Truly knowing him?


Sunlight, illuminating mud

Thursday, 2:49 PM, background musings while I work:

This truth is carrying me through.

Writing is a bit cryptic today, I hope not too cryptic.

If a friend who knows my faith walk were to ask me today, “How are you doing,” (as in, “Where are you, spiritually”), I would answer in a way that is new, for me; new after a long, long, stretch of open anxiety and inner grief. I would answer that I’ve grasped a sliver of truth – a certain peaceful truth. And that this truth is carrying me through trouble (like, actual trouble).

This truth is carrying me through.

It’s a confidence that comes from deep in the center, the core, my soul.

It is the Spirit’s confidence pushing through. And it sustains and uplifts me through the turbulence I’m experiencing in my relationship with [important organization in my life] and in my relationship with [important person in my life] right now. There are very real sadnesses in those areas, but having gotten a hold – by just one tiny finger – of the golden ring (a life preserver!) of this sliver of a certain peaceful truth, my soul is lifted up, just above the dark water. My soul stays steadier. Not glassy calm. But markedly, undeniably, steadier.

Though my heart breaks daily over some legitimate troubles in my life, my soul is more at rest than it has been in a long, long time.

This is new. To be aware of the trouble, yet not rocked by the trouble. Amazing.

Seeking and listening for truth – true Truth, if you will –  seems at last to be bearing fruit.


(Verse note: John 8:32)


Deeper still

20170712_aWednesday, 6:50 AM

For a year now, I’ve been consistently devoting, as they say, the first five minutes of my day to reading scripture and praying. Spending time with God, as they say. This is likely one hundred percent non-impressive to seminary students or anyone raised in the evangelical church, but for me, it’s an actual achievement.

At this juncture, however, I’m tempted to write off the practice as simplistic. Shallow. Even empty at times. After all, I’m talking to him all day long – consulting, petitioning, thanking. What’s so special to him (or me), about my habit of sitting down, confronting the blank journal page and open Bible, and recording the thoughts and/or inspirations that may come/or not come?

It’s hard to press through discouragement sometimes, to take a deep mental breath and reach through the thick and thorny brush of my pessimism, pull the book within reading range. Slow down the thoughts that, from the moment I rise, are already racing, planning, spinning the day… and listen to the Voice behind the verses.

But in my soul I know, as the scholarly saints of old and of today (who are, I want to emphasize, most definitely not me) know, that there’s always more to be heard.

That devoting the first five hours of your day would not get you to the end of the river of Life; would not exhaust the Love that is waiting to pour into your words and actions, should you open to receive it.

What’s amazing is that I still resist.




(Verse note Mark 10: 45)