getting creative

I'm starting to feel creative again.

Not like I am ready to write a masterpiece kind of creative. Just creative. I'm reading more. Listening to good music. Am having better conversations. Am feeling a stronger and stronger desire to write again.

I just started reading David Dark's The Sacredness of Questioning Everything and so far I am loving it. I have enjoyed his work in one of my favorite magazines Paste (that is currently on hiatus in print, but only online). And he is a great person to follow on Twitter. One of the things I wrote about in my book for students Sacred Hope was a chapter on the importance of asking good questions, of perpetually asking questions for it helps us to be in a posture of humility; a posture of seeking so that we may find. Dark puts it this way: "When we have questions, illumination is possible. (p. 14)"

To some degree doubt is necessary in order for faith to exist. Without doubt, faith becomes unnecessary, for our certainty rules our hearts and creates our image or idol of God in our minds. Dark writes, "Religion is born out of questions, not answers. (p. 22)"

When it comes down to it, I think I am feeling more creative because I am starting to ask more questions again. I am opening my heart to wrestle with ideas, art, love, hope, and doubt. Truthfully, I might be feeling more creative because my boys are sleeping through the night again or spring is starting to make you want to be outside, or I am starting to find balance after our new addition to the family. No matter where it is coming from, I am going to settle in and see what kinds of great things might come out of the questions and creativity.

bumps and bruises

Rowan took his first spill tonight where he got a good bump and bruise on his head, plus a good cut with some blood. No fun. He actually didn't freak out very much; I think Shey and I were probably more surprised and worried to see his response than he was himself. But we didn't make any loud or surprising gasps at the sight of blood, and he calmed down in less time than a temper tantrum.

I've spent a good part of the last few months thinking about hope, in both preparing to write and in writing the book on sacred hope for students. It forced me to take a look at some of the bumps and bruises of the last couple of years, and some of the deeper wounds that are still healing from years past. Rowan is going to have a bump for a couple of weeks probably, and will have a little mark for probably months. All from climbing up on his play kitchen, slipping, and then bumping his head on the corner of our buffet.

I am just finally able to start talking about in any meaningful way about some of the traumatic experiences of the last year and a half, and yet we already have some new challenges that have arisen while finishing the book. I keep looking for a pause button somewhere; a place or time where I can catch my breath, slow down, and recharge, but so far we haven't found that place yet.

I suppose it is like advent: the waiting, the anticipation, the longing. Anticipation is a difficult emotion and means of life. It necessitates a hope in the present while also implying a hope in the future. It is really hard to live in those tensions. Not to mention the bumps and bruises along the way. Sometimes the bumps and bruises are actually cuts much deeper though, and take much longer to heal than I want to admit. I know that I haven't wanted to admit the pain still exists and affects me. In some ways, I'm just learning how to speak again.

I hope this means that I will figure out how to be a better husband and dad, to find a rigorous hope that helps me to live into the present with greater awareness of the future. The bumps and bruises are always scary at first, but they heal quickly; it is learning how to gain feeling back into the places where there were deep wounds and gashes that take time, silence, and perseverance.

hello world!

2010. How did we get here? It has a been a remarkable and remarkably busy end to 2009 for the family and me. I really can't believe how fast it went and all the new experiences we had. We are in the process of buying/building a house in Old Town Warrenton right now. We have loved living out in the country, and there are a lot of things we are going to miss terribly, including the family we currently live with, but overall, we are quite excited to live back in town. It will make for some easier playdates for Rowan and Shey, and will decrease some of commuting times to most everything. We are three blocks from Main Street in Old Town Warrenton, and only four blocks from our first apartment. This means we are only a couple of blocks from the farmer's market, the great local food and shops in Old Town, and close to parks, friends, and work. We are buying a brand new home with a good start on some helpful environmentally-friendly characteristics. We honestly never thought we'd be able to buy a house in town, much less a brand new home, which we got to pick out a lot of the options, and is all sitting on half an acre on a side street with little traffic and lots of trees! We are so excited!

On the personal side of things I taught my first class ever, Christian Theology I, in the diploma program at The John Leland Center for Theological Studies. This was a test run for me...a much cheaper (in fact I got paid for it!) way of figuring out if I'd like to pursue a Ph.D. some day. I had a great time. It was a stretch to make it happen while working a full-time job, but the experience and the opportunity was too good to pass up. It was amazing to sit on the other side of the classroom, and have the privilege of being there as folks realize a new way of thinking about God, life, and theology; or to be a part of helping them ask better questions, or rid themselves of some unhelpful theologies. I thoroughly enjoyed it, and am looking forward to teaching Christian Theology II this spring semester.

I also officiated my first wedding a couple of weeks ago for one of Shey's cousins, and it was also a great time. Stressful at points, mostly because we were all trying to figure out how to best bring all of the details together, but when it was all said and done, it was a great time. Good food, family, friends, and two people eager to begin a new phase of their journey of life together.

