Tools for the Middle Ground (justice, kindness, humility)

Tools for the Middle Ground (justice, kindness, humility)

Have you ever met someone that thinks everyone is just weak now-a-days? They believe that we’ve lost our backbone and are just too emotionally weak as a society; that we’re too soft and sensitive and can’t handle conflict as a product of our moral decay and obsession with political correctness. Maybe you’ve met some people that think the previous group of people are just “archaic” and insensitive, rude and dangerous people to our forward progress as a species. Maybe you are in one of these camps or just maybe stand somewhere in the middle of the war zone, wondering how to balance the extreme opinions dividing communities, friends and families all across the western world. What if I told you, in a way, both are true; That we are all weak, but that we have always been that way; although, let’s reframe the conversation. Let’s use a more true word in place of weak; we are all fragile.

There is no doubt that political correctness has been taken to an extreme in our society. We’ve reached a point that even a fact shared in the right environment, full of empathy and compassion, can be labeled as “bigoted” or “hate speech” and that these people must be canceled indefinitely. The issue with this type of name calling is that it uses extreme or unfair words that are by definition much weightier and complex than how they’re used (like the ones I have placed in quotations above). In turn, any possibility of positive conversation and mutual understanding is squelched by buzz words and closed minds. Whether or not there is any agreement, we miss out on the conversations full of potential for growth, compassion, healthy compromise and change.

On the other hand, the sensitivity was birthed out of centuries of oppression of the weak and glorification of the strong. The sensitivity is a wake up call to a society to recognize the injustice of shame-based division of those less fortunate or mis-valued. The irony is that this position now overvalues intellect and demonizes ignorance, using clever catchphrases and chants, wit and aggressive name calling to try to silence those in opposition to their ideals. This type of pushback to a position, not yet addressed in such a manner in a socioeconomic playing field, gave whiplash to the common conservative with simple, straight forward values.

Their values were based mostly off of their own practical experiences, what they’ve been taught in their circles of influence, and what has worked for their families for multiple generations. These people generally are hard working middle to lower-class people who haven’t lived privilaged lives in most definitions of the word. These are people who generally try to do the right thing and help raise their families in the best way they know how. You will see in their response to conflict a lot of call back response that mimics defensive recall. In contrast, the opposition believes creativity is equivalent to truth. As an example, one child might say to another, “you’re stupid” to which the confronted child would say, “no, you’re stupid.” A hot take example would be, “Black lives matter” in which those feeling attached would respond, “ALL lives matter”, using similar phrasing to try to protect their separate agenda or opinion.

What we see happening on both sides are people with separate experiences and view points. Some views are totally contradictory to each other, but there are commonalities between the two at their core. They both feel an attach on what they believe to be true and that the opposing worldview is the enemy to progress. They both feel misunderstood. They both generally want themselves to be comfortable and live the way they believe is a thriving life and would love if everyone else would live the way they believe is good. They all love the people that agree with them.

But as people, and specifically me as a Christian, I wonder how I am supposed to respond in this climate. I find myself as a political nomad. In some ways I think that’s okay, because Jesus identifies himself as a nomad to this world and the ways of it in passages like Mark 12:17, Matthew 8:20, Matthew 19:21 and other places as well. I suggest you check out all these and any scriptures in context, but Jesus didn’t have a conventional view on life. These examples don’t fit into a mold, because we’re not called to be comfortable, we’re called to love.

One of my favorite passages of scripture is Micah 6:8 and it says, “He has told you, mortal one, what is good; And what does the Lord require of you But to do justice, to love kindness, And to walk humbly with your God?” I love talking about the order and intentionality of the wording in this passage. Almost every translation agrees on the phrase “do justice” or “do justly” and some even say “act justly” but they all get across this image of justice being a duty and a command, something we must actively pursue. The part of this that always wakes me up is that the command to do justice is followed by the imperative to “love kindness” or “love mercy” as many translations state. Mercy or kindness isn’t supposed to just be done out of obligation, but must be proceeded by love. That means, even in justice, mercy and kindness must be cherished. Lastly, we see the call to walk humbly with our God; not in arrogance, seeing ourself as more worthy or good than another, but to walk in humility with our God who himself alone is good and just and merciful, who humbly chooses to walk with his second most rebellious creation besides the angels that rejected him and fell with the satan.

It’s almost as if the act of justice is to be done out of duty and the kindness must overflow from our love, and all decisions should be made in partnership and submission to God himself, but don’t we mostly see the opposite in our society? We see people on both sides pridefully waving their banners in view, hanging them outside their homes and across their social media pages. We hear screaming and name calling, belittling and arguing. We see people so in love with the results of justice, happy with the misfortunes of others, regardless if their punishment is equal or higher than they deserve. We see people being kind out of obligation, and mostly so it will bring them “good karma” (another misused buzz word) or when it will put someone in a sort of kindness debt to themselves.

