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.

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.

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.

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. 

Trevor Heinrich (a life unrivalled)

Trevor Heinrich (a life unrivalled)

The question is not of who won or who lost. The question is why did the cancer have to be such a sore looser? My friend, Trevor is home with Jesus.

It’s easy to say clichés like heaven couldn’t spend another minute without him or he’s in a better place and we’ll see him again one day. It’s easy because they’re true, but it doesn’t make the ache any softer for a wife who finds herself missing her best friend and her lover; her some much more then I could ever ponder. I know the little I knew him in comparison leaves an ache in my chest and tears in my eyes. My wishes to spend more time, write music and sing with him like we planned before the his voice was, for those dreams, silenced. But heaven and hell both know that his voice could not be silenced! He climbed higher then Everest, and reached father then the coast and around the world with his smile, his passion, his joyful exuberance. His faith was stronger than anything I’d ever seen and his gentleness was to the atomic level, only to be rivaled by his compassion like the ocean and his love vibrant and present as color itself. He thought deeply, dreamed wildly, followed his dreams so rigidly and tenaciously, he would push through steadily until the task was complete.

And though I struggle at moments to breath, I can’t imagine the chest of his Family who’s breath can only be replaced as the cries of sadness and grief are retracted forcefully to be followed by silence or tears or choking over the next emotion unable to be predicted or seen. Their family member who’s life on earth was not left unlived has been cut shorter then they would have ever imagined or expected. But his legacy and memories will never fade. He will never cease to be missed. They will know laughter again. They will breath easier, but he will always be a part of them. Grief will never become past tense, but the tension of that grief will loosen its grip for most days.

The thing of it is, we do not want to forget. The future is mourned not because he’s not with this moment, but because tomorrow’s reality is the same as today’s. The dreams made with him are now ours to trail blaze. In his memory, we gaze into what our friend would have done if he had even one more day. We must not waist our precious days in fear of what might happen. What if the things we set our minds to don’t turn out as sweet as we wished them to.

But what will happen when we look at ourselves, years later, in awe of a man who lived his life as closely to Jesus as he ever could, at that’s all we do? Will we not be moved to live more beautifully, love more purely, fight more passionately, and dream more wildly?

Or will we let ourselves return only wishing, but never being?

Trevor has changed my life. The hours I’ve spent with him have been few and far between, but they were rich in beauty, vibrantly refreshing, enlightening and full of permission to dream. I met him in 2015 and I say goodbye on the 24th day of June in 2019.

It has not fully set in, and I can’t begin to think I could scratch the surface of how special he is, but this is my account of Trevor David Heinrich:

He greeted me with sincerity, shared moments intentionally, exchanged art and encouragement mutually and humbly. He dreamed and encouraged me to dream with faith I hadn’t seen, laughed uncontrollably. He rock climbed skillfully and never gave up, pulling me to become better, even before his dream to climb to Everest’s peak. He let me crash on his couch, sat down with me to have coffee, mid hike accross the US as he raised money. He shared his friends in a Bible study and sat with me, embraced me, and affirmed me in the man I was and was to be. We watched a play at Sight and Sound before he would work there. We climbed some more after he had been going more head on towards his Everest dreams. I sat with him after I got him ice cream. We ate it together. It was peanut butter cup. It was supposed to be dairy free, but that accident became his cheat in his week. We laughed so hard, after he said, “This is so good! I can’t believe it’s dairy free!” We looked at the package, noticed my mistake and lost it. I felt bad as his laughter was interrupted by pain and coughing, but these are some of the moments I never want to release. I saw him marry the woman of his dreams. The light in his eyes could have challenged the sun as she walked towards him; when she took his name. I cut his hair, and spent time with him and his wife. He showed me the things that he was still passionately doing. A gift he was making for his beauty. The Kombucha bottle anticlimactically did not explode, but surely made a mess. Stella and him alike encouraged me and showed me true love and sacrifice. I prayed for him as I followed his story. He never let himself get bitter. He never lost his smile; that smile no one can forget. His heart was the purest. I wish I could have spent more time with him. I wish I could go back and play the times we did have, but my times with him are only a sliver his story that show how amazing he is. His legacy will not quickly fade, and his impact will surely never be counted or measured; it will continue to grow day by day.

