Part of It All

This is the time of year to be thinking – and writing – about gratitude. But instead, I find myself thinking about limits.

Every day, we run into them: limits of our physical body, our emotional reserves, and our time; limits on our perspective on the world based on the life we’ve lived; limits based on where we have been born in place and history. Limits imposed on us outwardly, or limits we keep trying to outrun that come from within. Whether we must accept limits that feel isolating and debilitating, or we simply get overwhelmed by the demands of a full life, all of us feel constrained by the limits of time, personality, or place. We long at once to be everywhere and here, experienced in all things yet an expert in a few, having more and having less.

Not until we realize that this hunger in us is a seed of eternity will we plant it deep into the soil of our finite limits, and let it grow. Continue reading

With Love from Thailand

Fourteen years ago, I knew what I wanted to do with my life. 

Fourteen years ago, I first learned about sex trafficking in Southeast Asia (and then, all over the world). This was where I first came in contact with a team headed over to do missions work in Thailand. When I first said that someday, somehow, that would be my life, too.

Over the next 8 years, I continued dreaming of making it there someday. I watched several friends visit and show me pictures of this beautiful country. I made actual plans to arrive there more than once. Looking back, I think this dream of “Thailand” was the only tangible thing I could grasp onto that represented my desire to see the world, do exciting things, make a difference, be involved in justice. But instead, my husband and I were given the opportunity to travel and study in Amsterdam for three months. This had never been in my “plan”–and yet it fit so much better into preparing and training me for actual work right here in my hometown. 

I love that God can redirect the desires of our hearts so gently and perfectly. Often our current dreams are only a seed of the bigger desires He has placed inside us. After our time in Amsterdam, I set the dream of Thailand aside. And yet, I still carried an incredibly tender spot for the country in my heart. 

I am where I am because of this dream. It was the dream of Thailand that led me to Amsterdam; it was the time in Amsterdam that led me to my work with Loom. I can’t think of any job I’d rather be a part of than working with local leaders in caring for the most vulnerable around the world. Which is why, when I had the opportunity to travel with Loom for a training in Thailand this October, I felt this incredible nudge in my soul. Things were coming full circle. I just had to show up and see what God was going to teach me next.

Part of me wondered – when I arrived, would I feel a renewed sense of passion to join anti-trafficking work in Thailand again? Would I hear a new call? Would I want to stay?

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I landed in Thailand with the sense that I was on a pilgrimage, with no idea what I was seeking. What I did know, is that I was there to learn, to connect, and to receive. As part of the global World Without Orphans Forum, Loom was hosting a two-day pre-summit intensive training called Next Steps: Critical Interventions for Working with Children at Risk. It was incredible to sit in the room with leaders from around the world who shared a passion for preventing the vulnerabilities that lead to trafficking, abuse, and exploitation. 

This was the first official launch of our new curriculum, which meant that all the preparation for each day of training kept me very busy. But on the last day, as we all transitioned to being a part of the full gathering, I loved getting to sit longer with leaders and hear their stories and struggles. 700 leaders from over 70 nations were here to discuss how we could partner together to protect children, and I felt so privileged to be a part of it. 

“Mostly we have been reactive and issues-based” when caring for vulnerable children, commented Rebecca Nhep, Senior Technical Advisor at Better Care Network, “Something needs to shift, [to] ground our decision-making in the needs of the systems.” Collaboration and interdependence understands that we all have a place in addressing a “gap” of the system – and that we don’t need to each reinvent the wheel and try to do everything. 

During my time there I met leaders running children’s homes, foster care programs, training programs, advocacy in law and justice, foundations, media advocacy, and much more. I sat in workshops led by a partner of ours in India, Anu Silas, and those using media and communications to tell stories of truth and dignity. It was encouraging to be there on behalf of Loom, and see how hungry leaders are for true partnership and collaboration. Out of this time, new and stronger partnerships are emerging between Loom and organizations around the world. We hope to see some of our new friends again in East Africa and beyond! 

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Like I said, I went into this week of trainings, meetings, and connecting wondering if I would sense a new leading in my spirit from God. What really happened is that I did receive a “call” – but it was a recalling back to my first love, not to my first dream. He reminded me that my first calling is always following Him, and helping people understand their value as made in His image. Over and over again throughout the week, I found myself simply in awe of God’s beauty, love, and creativity in all He is doing in the world. Surrounded by leaders from so many nations reminded me of what a small part I play in a much larger tapestry. The Spirit is vibrantly present everywhere, and I can rejoice in my insignificance in simply getting to witness a piece of how He is working around the world. 

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It is stirring to arrive

And find you already here.

The sign of the dove encircling

Hill and endless hills

Sky and endless sky

And you, endless you:

There is no time you do not

Go before me;

There is nowhere you are not

Gently weaving grace into the world.

I came here with nothing

But what You had already given.

All the journeys I have taken

have been the map to here:

a pilgrimage with no relic,

a destination with no ending

a glimpse into the bountiful everness of You.

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After the Forum, I had the huge privilege of staying in Thailand for another four days, hiking in the national parks with my best friend Kimberly. We soaked in so much beauty, ate delicious street food, and wandered the old city. But my favorite moment by far was our last night there, visiting the Karen Leadership Development Program and worshiping with a circle of kind, talented emerging leaders. Once again, I was reminded of how little I was needed there, in Thailand – and how grateful I am to be part of the global church, this diversely stunning body of Christ. 

 

What was I seeking on this pilgrimage? I was seeking Him.

For everywhere I arrive, He is already present.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Blessing

All of us wrestle with suffering. Our own, the suffering of others, or a tangled interconnectedness of the two.