With that being a common image we get though, I’m so happy to know people who are by no means perfect, but are living lives in pursuit of this verse. They’re fighting fort the justice of widows, orphans, women, the poor, and people of color. They are loving and showing kindness to those with opposing world views and walks of lives, not to encroach on their human rights but not avoiding the conversations of justice and truth within their world view. They fight to inform, but also listen and hear the other people’s side. They desire to walk humbly with God, knowing it’s nothing that they do that makes them worthy of God’s affection; that it’s only by God’s grace and through our weak and simple yes to him that we are counted as His children.

Are you a person who does justice, loves kindness and walks humbly with God? I hope you are! If you’re not, ask God to walk with you, ask for forgiveness and turn away from your selfishness, for any selfishness is a rejection of God’s control and an attempt to be ones own God of that area. You must also accept the grace of Jesus, then go ahead and ask him to transform and guide your life so that you might be bold to do justice, be secure in His love for you to share that love through mercy and kindness, and the foresight to walk in humility with God.

You are fragile on your own, so am I. Let’s rely on a strength that calls from beyond ourselves so that we might be a people that stand out as we make our way through this incredibly challenging and amazing life.

Anxious Security

Anxious Security

To be known and loved, is a wonderful place for a heart to reside, but those two truths can create a tension between a deep anxiety and an immense security. To be known is to be exposed, but is to also be heard. To be loved is to be accepted, cherished, protected. But love is not always unconditional and is sometimes undone by the exposure of our deepest insecurities, our most evil secrets and most painful traumas or injuries. Love has levels and not all love is equal. there is a true love that is available, yet because of the amount of cheap love we see, it’s almost hard to fully accept or believe. In response to this, my own instinct is often to put on my best face and share my best dreams. I try to only expose my traumas in ways that are palatable, and with grave explanation so as not to make myself seem to have any needs. I share my fears followed by the solutions because I don’t want people to think I am weak. I know a lot of good things and strive to live more freely, but we all are all still connected to the little versions of ourselves formed through the hurts and habits we acquired those many years ago with traumas repressed deeply in our subconscious memory. It’s hard to look into our most painful and most secure moments with equality of acceptance and see them both as worthy, but that is is the place we can start to become free; free from the critiques of the false self and striving to hide the uncomfortable and exaggerate what is holy.

It’s wonderful to see ourselves in secret, but deeper freedom is seen in the vulnerability of letting someone in on the deepest parts of you; to admit those parts to them and also to yourself, on record and out loud. Oh, how painful it is to open up wounds that have healed over on the surface that are killing you from the inside. Nevertheless, there is one that sticks closer than a brother, The Great Physician who knows your name, knows your pain. He hears you when you call, knows the source and is the cure. He asks us, but He asks you to come to Him in your weakness and heaviness of heart. He says He will give you rest. He fills you with peace that doesn’t make sense in your human understanding, and His love never ends.

To be fully known and fully loved is uncomfortable, because people fail us time and time again. There are rare people that I hope everyone has in their lives that show them a shadow of this type of full love. I want to be this type of person as I continue in lean into the security I find in friendship with Jesus. I find my anxiety shedding off, but there are flair ups, reactions when I place the weight of my value in the hands of someone who never asked to hold it. They don’t drop the ball of my self-worth because they want to drop it, but because the weight is more than they can carry.

I pray that I might some day find myself secure in the truth of my position before God, but until then, I will invite him into my anxious security.

Good Art (Poem)

Good Art (Poem)

There is no wasted love.
There is no great unknown. 
Rather, there are things our hearts have known well, 
that we have since forgotten; 
things needing to be uncovered.

There is no holy grail, there’s no perfect fairytale.
There’s love for sure, and there’s buried treasure,
but it’s mostly buried within us
and is found when our hearts are untethered.

There’s longing in a fairy story that’s far beyond the tales and glory. It’s truth deeper and truer than our own stories hold, because the things otherwise unseen are pictured in the form of battles and fantasy.

I can’t quite put my finger on the reason we feel so complete
or incomplete
or hopeful of something sweeter than these black top streets.
The stories point to something,
like the physical pain in my knees
and the thoughts weighing heavy on my chest hold equal credence.

I know I’ve seen and felt things,
heard and known things I had no business knowing.
I know I’ve felt love and been loved by a being much
grander than human, and outside of a scope we can see.
Though supernatural experiences from the outside seems like delusion, seeing them first hand, I have resolution.