The cancer took his life on earth, but it did not take his spirit. Trevor won the race. He is healed. He is whole.

Love Like a Lighthouse (poem)

Love Like a Lighthouse (poem)

When your shoulder no longer feels like a safe place to land; When you still give your heart, but you can’t give a hand; When your mouth wants to speak, but you know the words won’t stand; Is there anything to do when your love is like sand?

When your grace feels abrasive, and your peace feels like distance; When your love leaves a bitter aftertaste, Is there any way to comfort their soul?

When what you gave was at one time able to be taken and used like gasoline and now it’s as good as water in a gas tank, is all hope lost?

When a friend, or lover or family member is no longer able to see you like they used to, you must let another love them altogether. You must let go of the tether. It’s no longer held in their hand, it’s around their neck. To hold on is to cause them pain, no matter how much you’re trying to help, you’re stopping the flow of oxygen to their brain.

Love like a lighthouse. If they sail away, may they find another beacon to guide them, but stay steadfast in who you are. Shine brighter and brighter. Fuel your light, grow stronger in who you are. If they let you in again, you will both be better. If they move along, pray them onward.

You can’t hold them to you, let go of their anchor. Pray as they go. Show love when they let you. Don’t stop living, don’t stop growing. Please let them go, stop fighting and groping. You’re stunting their growth, you won’t bring them healing. Just let them go, you’re no longer shelter. Let them get clear of the storm, the waves are unbearable, let go, let go, LET GO!

And as you finally let them drift away, the sky might not clear. They might not cross over the horizon like you feared, but if they do, they’re out of your grasp, and there’s no longer a thing you can do.

Sometimes to love is to let go; if it’s your grasp today and your heart later, so be it. If your heart never stops singing for the one you’re releasing, may it be a song as free as the breeze, with your heart beyond a fantasy of what could be and into a realm where love transcends feelings.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails…”

1 Corinthians 13:4-8

Grief: Where Eyes Are Open (Poem)

Grief: Where Eyes Are Open (Poem)

Today, I hugged a lady that, last time I saw her, yelled at me for something so silly, I couldn’t even believe. Her face was red then, but it was also red today. Last time, it was from rage, and today from pain, because her husband has now two months been in the grave, almost to the day.

I had a chorus teacher in high school who was known for excellence, her grit, and for making students cry or at least want to quit any activity she would lead. I also know that before she passed onto the other side, she flourished in a place she didn’t choose to show often; in compassion. I saw her become love out loud and as her body withered down and the cancer tried to drown her out, her joy through the pain would grow stronger and stronger, even to her last day.

One time, I lost my dog. Before this happened, I would have privately mocked someone who blubbered over such a thing. I almost had him a year when I heard he was hit by a car. I cried so hard, screamed so loud, and could not speak; when I would try, I would only wheeze. I never felt that way before that day. I was broken. I could not alter what had happened. My heart has broken since through the death of friends, the moving away of my twin, and relationships that would finish.

And isn’t it interesting how in the darkest hours and seasons of grieving, that the ugliness in us takes a season of receding? Our eyes are open to greater things if we recognize that life is so much shorter then we like to credit it for, and eternity is so much grater then holding onto pain.

Understanding trumps rage, compassion smacks power in the face, and taking on someone’s pain as your pain is no kin to mockery.

A hug beat a fist, a listening ear can save a life, and a hand can hold someone’s world from crashing down.

Let the things that seem to break you down hold weight in your freedom and don’t loose it when you’re on the other side.

Let it lead you to a life that remembers pain is not permanent, but love and time are, in fact, the only things that can really heal that.