Lastly, and everything isn't all said and done quite yet, but I turned in last week a manuscript for a book titled Sacred Hope for an organization in Kansas City called Barefoot Ministries, which is under the Nazarene Publishing House. It is written and geared towards students, and aimed at helping them interactively engage with the theology of hope: hope for tomorrow and hope for today. It is a short book, most likely in the 60-75 page range. I haven't received word yet if the manuscript has been accepted, so I haven't gotten my hopes totally up yet! Either way, it has been a wonderful process and a great opportunity to try to write a book. I'll keep you posted on how things work out.

I have been writing a lot for the book, and thus not writing much many other places. But writing so much over the last few months has sparked in me the desire to kick up some dust in the blog again. I forgot how much I loved writing until I was writing the book. I think the hardships surrounding Rowan's birth and Shey's back in tandem with graduating from seminary did a bigger number on me creatively, theologically, and emotionally than I was probably honest with myself about, and it showed in my lack of writing. I just wasn't at a place where I could simply be, and be in such a way where I could write transparently, even if only for myself.

So here's to 2010 and to more writing. Just in time to coincide with reading more poetry too. Love it.

hope in suffering

I have been thinking about hope a lot lately, for a lot of reasons, namely that my son Rowan just turned one about a month ago, and that I was recently asked to write a book for students on hope in the near future with a cool publishing house out in Kansas City (more on all this when some of the details get worked out, and it becomes official). But mostly because this past year saw some difficult experiences that have taken a long time for me to spend time sitting in, reflecting on, and let change me. I can't begin to describe the amount of hours that Shey and I have spent in conversation, tears, prayer, silence, and even yelling as the pressure that suffering caused erupted into our lives.

When Rowan was born June 10, 2008, Shey had already been in the hospital for over a week with intense back pain that the doctors had been attributing to Rowan pressing on Shey's sciatic nerve, but actually was the fruition of an infection developed in the bone of her spine which was also causing severe inflammation in the muscles near the infection and dramatic pain. Watching and being with Shey as the pain intensified for over a month prior to Rowan's birth, and especially right before and after his birth...all while the doctors tried to figure out just what was actually happening, were some of the most difficult days of my short life. And then, when Rowan was born with pneumonia and air trapped outside of his lungs causing him to breathe poorly along with being premature and a few other issues, the suffering intensified into new heights. Not to mention that for the first four days of Rowan's life, Shey and Rowan were in different hospitals, literally forcing me to choose between the two of them as they took up residence 1 1/2 hours apart. After three weeks in hospitals, both Shey and Rowan would come home: Shey, barely able to move on her own, with months of slow therapy, and a lot of medicinal treatment to go; Rowan, as good as new, and a toughness to complement his easy-going personality.

There were many other hardships during those three weeks at the hospital, and certainly plenty when we made it back home, but I am not writing tonight to try to spell out all of the suffering or to make anyone have pity for me or our situation at that time. In fact, Shey has known plenty of other suffering with her only sister suffering the traumatic effects of a brain injury suffered in a car accident nearing 10 years ago. I've stood at the bedside of a student with her parents as she breathed a final breath after a battle with brain cancer at only 16. We've got close friends whose newborn has already had multiple heart surgeries, and have been greatly encouraged and impressed with their tenacity, hope, and resilience. All this to say: both Shey and I know that everyone has or will experience suffering in their life. We aren't special, we don't have any claim to fame, or even believe that we handle things like this perfectly.

But I process and reflect through writing. And I have been shying away from writing about this for a long time. Not because I haven't wanted to...but because I wanted to let the experience of last year to sink in. To try to desperately to hear the still, quiet voice of God in the suffering and hardships of the past year. To let the silence fill my heart. To let my silence give room to hear the community of people around me, and to spend my time processing things deeply with the close family and friends who gave ears to listen, and wisdom to share. And I wanted to spend this past year with my new family. Shey and I have been together for a long time now, and there was a lot we wanted to process together, and enjoy together with the new addition to our family. Not to mention, for the last three years, I had been going to seminary full time plus working full time at the church, so I wanted to take a year to slow down, enjoy living out in the country, spend time with Shey and Rowan, and heal up a bit.

I'd like to post some thoughts on hope in suffering, and how I've worked through some of the dark periods of my life, not really for any other reason than that it is time, it is time for me to speak about it out loud to others, so as to name the suffering and reflect upon the hope found in suffering. Not hope because of suffering, not hope caused or brought on by suffering, but hope in suffering. Maybe later I will unpack all that theologically. But not right now.

I was reading over an email recently I sent to two close friends at a pinnacle of the hospital stay, as it was one of those emails that just comes out, like when you have to throw-up whether you want to or not...and I can remember a couple of words from the email, and weeping as I wrote. I wept because I had nothing to give, nothing that I was holding back, and I knew these two guys would be there and had already been there to listen. To hear me. To give ears, hearts, hands, and knees to the pain they both were watching me and my family experience, and go through with us too, as they shared in depths of the darkness with us. And the next morning, when I finally talked to and/or saw those guys, I experienced in a new way why Jesus necessarily had to come to earth. Why Jesus had to be a person, a living breathing, blood-in-the-veins, scraped hands, dirty feet, smelly of a person: namely, because hope is always embodied. Hope takes shape. Hope in some distant place isn't the grandest hope to me, hope found in others helps to give life meaning and possibility when suffering seems to be closing every door. And those two guys in numerous ways embodied hope and made it real, being living light in the stormy clouds of life's grey shadows.