In the midst of calamity, we find camaraderie,
within peace and anxiety and somewhere between joy and tragedy
there’s a constant that has followed through history. 

The earth has seen him and he’s seen the void before the earth’s beginning. His wisdom is unknowable and untamed, yet consistent all the same.
He’s a story teller through and through, a creative; no, the creative; Creativity himself.

I can not explain each stroke of his pen or why he penned me in.
I can’t explain the earthquakes or tragedy amidst the innocent.
I can’t fathom how this universe once wasn’t and now is
or all the dimensions within it, but I can tell you this: 

When he said he loved me, for a while I didn’t believe him.
In my mind I heard him say it, but I believed it was just inside my mind, that I was perpetuating a lie I’d heard all my life.

There are coincidences, but when there’s too many,
we can make inferences.
It took weeks, months, before I’d believed him.
The way I’ve lived outwardly changed and inwardly began to rearrange, but what I did in secret didn’t say I loved him.

My outward kindness was a cover for my selfishness.
My insecurity was blanketed by enough transparency
for people to see what I wanted them to see.
I was less concerned with what God saw from his perspective,
as long as his Christians thought I was “it”.

I wanted to be fully free from the dichotomy
and staying busy kept the feelings at bay,
at least until the evenings.

But there’s a difference between speaking it and living it.
My heart’s a mess without Jesus at the helm.
No counterfeit can stand up to the  genuine,
even if no one else can tell. 

If my senses are ever off track,
be it good music, a movie or a painting,
a bird singing, bees racing or a sunset that’s slowly fading,
good art points to something,
points to someone,
points to the hope beyond me and you.
It’s real, even if you don’t believe it.
If you conclude the truth,
there’s no turning back, there’s only through,
because love himself will pour himself into you.

We will never unravel all truth,
though through curious questioning,
there are dim views and little clues,
while blame is a warped and clouded mirror to look through. 

In practicality, I’d rather be safe than sorry,
to choose to trust a grander story that holds weight in history.
To give everything for a treasure that’s forever,
and if that treasure be untrue,
the life I would live would be enough of a gift
to this world we’ve been bound to. 

It is the most logical and most unnerving thing to give up total autonomy to a being we can not see, but from what I’ve seen, it’s worth the risk. 

*end scene*

Stop, slow, know (Poem)

Stop, slow, know (Poem)

to myself

Stop, Just stop. 
There’s something I can’t begin to explain.
It’s a shame. 
It’s something that is foreign to my joyful ways.
And when it comes, it want’s to stay. 
It finds a way to sabotage 
any dreams out in the stars 
and pulls them down to earth, 
but that’s not all.
I’ve given it a key into my vault. 
I’ve given it the gavel and the judges’ stand, 
and it uses that power to beat my foundation down to sand. 

And I stop, just have to stop, 
because there’s a lot of things I can’t explain, 
like why there’s Grace. 
It’s far more foreign to my melancholy ways.  
And when it comes, it comes in waves. 
It lifts me from the pit and reminds my brain 
that the dreams out in the stars 
that are oh so near my heart
are not so lost at all. 
That with all the noise around me, 
I didn’t hear the call. 
I started to forget the voice of the one who formed it all
and formed my heart. 

Fear tries to linger in my heart beat 
and pain tries to settle in my chest. 
When I start to uncluttered all my schedule,
I start to remember who I am.

That I am not a sum of all my pleasures, 
and stuff doesn’t fulfill my souls demands. 
There is still a good composer 
who can bring the tempo slower.

There’s freeing in breathing, 
there’s joy in winding in.
There’s peace in the knowing
that we are beloved by him.

There’s hope in the growing
and wonder in what hasn’t been.
In release, there’s knowing 
That he has the better plan.

Rise (Poem)

Rise (Poem)

This morning, I rise up from my bed, trying to seperate the things I learned in my dreams from reality.

Rising next is my phone screen. Within the Happy Easter posts are adds that I try to separate inside my psyche. Next to rise is my questioning. Wondering if I am enough or if indeed my daily “yes” to Christ is enough. I try to separate truth and insecurity.

My fork rises at the breakfast table. I wrestle with the need to photograph the serenity with family or to simply be.

The remote rises this year to tune into church with my friends that aren’t around me. I separate the urge to distract myself or sit back and the desire to truly praise and engage.

My heart sinks in humility as the elements of communion rise to my mouth. I separate the feelings of unworthiness from the truth that in Him, I am fully known and fully loved.

