Tangent

And I sit here on the edge of darkness and light

and I linger and fret

for I know the Tangle is deep and dangerous

and I wonder if I should go in after you

or stay on the fringe and wait.

If I go in, the chances of my finding you

are slim

- the last time I saw you, you were running

pell-mell, away from me -
(for which I am confusedly and unequivocally sorry)

But I am waiting poorly, with anxious heart

for I know the dark is deep

and dangerous.

Oh, why do you linger there?

...and can you perceive the dark

from the light?

Please,

begs my heart,

do not tarry -

or if you do see the light,

stretch out a hand,

that Someone may grasp it

until you can feel the Sun on your face,

and see the Way easy to walk it on your own.

....
This was written for a friend, but on further and better reflection, I see 
myself (oh beam of judgement in my own eye!)
and how often and how well I run 
from the One who is Light, who is waiting...


I run because I don't believe.
I don't believe that He will be there, that He is waiting,
or that He is good - towards me - that He will answer, and
that He still has good and unparalleled plans and purposes for me.


The thief does his job well, whispering lies of mistrust, of unfaithfulness, of my own inadequacy.
Of inferiority and superiority and easier ways out 
of the thick of longing for Life and Reality in which I find myself 
caught in those moments when it falls silent all around...


So I start to run.
I run to distraction and I run to pleasure. 
I run to forgetfulness and I run to self-pity.
Perhaps... just maybe... the time has come to run back to His arms.
With all the strength that can be mustered.

Bad Medicine

“There's nothing wrong with you.”

The doctors said as they did test after test.

Or at least that the story I heard

as his body wasted away.

Rail thin and wracked with pain

But there was another story

whispered in English so no one could

understand, of one test

that did come back postive.

And he just didn't want to face the results.

The first story I heard from his own lips,

and the lips of his mother. A sad story

about incompetent doctors

who saw obvious symptoms but drew no conclusions.

The second from his brother-in-law.

I met him on a hospital bed on his last night

and we read passages from Romans

and prayed to the Doctor.

And he found a peace that he had never known,

...and my friend, his brother-in-law said 

the change was remarkable.

Cambodia, Nazi Germany, the A-bomb

The Congo, Rwanda, Joseph Kony,

Stalin, North Korea, Saddam and Bin Laden...

And day by day one hears of the symptoms:

petty tyrants, corruption, greed, apathy,

oppression, slavery, injustice, theft, lies,

infidelity, abuse, deceit and murder...

Are the doctors incompetent?

“They have healed the wound of my people lightly,

saying, Peace, peace, when there is no peace.”

Jeremiah 8:11

...or is it that the world knows, but doesn't want

to face the truth of it's desperate state?

“...who by their unrighteousness suppress the truth. For what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them.  For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse.”

Romans 1:18-20

I sure feel like I don't know much these days.

But I do know that yesterday
on a dark morning a

good man died, leaving a wife and

two young children.

I don't know 

who closed their eyes 

first,

but looking 

the other way 

never healed anyone.

A Little Higher

The street under construction, but the vendors around the corner

on the banks of the river were wetting feet and produce,

So they moved back onto the newly cemented road

And the waters rose a little higher.

First the house on the end of the street, building an extra platform

So the water couldn't touch them as they slept

But the waters rose, a little higher.

House by house it advanced, store by store

Street by street, curb by curb, conquering one structure at a time

Forcing relocation, then relocation again

Until even the main street was impassable

Homes unlivable moved to rented rooms, then to abandoned buildings

And still the waters rose, a little higher.

The bridge shut down to all but foot traffic

And smaller, narrower plank bridges were set up in place of sidewalks,

A slim course for the stream of people to pass

Attenuating balance above waters filled with

Fish and trash and splashing mer-children

Who went home at night with itchy eyes and irritated skin

From the sluggish waters that couldn't sweep away the filth

Fast enough, to sleep on damp boards above musty solutions,

Until at last

it started to recede

in the same way it came

one decimeter at a time

leaving a miry footprint

of sludge

and sand

and plastic bags.

10 meters down now and 

counting.

Recession

Rising rivers and

vengeful rain,

beating sun and

crying puppies.

Wasp stings and

backbiting,

hasty words that cannot be

retracted and

weights of silence.

Receding waters and

warming sun,

cut grass by the helping hand of a friend

and one more pup, still alive.

Forgiveness.

My world is full of

scattered thoughts and

incomplete sentences.

Redemption.

4am and 4am and 4am again.

One comes and

another goes

but I feel little moved by either.

Rest and rest and rest

people say.

But how can you rest

when there's so much need,

When you are working for the King...?

not for earning, not for works, but for love...

yet so tired.

Was this how Martha felt?

Truth and

grace and

strength and

peace

are all lost to

restlessness

and unnamed fears.