It is a good thing that we work to ease the suffering and pain of others. This isn’t what we were created for. At the same time, we are also helpless in the face of so much suffering.  We don’t know what to make of it.

But if we’re willing, we can let it remake us.

This is what I find so beautiful about redemption: that in the end, the same God who weeps with us in our suffering also uses that suffering to transform and refine us. Even when we cannot change the circumstances, we can allow ourselves to be formed by them. In that vein I’d like to share my next poem with you: a blessing for the suffering.

 

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All the Life We Cannot See

There was a time when anything felt possible.

When the world was enchanted, shot through with the presence and power of God.

When nothing was “just” bread, “just” water, “just” music.

Today, by contrast, we live much like the Apostle Thomas. Unless I can see it with my eyes, unless I can prove it with data or brain scans, unless I’ve come to this conclusion by studying chimpanzees, I won’t believe.

After all, it’s just words. Just bread. Just water.

But what if we’re wrong?

What if the two are not mutually exclusive? What if something as simple as water, or words, or even air is the doorway into the most real reality there is?

What if the physical world is the very place we were created to connect with God?

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You see, our souls and brains have a body. It was never God’s intention to simply create a mind as much as to create a man. Yes, we must learn about God – we are called to love Him with our whole heart, soul, mind, and strength. But of we believe we can simply think our way to God, to holiness, then we have no idea what it means to be truly human.

Because we’ve been trained for several centuries now not to see the world as enchanted, trying to see it any other way can feel like putting on a pair of glasses you don’t really need – they may be cool, but they seriously distort reality and end up handicapping more than helping us.

But may I suggest that in reality, we are suffering from a severe case of near-sightedness? And because we can’t see all that we can’t see, we’ve convinced ourselves that it’s not really there?

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It would take a long history lesson to go into the many ways the enlightenment period and the advance of technology has seriously shaped our society – including our Christianity. The sheer number of books and articles written to scientifically defend the faith is just one example of how much pressure we are under to produce facts and data in order to believe.

I’m not here to discount the importance of education, research, learning, or data. These things certainly have a good place and point us towards God. But I also can’t help but think of the many times God has defied the “laws” of nature in the past. How He confounds the wisdom of the wise and never, ever works like we would expect. How the literal definition of being God is being outside of “reality,” of our human definitions and limitations. God may have created data and science, but He also transcends it.

At the risk of getting in over my head, let me get to the point: For thousands of years, humans experienced the world as enchanted – that is, shot through with the spiritual world. (It’s also worth noting that I’m writing to a very Western audience here, as there are still plenty of places in the world where this is the case). We have lost something very precious by throwing this away with all of the superstitions and animism and idol worship that we (rightly) don’t endorse in the Church. We have flattened the world to our five senses and squinted so long in nearsightedness, we’re blind to all that we can no longer see.

But what if we could train ourselves to see the world with different eyes? What if we could step through the doorway and see everything in three dimensions again? That is exactly what we must habituate ourselves and our spirits to do. If you remember my blog on liturgies last year, this is also one of the reasons we have been drawn to liturgical and contemplative prayer.

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A trembling membrane is all that separates us from the world beyond our sights. The problem is, we’ve been living another way so long, it isn’t easy to remember this. It takes intentional focus to “stop squinting” and see life with a new lens. But when we do, we live differently. We go through our days tangibly conscious of the loving presence of God – whether or not we “feel” it. A smell, a sound, a familiar touch – all of these become a way we not only appreciate the world, but commune with God.

This is why I started the Pilgrimage Poetry Project. I want to challenge myself to practice this way of seeing the world. I want to go through my day with an unbroken conversation with my God, and that means I need to show up and pay attention to the world and the people around me.

I want to notice my days, savor the gifts they bring, and learn from them. Mostly, I want to remain attentive to the whispers of the Spirit in my own heart. And maybe someday, I can be present with others in their questions and their search for wholeness, and I can help them listen to the whispers in their own heart as well.

But it starts with my own work, my own transformation.

It starts here. It starts today.

Am I paying attention?

 

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Introducing the Pilgrimage Poetry Project!

I’ve been covertly writing poetry all my life, but lately it has become an important spiritual practice for me. I call it the Practice of Paying Attention. Not only has this practice been incredibly healing, but it’s awakening a part of myself I’ve always been a bit reluctant to share with the world – the part of me that delights in beauty and mystery.

The poet Paul Murray speaks of the moment as “the place of pilgrimage to which I am a pilgrim.”  When I think about how I want to live my life, the word that always comes to mind is as a pilgrim, in the most ancient sense of the word.

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To live as a pilgrim is to live simply, purposefully, and expectantly. To have a clear destination in mind, but to take what comes day by day. It is cultivating the art of paying attention to the fullness of the life around us.

Every moment is transparent with possibility. Each person we meet is a fellow-traveler with a story to tell. The question is: Can we remain open to being changed?

The more I’ve thought about what I wanted this 28th year of my life to be about, the more I keep coming back to this. And so, I’m taking a deep breath and “going scared” and inviting you to journey along with me. I’m calling it the Pilgrimage Poetry Project. For the next year I’ll be writing poetry following the ancient Church calendar and seeking to find God in the moments of every day. Afterwards, I plan to publish a small collection of poetry and art (eek!). It would be a delight to have you journey with me on Instagram, Facebook, and right here.

PPPLogoOriginally I thought I should wait and begin the project at Advent, the official beginning of the Church calendar. But then I thought – if this is all about finding God in the ordinary, then what better time to begin than Ordinary Time?

In that vein, I’d like to begin by sharing my first poem with you. My hope and prayer is that this project will help us all to practice the art of paying attention to our lives and find God present there.

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