The Pain & Substance of Gratitude. Happy Thanksgiving. [REPOST]


Yesterday, the annual meal referenced in this post occurred at my work, so I thought I’d re-post this today on this Thanksgiving Eve.

Sorry that this isn’t your typical feel-good Thanksgiving post.

On Tuesday, my job had a large Thanksgiving lunch for all the staff and clients we serve. I got my food and sat down next to some of my coworkers and across from a client I had never seen before. She was very friendly. She didn’t ask me my name or anything; she just began asking me questions about what I was doing for the holiday, where I was going, if my parents were still alive/together, if I had any siblings, so on and so forth.

As she kept firing one question about my Thanksgiving week after another, I started to feel the awkward tension developing because I wasn’t returning any of these questions back at her. I wondered if my coworkers thought this was odd of me to do, but it was very intentional.

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[art credit: “Freedom From Want” by Norman Rockwell]

“Sleeping Alone”: for all those hurting in their singleness…


My good (online) friend Lore Ferguson (for whose site I recently guest-posted) just had an old post of her’s published on the site The High Calling. It’s called “Sleeping Alone” and it’s some of her meditations on the sustaining life of God in her singleness.

And wow, is it amazing. It’s raw, honest, unflinching, and gracious. Read it right now and then come back here. Here’s an excerpt:

Singleness is a beautiful thing and when I take account of the past decade I see a faithfulness to its beauty in my life in a way that only comes from grace, but I also see a succession of tiny funerals every step of the way. A cemetery full of them. Adventures I have had alone. Mornings I have woken alone. Moments I have reveled in alone. Each one bringing joy in its experience and mourning in its completion.

Life is meant to be shared and marriage is not the only way to share life, I know this, but the mystery of two flesh becoming one is a mingling that cannot be known by me, with my bed all to myself, 400 thread count sheets, open window, and quiet morning. And I mourn this.

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Please help me give my money away! [UPDATED]


As I said the other day while introducing Lent this year, the Lenten season has historically been marked by three practices of those that participate in it. Prayer and fasting tend to get most of the attention, but almsgiving is another component of a Lent-historically-done-well. Almsgiving is the ancient term for giving materially of your resources for the purpose of charity, love, and grace.

I have never been good at giving my money away. Tithing has always been difficult for me to practice; giving to the homeless has been hard; and I always have a good excuse why I’m not able to give to some cause greater than myself. Sure, I’ll talk about the organization or even write a blog post in support of it, but it’s hard for me to part ways with my money.

This season, however, I wanted to try an experiment to fight against this and hope and pray that God meets me in it and grows me in deep, lasting ways.

This Lent, I want to give away some of my money everyday. For Monday through Saturday (the Church considers Sundays Lent “mini-breaks”), I want to give some amount of money to a non-profit or charity that can use it to help others.

But I need help.

If you have a non-profit or charity or social justice organization that you particularly like, could you leave a comment below telling me what it is?
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The Pain & Substance of Gratitude. Happy Thanksgiving.


Sorry that this isn’t your typical feel-good Thanksgiving post.

On Tuesday, my job had a large Thanksgiving lunch for all the staff and clients we serve. I got my food and sat down next to some of my coworkers and across from a client I had never seen before. She was very friendly. She didn’t ask me my name or anything; she just began asking me questions about what I was doing for the holiday, where I was going, if my parents were still alive/together, if I had any siblings, so on and so forth.

As she kept firing one question about my Thanksgiving week after another, I started to feel an awkward tension developing because I wasn’t returning any of these questions back to her. I wondered if my coworkers thought this was odd of me to do, but it was very intentional.
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“I once dated someone that…” {on enduring love}


 I hate being able to say that line.

I was reminded of this when I was walking out of one of my neighborhood coffeeshops this past week and overheard someone begin a story like that just as I walked out of earshot. The person saying this–a woman–said this in an almost cheery way. My first thought was, “I never say that phrase in that tone.” At least for me, there is a sobriety and somberness that I feel whenever some sort of reference to an old relationship comes up.

So, like I said, I hate being able to say that. Yes, yes, I know: I’ve learned much in these experiences and my story is my story and I wouldn’t be who I am and where I am without them. I wouldn’t know God, suffering, people, their hearts, counseling, or relationships in any sort of depth or in a way that could help others had I not gone through these things.
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My Ex-Girlfriend, the Blog: a story of relationship, loss, & finding again


[All links in this post open in new tabs. You’ve been warned.] 

We know the story well. You start a relationship and it’s exciting at first: it’s new, it’s unfamiliar, and each day seems to hold a new discovery or a new inspiration. There’s a dynamic sense of interaction and give-and-take that inspires you to share more and more of yourself with this person. You learn more about yourself. You learn more about them with whom you are sharing this stuff. Your thinking sharpens and you spend much of the day musing about what you might tell them and when you might interact with them once more, wondering about how you might phrase something or to what detail to speak of a certain thought, feeling, or sentiment you had.

When days go by without interaction: you ache; they ache.

But then it happens. These interactions begin to feel a little more like a duty than a delight. You feel the weight of expectation and it begins to stifle the feelings you once had. Those days that go by without interaction feel more like reprieves than punishments. You feel the strings of your own heart beginning to unwind from the ball of yarn that is there’s.
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Interpreting & Applying Proverbs (thoughts on Proverbs 10:12)


Proverbs is always such a weird book to try and apply to your life. The theme of the book is what? Wisdom. Is it teaching wisdom to give people a bunch of cookie cutter situations and tell them how to act? No.

In Proverbs 26:4-5, we see two Proverbs back-to-back that say opposite things. One says “Answer not a fool according to his folly, lest you be like him yourself”. The very next verse says “Answer a fool according to his folly, lest he be wise in his own eyes”.