But there is One

who came

with perfect love

to cast out all fear...

if only I would

take His hand and

His yoke

and learn.

Weightlessness

Sometimes, it's easier to never say "hello" than it is
to have to say "goodbye."
And I am tired.
Tired of guarding my heart
            - against any possible disappointment, once again.
Tired of weighing consequences,
                         - and I know my scales are weighted.
Tired of turning away from people I LOVE
                 because it is just hard to know they will be far away soon.

And I am grateful.
Grateful to a God of second (and third and fourth and umpteenth) chances...
Who understands my numbness...
and offers Himself and His amazing

     open -armed and
     open -hearted and
     willing to hurt and
      willing to be rejected and
        willing to lose
          without conditions...

             ...agape love

as a solution.

I John 4:18 - 19
"There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love. We love because he first loved us."

Words and Gratitude

There's a scarcity of words these days, but I am grateful for:

Hugs around the knees from a random toddler in the middle of the road. 

Victor, 8 yrs old, with his "sidra" sitting next to me here at the internet, asking about "tu tierra."

Squatting by Estela washing clothes, catching up with neighborhood happenings.

"Madea Goes to Jail" with C and K late at night in my tree house.

Real coffee. And handkerchief filters.

Torrential rain. And a full tank to bathe/wash with.

Ezekiel. And Words from God. 

Hard silences and learning to listen.

Uncontainable laughter at the ri-di-cu-lous pictures that a mac can take.

Mexican food in Peru. 

Hearing dear voices and laughter on the other end of the line.

Late night conversations about grace in the dark with KB

KB's afternoon training program - jogging through Nauta streets and around Sapi Sapi.

Lunch at C's with fried fish and four niños.

Music... and songs that get you where you're at.

The missing. We only miss what we value.

Hope. I hear it does not disappoint. 

Faces. (with great joy)

(This is probably my favorite book of all time, apart from the Bible)

Hebrews 4 talks about entering God's rest 

(believing, trusting, resting in the truth of His goodness and sufficiency)

but I confess that these last few weeks have been lived writhing on the edge of anxiousness, of fear, of unanswered questions and doubt.

Oddly, right after the exhortation to rest comes this:

"For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart." 

v.12

The truth always starts in our hearts.

And even in my sleep last night, God was dealing with my heart... and I woke this morning with clearer vision than I went to bed with last night.

In this book, C.S Lewis addresses the questions of love, of truth, of trust, of the "gods" with his retelling of the myth of Cupid and Psyche. He speaks from the perspective of Psyche's older sister, who is angered and disenchanted with the gods by the way they have dealt with her and her younger sister. In my small opinion, C.S. Lewis is genius.

So, here are some of my favorite quotes from her (the older sister)...

"I say the gods deal very unrightly with us. For they will neither (which would be best of all) go away and leave us to live our own short days by ourselves, nor will they show themselves openly and tell us what they would have us do. For that too would be endurable. But to hint and hover, to draw near us in dreams and oracles, or in a waking vision that vanishes as soon as seen, to be dead silent when we question them and then glide back and whisper (words we cannot understand) in our ears when we most wish to be free of them, and to show to one what they hide from another; what is all this but cat-and-mouse play, blindman's buff, and mere jugglery? Why must holy places be dark places?"

Why must holy places be dark places? Indeed. 


Places of confusion, doubt, hurt, and frustration.


Job found them to be so - senseless heartbreak and God is silent. 
As did Moses, carrying a nation capricious and rebellious. 
As did David, anointed king, but fleeing for his life and living with the enemy. 
As did Esther in a foreign land with her own life and people on the line. 
As did Jesus who knew, but still wished for some other way. 


David says in the Psalms:


To you, O LORD, I call;
my rock, be not deaf to me,
lest, if you be silent to me,
I become like those who go down to the pit. 
Psalm 28:1


When God is silent, I despair... but then again, how often do I shun Him, when I am afraid of what He might say? 


The story doesn't stop there - for which I am also grateful. Her eyes are opened, and the older sister sees much more clearly:

“Lightly men talk of saying what they mean... When the time comes to you at which you will be forced at last to utter the speech which has lain at the centre of your soul for years... you'll not talk about joy of words. I saw well why the gods do not speak to us openly, nor let us answer. Till that word can be dug out of us, why should they hear the babble that we think we mean? How can they meet us face to face till we have faces?”

So much of what we think we mean, we do not understand.

     Oh, God, open our eyes... and thank you for your patience to lead us to understanding... Help us to see better, and to see you better... and truly.

"For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face.
Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known."

I Corinthians 13:12

My longing for the new year is to see more clearly, and to be real... whatever that may mean.

"Now to him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you blameless before the presence of his glory with great joy, to the only God, our Savior, through Jesus Christ our Lord, be glory, majesty, dominion, and authority, before all time and now and forever. Amen."

Jude 24-25