He has risen. And I have not purely separated out everything that’s truth and fantasy, but this one truth I know is that He has risen indeed.

Emotions rise within as I contemplate how his sacrifice unites what sin tried to eternally separate.

And when the son of man was raised up on that cross, and every joint was separated, Jesus’ love had not.

He raised his voice to the Father a few times that Good Friday before his soul would separate from his broken body, But when he rose again, he would speak again. In speculation, some doubted. Separately, the 500 plus people who had seen him surely could not.

And I rise in resolve that my belief in him is not simply because of a story or a tradition, but because, in the words of Job, “I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you;”

He is risen and with this I know; that the separation I feel is only in my own self condemnation. I come humbly now in simple adoration, remembering that the whole reason he came was so we could be with him. He wants me and he wants you; fully one with him.

And so, I rise.

Distanc ing (Poem)

Distanc      ing (Poem)

Fragile is my heart that longs for touch, that longs for something it can see. 

Fragile are my thoughts as they fail to remember the good I’ve seen.

Fragile is my body that is too week to lift the sorrow inside of me.

The weight is too great, the pain is too deep.

I lay in my bed, but I cannot sleep.

I speak of vulnerability, with glass walls built all around me. 

I Feel alone, but I cannot be.

My friends are here, but I’m distancing.

My God is here, but I’m not listening. 

*one day into social distancing* 

I’d been so busy I couldn’t think.

The pressures off, now my mind can think. 

Mixed feelings, but I’m thankful that I now can think.

There’s things important I’ve distanced myself from,

Things in my room I can’t escape,

Things in my mind I can’t erase. 

It’s more than sin, it’s more than rhythms.

It’s more then the closets and skeletons in them. 

It’s more then heath and wellness and wisdom.

For the depths I reached weren’t dug in a day, 

The selfish and pure motives weren’t traded for in one exchange.

The joy did not up and fly away.

Alone. 

Here. 

Safe. 

What will I do in the weeks to come?

will I get off my phone?

Will I grow and become?

I will distance myself from my vices that drown me.

I will dream larger, though my surroundings confine me.

I will draw near to the One who found me.

I will not be alone.

I am not alone. 

We are not alone. 

Loved Regardless (Poem)

Loved Regardless (Poem)

It’s one thing to be alone, but it’s another thing to feel like there’s no hope; like no matter what you do, no matter where you are, you’ll never find home.

It’s one thing to have someone by your side, but it’s another thing to know that no matter what you do, they will be closer then your body can stand, but closer then your heart could ever ask them to.

It’s one thing to love, but it’s another thing to know that a person would go to hell and back if it meant saving you.

It’s one thing to be betrayed, but it’s another thing to be back stabbed by the one by whom’s arms you felt most safe.

It’s one thing to feel, but it’s another thing to know.

It’s one thing to learn, but it’s another thing to grow.

It’s one thing to be ok, and yet another to feel safe when everything around breaks. To have peace when everything is great. To be still and take time when the grind brings results in the best ways.

It’s one thing to feel and another one to be led by what we feel, regardless of what is real.

In the wondering, take each step in the footprints ahead led by the hand of the one who made yours. Walk in step with the ones you love, but hold fast to the one who’s breath is in your lungs.

Feel the love, feel the pain, feel alone, feel framed, but breath free. Know you are seen. Know that if home never finds you or finds you empty, that there’s a being who weeps for you with tears unseen. He felt the things you feel today, he’s gone through them in different times, in different ways. He holds you closer then you can feel, but he hold you. Don’t give up. He’s here.

Anxiety Attach (poem)

Anxiety Attach (poem)

My heart is in my stomach. I’ve got lead in my veins. I step in the shower and try to scrub away all the painful thoughts. Scrub my head so hard my scalp is raw. Rub my body down until my arms are sore. Let the water rain down my face and I don’t even mind. Sit down, I’m panicking, elbow on my knees, I can’t even weep. Turn the water off. Dry my body off. Send a message, short and to the point, try to walk in love and not in fear or anger. I get so shaky I can’t stop my legs from breaking my balance. I lay down. Shake more violently, pray to God for some inner peace. Feel so alone and no one can see. Reaching out feels desperate, but I need it. Turn to my notes in my phone to write because it’s easy, but it can’t give me a hug now. It can’t talk me down. It can’t give me council, but it’s half past 1 in the morning and I feel like nothing is working. My heart rate is slowing to normal, my eyes grow heavier and God let’s me know he has me when I feel cold. He has me when I feel old. He has me when I think I should be farther along then I am. He has me when I’m desperately holding onto all that I know. He’s always faithful, always stable. He is The rock on which I stand.