Long story short, all of the book of Proverbs flows from Chapter 1, which talks about the fear of the lord being the beginning of wisdom. Those two contradictory proverbs show us that the book is not meant to be a cut-and-paste sort of thing. It’s not the case that a fool could simply read it, start acting like the “wise man” found throughout Proverbs and suddenly be wise (how would he apply those two verses above?).

Wisdom comes not from doing the things the wise man does, but by being the kind of wise man who fears the Lord and can discern what response to use in a given situation at the right time.
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i am not my own




…fast falls the eventide; the darkness deepens; Lord with me abide…

Both viruses and people get themselves into us, infect us, surprise us, and change us–both for good and ill. And when they depart we are left with that most complex simplicities of emotions, asking simply: what was that? The story, the episode, that previously seemed to exist with such continuity now seems so disjointed from all others that “the purpose” seems our only thought.

…When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, Help of the helpless, abide with me…

We wonder, we wander, seeking our Home, our Rest, our Selves. We recast our history in the eyes of this present trial, this present pain, this present darkness, and feel the twitch and fear that comes whenever we seriously consider all we’ve done before and all it represents within us–all the trials caused, the pains committed, and the darknesses within us.

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The Best Wedding Scripture Reading Ever (Marriage Blessings, Andrew & Laura!)


One of my dearest friends got married two weeks ago. He had originally asked me to do this Scripture Reading at the wedding. But unfortunately, the drive from Philly to Newark, Ohio is a long one, and many variables can make for much delay, and indeed, this is what happened. Anyway, to add to the pain of this loss, this particular set of Scriptures that I was going to have the honor of reading just happens to be the best set of Scripture readings I’ve ever encountered for a wedding. No Song of Solomon or 1 Corinthians 13 here; just a proper and exegetically sound exploration of the sweeping story of God’s relationship with his own Bride, the Church. Therefore, I felt compelled to share these verses with you today.

Andrew and Laura, I pray that this feeble attempt at publicly participating in the celebration of your union communicates the love and grace of our Lord to your hearts.  May it bless you.

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Open Mic: the Blog Reset Button (I need your feedback!)


shrug

I need some help with this blog.  I don’t know what to do anymore.

There are a few reasons for the lack of posts recently here at the long way home.  My job and living situation notwithstanding, I really do feel my thinking, writing, and inspiration slipping through my fingers like sand with each passing month I go while not in school.  I really miss it.  Even my very ability to think deeply feels muddied by the monotony of having a 9 to 5 job.  The deepest, most meaningful things I’ve said or written in the past several months have only been regurgitations of things that I said or thought months ago.

The good news is this: this seems to be changing.  Or at least, the desire to see it change is growing. I’m finally finding the rhythm I need at work to find time to write.  I’m reading and listening to the right things that are spurring me to think once more– driving me to want to create again.  I seem to be hearing once more the whispers from all those albums, short stories, plays, blogs posts, articles, books, and even my forlorn podcast I was working on way back when.  It’s all pretty exciting.

But…
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On Christian Books & Marriage (and a great 48-hour book sale)


trippI’m not married.  I don’t even see it on the imminent horizon for myself. But it’s something I’ve waited for, have tried to prepare myself for, and have written my fair share of poetry about throughout the years (here’s a sampling of my passion for it, my confusion about it, my fears about it, and my desire for it).  The Westminster Bookstore is having a 48 hour sale ending at 3pm on Friday, April 16th.

There are two books that this sale affects, but there are three books I’m mainly talking about in this post, so don’t stop reading until I get to the third.  The main book being promoted in this sale here is Paul Tripp‘s new book, What Did You Expect?: Redeeming the Realities of Marriage.  The second book is not a new one, but it is one of WTSbooks’ “favorite books on marriage”, and that is John Piper‘s This Momentary Marriage: A Parable of Permanence.

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Last night, I broke bread with Kenny G


Channeling my inner stereotypical-broken-hearted-teenage girl, I went to WaWa last night to pick up some Ben & Jerry’s (Stephen Colbert’s “Americone Dream”, in case you were wondering.  I’ve written before about the spiritual experiences both  B&J have brought me.). I had just gotten off work and was about to head home, pig out, and catch up on some TV. I pulled in, got some gas, and then pulled up to the side of the actual store to get my ice cream.

I saw the usual “poor guy” sitting on the pavement on the side of the building asking everyone that passed by for their spare change. The usual little battle happened inside my mind: Oh God, I’m going to get asked for money aren’t I? Okay, what walking path can I take that keeps me just far enough away from him that he doesn’t actually ask me. I’d rather say nothing than have to say no and feel bad later. Ah! What am I thinking! Stop it, Paul! Why are you so heartless? This is not the Gospel. Serve him.

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“My Cali Girl?” (a poem)


Oh, God, I knew it!!

Right when I stopped seeking
is right when I would find
the right one!
I mean, the right one? Because I don’t know . . .

First inductee into the club of my infatuation
So many years ago, but only for a time.
Shot down once, so I moved right along,
Losing closeness day by day, week by week, month by month
Class by class

But now you’re back-
But I thought you left!
Off to see the real sunset and the real ocean,
And the real you; but nonetheless.

Strange occurrences accompany this new reacquaintance:

Images of rings and white
and things so right
flood my conscious mind;
Images of laying and lying
And praying and dying
For You:

A face horizontal caressed by
sunlight slits through bedroom blinds
days, years after a honeymoon shared.
Counting wrinkles day by day
And counting sheep night by night
Beside you.

But the night is dark and hard to see
Are you the face that will set me free?
I strain my eyes, while confusion sets in,

And now you’re coming back, away from real sunsets, and real oceans,
The real you – Is it a sign?

Oh God, I don’t know it!

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