And hope took shape when our families surrounded us, or my parents hopped on a plane the moment I called them for help. Or when moms, friends, kind nurses, or family stayed with Shey or with Rowan when I couldn't be with one of them. Hope embodied is the best hope of all. It is the perfect blend of hope that changes the present and the future. Hope embodied in voices singing to my son when I couldn't hold his hand, hope embodied in friends who helped Shey to laugh when tears had been the only words spoken, or friends who let the silence speak...and simply were present with us in that silence that speaks a thousand words without a sound ever being made. Or kind emails, voicemails, hospital visits, flowers, all signs, markers, reminders of a hope made real. This isn't some pie-in-the-sky hope. This isn't some "well one day things will be better hope." This is hope eternal changing the present reality. This is embodied hope that changed me. That gave hope in suffering, because it was embodied in others, when I couldn't find it in myself, or have the eyes to see it.

Does this mean that there isn't hope for the future, or that embodied hope is the only kind of hope? Surely not. But the embodied hope of today, is a marker, a sign, a cosmos-altering way of being in the world that actually makes a difference. As Jesus says so beautifully in teaching us to pray, "May God's will be done on earth as in heaven," amen. Amen. Hope embodied is hope that can illuminate the darkness of suffering. It doesn't remove the pain of suffering, or make anything easy. But it is real. And it is present.

hoping to avoid disappointment and disillusionment

Sometimes being interested at all in politics feels like a large and overwhelming process of simply hoping to avoid disappointment and disillusionment. A large part of me thinks that voting and a lot of the political process and governmental machine is an impractical and unrealistic vehicle in which to place hope and trust for real change. This is not to say that I don't think that at times our government or other governments have practiced elements of justice and goodness in our world, but in the spirit of many of the prophets of old, and in the spirit of many of the new, it is really hard to justify spending so much time reading, watching, and thinking about structures of power that seem to be spinning its wheels in mud that just ends up leaving the car stuck, and the people trying to push the car out from behind dirty and covered in mud.

I've given a lot of serious consideration to not voting this election. Maybe it just isn't worth it. Maybe I just need to spend time living the changes I hope to see and stop reading things that just make me mad or disappointed. Maybe voting is participating in a structure that ultimately goes against what I think are the hopes and dreams of God for our world. Is voting actually making me complicit with the "powers that be" in a way that I am to be held responsible for its crimes or failures that perpetuate violence, socio-economic injustice, racist tendencies, or exploitation in the name of freedom and democracy?

But this post, by Anthony Smith (Musings of a Postmodern Negro), struck a cord in my heart about a month and a half ago. It's a perspective that I haven't been able to shake. I think that it helps to articulate for me a sense of appropriated participation in government. Anthony helps me to reconcile some of my issues of participation in government because he points out a couple of important issues (not that these are all clear from his post, but hit on some things I have been thinking about):

1) Not voting is only a viable choice of a privileged people who have not known what it is like to not have the right to vote
2) Participation in government, especially in terms of voting can provide a change in leadership that certainly matters and will imply different policies, practices, and actions.
3) A lesser evil is still a lesser evil, and since my deepest hope is in another King and Kingdom, as long as I recognize the powers that be for who and what they are in contrast to this alternative way of living, participation in the governmental structures are still really important.
4) It is really important to remember the sin and inequality of the past and to work hard to discern how that impacts the present and will continue to inform the future if change is not sought in the here and now.

So, I am going to be voting this election. I am going to vote, because it is my responsibility as a follower of Jesus to do my best to hear the voice of the marginalized and voice-less in our country and abroad, i.e. the voice of my neighbors, and do my best to vote for the person and administration that will enact more of the practices that make equal the playing field economically, live out justice, break down walls of racial discrimination, are less violent, and more helpful to all people, not just the ones who typically benefit from the system. Voting to look out only for me and my pocket book and my own moral choices cannot be the only viable option (or perhaps a viable option at all in many circumstances?).

But I am voting not as one who is placing all my chips on the government to be the best hope for the world. I have no false conceptions that our government (or any government for that matter) is capable of fulfilling the hopes and dreams of God for our world in a finalized or fully realized manner. While governments may participate and play a role in justice being lived out, the kingdom of God and governments are not synonymous, and it is when they become synonymous that as Christians we must speak up and offer another voice because a lot of things have been done in the name of God and country that certainly cannot be of God. So I am going to be voting this year. And I will keep paying attention, but I will place my hope in a kingdom that is for the here and now, but is not controlled by one government, one political party, or perpetuated through violence. So here is to hoping to avoid disappointment and disillusionment by participating in the political process with an ear open to the truth-tellers of our generation.