are ready
to make it well.

But then,
we wake up to the news of
all gone wrong.
all unexpected.
all that is against all we’d hoped for
worked for
longed for
waited for
prayed for.

It’s in that moment
of course,
that we realize it’s all a mess
and we begin to wonder if plans and knowledge
and we begin to wonder if the burn to solve it, to fix it
are an existential mocking of sorts.

And yet
even waking up to the news of
loss
death
murder
backward
pointlessness

we can’t help but rub our eyes and
do our best to face forward
and look upward
and work to put our plans and knowledge
back to work
knowing that we may not actually ever get what we hope for
but knowing even more that
we are not willing to hope for less.
Even in the mess.
So we move
forward.

always.

and so we are bold to pray.

djordan
Pine Tree Dr.

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gracefully critical

gracefully-critical

Recently on vacation, the most stressful part of planning for the trip was not packing, arranging the house details, getting work squared away; the most stressful preparation was choosing which books to take when I knew I would have a week of incredible views, delicious food, and nothing to rush for other than finding a place to sit and read.

I had been saving Becca Steven’s new book, Snake Oil: The Art of Healing and Truth Telling, for the trip and it definitely did not let me down.

The book’s author, an Episcopal priest on Vanderbilt’s campus, founded Magdalene, a residential program for women who have survived lives of prostitution, trafficking, addiction and life on the streets, in 1997. From this work and the reality that getting clean and off the streets isn’t enough to support a new and whole life, she and the community around her began Thistle Farms, a social enterprise run from top to bottom by members of the Magdalene community, and involves making oils, candles, paper and more from the highway-found, stubbornly resilient and ultimately delicate thistle. As the women work in vats of oils and in meetings of scent-testing or tubs of paper-making, they are both creating an income, adding quality products to the market and community, and telling a story of healing and hope through the thistle.

Already a fan of Stevens after hearing her speak a few years ago, and following the work and even more so the spirit of the work at Magdalene and Thistle Farms, I’ve learned much about the nitty-gritty of what it means when Stevens says, “It takes a community to put a woman on the street, and it will take a community to bring her home.”

In our work at Area Relief here in Jackson, it’s that push for working to see the delicate beauty in what others have overlooked as weeds that is at the core of who we are. We aren’t great at it, as we often look at ourselves as much as those around us, as wasted and useless. But once we begin to work in the grace and hopefulness that whispers of the kingdom add to any story, we begin to find that we are becoming a part of healing community, seeing others healed as well as ourselves.

What struck me the most when reading Steven’s book was her uncanny ability to be gracefully critical. It is no butterfly and sunshine story of human trafficking, abuse, molestation, drug addiction, fundraising, second-guessing, and ultimately losing many battles to drugs and sex and objectification. It is no easy work no matter how ethereal our ways of speaking. There are power players to be called out, habits to be carefully questioned, ways of operating to completely burned up. And yet Stevens manages to tell the truth about all these issues in ways that lead the reader to want to be more hopeful, more loving, more compassionate, more trusting, more free in the promise of kingdom come.

The hard work of seeking first the kingdom is not child’s play, and yet we’ve been charged to work at it as a child. Truth-telling and healing all at the same. Silence in the face of injustice is not God-honoring, but neither is pessimistic cynicism. Stevens’ work is a strong and beautiful reminder that the kingdom comes through the action following graceful criticism.

And the kingdom does come.

djordan
Juneau, AK

To order the book, CLICK HERE.
To learn about Thistle Farms, CLICK HERE.

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a ridiculous question

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My students on Monday, Wednesday and Friday often have to suffer through whatever kind of mood I am in. They pretend to do so gladly, and fortunate for their sakes, most days this semester have been great. They have a lot to do with that as they have been an incredibly fun group thus far.

Last week, I found myself exhausted from work. I noticed that all the work involved good things with good people pushing for good progress. We had been looking for and living into signs of the kingdom, and it had all been good. But one evening, the evening before this particular class, I found myself wondering what I was doing, and if it is all worth it anyway.

My mind went back to a conversation I once had with someone questioning the pursuit of the kingdom. “Does it ever get better? Does it ever actually make a difference?” The questions, not ridiculous, come to my mind often if I tell myself the truth. The next question was, “And if it doesn’t ever really get better, why work toward it? All we can do is wait for it. Otherwise, we will get terribly depressed and disappointed, right?”

Back in the present, I found in myself after a great long day of different work in the community wondering what in the world I was doing. The notion that maybe things aren’t getting better seemed to push in harder, and with a particular situation in mind, and I wondered what the point was.

Just before arriving to my classroom the next day to talk to students about the history of faith and efforts toward justice, I ran across this video (below). I knew immediately that I was asking a bad question because I had, as I usually do, turned the situation back to myself. Gravity always pulls me inward, and in its doing, had made me wonder about the worthwhileness of it all. But this piece of work reminded me of the names and faces of people who are changing my world as I walk hand in hand with them toward the kingdom. They are my clients and the families I serve and the communities I work in. They can’t afford to wait, and therefore neither can I. We are the same.

The next time I find myself asking that ridiculous question, I hope I can remember. I showed the video to my students that day in hopes that they will remember also…and that they will hold me accountable to remember as well.

djordan
Pine Tree

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the tension in us

The hardest place that’s worth sticking it out in must be the place of tension.

In the times where we know we must move, but we don’t know how or where or in which direction, the tension burns and builds something new in us.

In the places where we want to do it the right way, with the right intentions, at the right speed and with the right understanding, but we feel the pressure to burst into action because it feels that lives are on the line otherwise, the tension tightens and turns something brave in us.

In the moments where we feel it’s everything we can do to hold back all the yearning and the wishing and the hoping and the praying to keep from cracking open in the most important and tenuous seconds, the tension gags and groans something wise in us.

And so we pray in those times and places and moments when the tension is burning and building, tightening and turning, gagging and groaning in us, that you will give us the steadfastness to stick it out so we can see the fruit of something new in us, something brave in us, and something wise in us.

Amen.

djordan
Pine Tree

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it all starts with good questions

I feel like I’ve been bombarded this week by people who see the world from completely different perspectives than I, but who share the same heart for justice and development and kingdom-living.

Incredibly encouraging.

The questions of whether or not we work toward and in light of and in hope of the kingdom come have grown tiring. Of course we do…it is what keeps us up at night and wakes us in the morning. The questions of whether we are in pursuit of the American Dream or in pursuit of a kingdom dream are old news. Boring. We press on for things on earth as in heaven, as we were taught.

So the joy comes in asking the good questions: what does this mean? What does it look like to practice medicine, business, design, landscaping, writing, teaching, mothering, fathering, gardening, skiing, listening, acting, singing…what does it look like to do all things in light of the kingdom.

How are our businesses different? How are our commitments different? How are our churches, our families, our finances, our career goals different?

How are the stories we tell, and the stories we crave different?

It has been an encouraging week, whether in the homeless shelter or the country club, imagining with others what it means to participate in God’s making all things new.

And it all starts with good questions
and good prayers.

Our Father in heaven, 
Hallowed be your name.
Your kingdom come,
Your will be done
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us today our bread for the day,
and forgive us for the ways we have failed others
in the same way we forgive the ways others have failed us. 
Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.
For yours is the kingdom, the power, the glory
forever.

djordan
Pine Tree

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