Questioning Alone (Poem)

Questioning Alone (Poem)

*I wrote this because I needed to. I share it to remind you when you feel alone, you can know (if only in your head) that you’re not.

Lord, why do I feel like I’m all alone; like the progress I’ve made was all for not? Why do I strive and fail? Why do all of my ambitions feel fruitless? I’m walking up stream. A moment passes when I feel I’ve prospered, but I find my foot crushed by a stone. One moment, I feel I’ve made headway and the next, I am knocked down. I float down stream. There is no trace left in the ground beneath me to prove I’d gone anywhere. Do the trees have eyes to back me up? Do the mountain peaks stand up in my defense to vouch when I’m seen striving in the place I’ve already been for seasons that have come and went?

Why does it feel like I stand alone? I feel that I’m following the plans set before me and when I’m doing well people notice me, but they do not join me. When I’m starving and isolated and even in my dreams, don’t find relief, I’m left alone to sink.

In the high times of my life, I find rest in you, Jesus, and joy in the moments I spend with you. In my confident moments, I still hear your voice of pleasure, your peace when everything around me seems to be anywhere from building to crumbling, because I know you are with me. In my joyful days, my humor and laughter is uncontainable. In my persistent days, nothing on earth or beneath can stop me from following through with bringing the wonder in my mind to the world in the unique way only I could do.

But in my despair, the days I have reason to feel alive, I feel empty. One moment I can hear truth and put on the face I feel people want to see, and the moment I’m alone, my hope leaves as if I hadn’t heard a thing. The things that normally feel rejuvenating feel exhausting and even the littlest lie from any of my enemies can throw me into a spiral of self loathing. I find myself drained, lying in my underwear in the middle of the day, trying to find motivation through music or the Bible or anything. In the process, I usually find myself asleep.

These aren’t the places I strive to be or the mindsets I ever want to be having. In a few hours or even by the time I’m finished writing, I may have mental clarity. Hope will eventually arise along with energy and redemption of the waisted moments in sin or self pity.

We do not deserve whatever hellish conditions we put ourselves through when we’re held in a chokehold by the devil’s schemes, others lies and selfish tendencies, or the evil we can be to ourselves when our flesh proves to be weak.

Sometimes, I am my own worst enemy, but I will push through, learn what only my weaknesses can teach me, and force myself to bring others in with me that I know have my back. These are the hardest times to do it, but the most crucial times to get through it.

As a chain is only as strong as its weakest link, do not give up or disqualify yourself when your weak. Get reinforcement from one who is willing to be close enough as you reconstruct, build you up, and hold your ground. That’s what I surely need now.

Dream (Poem)

Dream (Poem)

There is a longing beyond myself. It pulls me most forcefully when I read or watch or hear a story of adventure and passion and mystery. The longing is not for something imaginary, but rather truer then the life I am currently living. I am pulled into something that isn’t, and maybe in this current reality could not be, but that doesn’t deter me from closing my eyes and feeling free, content in a dream. 

If it be the new Spiderman movie or the musical “Once” or a concert or hearing someones dreams, I cannot leave without inspiration flowing through my veins and into every vessel inside of me. I’m inspired in spite of the fiction, that it is not currently true, because it reminds me that even in fantasy, we are awakened to greater things then living, working and dying. There is beauty in the wondering; how I long to live an adventure. My lungs feel stuffed up when clogged with practicality. 

It is important for a person to dream, even if that dream never comes true. To dream is to create. Sharing that creation with another is a more beautiful picture of faith then any lecture could ever portray. 

There’s a time to swing back into reality. There’s a time to schedule, plan and critique, but when do we schedule a time to dream? For to dream is to step into hope of greater things.

Story, fiction, and passion are each portals to the truth that this life is not all we’ve been made for. There is truth beyond the cubicles or fork lifts or house calls or stacks of paper. There is life beyond the plans and five steps to success, beyond the meetings and desks, beyond the 9 to 5 and books and tests.

There’s freedom in the open air, adventure in decisions that cause you to risk, joy in the unknown. When you go for that thing that everyone says will not pay out without the proper certificate or experience or training, ask yourself the question, “are these opinions a help or a hindrance to me fulfilling the dreams that pull at my heart strings?”

Write down the stories or passions you hold in your heart. Jot down a reality if you had all you needed. re-read it. Don’t let your imagination be flooded with what ifs; fight for potential beyond what is in plain sight! The stories of justice and fighting for truth ,where good conquers evil when evil seems like it cannot loose are stories for fighters like you. dream. Forge through.

Ps. If you feel like this is for someone else, this likewise is for you. You too, dream. Forge through.