Embracing Weakness

A heart deadened to its own struggles can never be a refuge for the struggles of others.

– Shannon Evans

I hate my weakness.

Well, let me put it this way. Some human weaknesses – like mild fear, shyness, or the tendency to forget small details – may seem endearing. I don’t mind embracing the parts of me that are moving towards wholeness, even if slowly, or things that are just part of the way I was created. Some weaknesses I can live with.

But other flaws I really do hate. These are the parts of me that hurt other people, that can feel crippling, that make me wonder if I’ll ever slay the dragons that have become my demons. These are the places where I understand why people self-harm. To come face to face with your own deep brokenness can be a terrifying and even enraging experience. “Embrace” is the exact opposite of how we want to react.

And yet, if we do not learn how to engage these dark places of our hearts, we cut ourselves off from the fullness of connection, empathy, and healing we could experience.

Some of us have experience crippling weakness from our own bodies as well as our hearts. Some of us have had great wrongs done to us. It can feel as if life itself betrayed us, because we know this is not how it should be. And yet.

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“The power of the gospel is not that we no longer suffer or struggle, but that we no longer do so alone.” (Embracing Weakness)

While our pain and struggle is not what God intended on this earth, it can still yet be an invitation. In what seems like a dark hole, there can be a doorway. We are invited to allow our weakness to create new places of empathy and love in our hearts. We are given the opportunity to find new solidarity with the poor and the suffering in our midst. We learn that they have much to teach us, and we learn to listen.

How often we try to run from our greatest invitations.

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Recently I discovered this writing that I had jotted down during Lent:

Being human is to inhabit mystery, to live in weakness.

And in that weakness there is a beautiful dependence we often run from.

Because weakness is also painful – we cannot glamorize weakness, deprivation, dependence, despair.

We cannot gloss over the pain of God’s confounding silence,

the grief and confusion of loss,

the disappointment of withered hopes.

Weakness can be ugly, inconvenient.

Mystery is never comfortable.

But deep within, there is a voice:

Be obscured

Be prepared through the confounding silence of God.

The World Will Be Saved By…

I would like to make the case for beauty.

Here is my manifesto: Beauty inherently inspires us to live more beautifully. The truest things in the world are also the most beautiful. Beauty, truth, and goodness – these three are always inextricably linked together, or else each is incomplete.

The poet John O’Donohue speaks rightly that “an awful lot of urban planning, particularly in poor areas, has doubly impoverished the poor by the ugliness which surrounds them. And it’s understandable that it’s so difficult to reach and sustain gentleness there.” Unjust as it is, there is a reason nobody wants to live in certain areas of town. In fact, recent studies have shown that an increase in green space in cities statistically lowers crime. Continue reading

The Communion of Saints

A conversation on the church, with Ben Myers’ book The Apostles Creed.

It is astonishing that for a movement that utterly changed the world, Christianity has such humble origins. As Myers writes:

Jesus wrote no books…He was the author not of ideas but of a way of life. Everything Jesus believed to be important was entrusted to his small circle of followers. What he handed on to them was simply life. He showed them his own unique way of being alive – his unique way of living, loving, feasting, forgiving, teaching, and dying – and he invited them to live the same way.

The more I get a taste of the global church, the greater the mystery it is to me. How can it be that when I’m in a remote village of Tanzania, or a small town in Sweden, I can feel so at home in a church so outside of my culture and context? How is it that we embrace or shake hands with each other in genuine love as brothers and sisters in the Gospel? The faithful existence of the global church, in all its unity and disunity, is a miracle. Continue reading

Placemakers.

I have left my heart in so many places.

The grief of leaving behind a place you love, even for good reasons, is a complicated grief. In the midst of new beginnings there is the quiet reminder of loss. It can seem as if all the love, time, and effort you invested in a certain place and time, in a certain vision of your future, has become only a story you will tell, like a dream you’re afraid of forgetting. Besides the story, what really remains? Continue reading

A Letter to Myself

Note: I wrote this letter to myself in much earlier days of this blog, but never published it. I just came across it again today and felt it was time to share it with the world. Although it emerged in the midst of much personal wrestling and prayer, I hope it strikes a chord of resonance with you as well. 

Dear you –

The one who is tired,

the one who sits there staring out the bus window,

wondering if she’s the one who has it all wrong.

The one who recognizes in herself the same criticism

the same jumping to conclusions

the same line-in-the-sand mentality

that frustrates her in others

and wonders how we ever heal from it all. Continue reading

Best Books of 2018

“That’s what I love about reading: one tiny thing will interest you in a book, and that tiny thing will lead you to another book, and another bit there will lead you onto a third book. It’s geometrically progressive – all with no end in sight, and for no other reason than sheer enjoyment.”

― Mary Ann Shaffer, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

Happy 2019 everyone!

As the year comes to a close, I always enjoy looking back on all the amazing books I’ve had the privilege to read this year. I continue to be amazed at how much rich literature I can get through my local library – in fact, if I didn’t read a book I said I would read last year, it’s likely because I had to pay for it.

As always, here are my top books of 2018 (and yes, Guernsey made the list – barely): Continue reading

Merry Christmas from the Funkhousers!

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Merry Christmas, friends! And what a year it has been. It feels like so much has happened since our letter last year.

To give you the highlights:

  • This year felt like a big learning curve in our new and growing roles at work. We’re so grateful for these opportunities and are glad we “took the plunge” last year!
  • Ben continues his work with L’Arche and just applied for PSU’s Graduate Program in Social Work. We are praying he gets in and begins next fall!
  • Jenna traveled with Loom to Tanzania in April, her first time to Africa (it was beautiful and very wet!) She is excited to to return this February.
  • We both traveled around Scandinavia visiting family this June, and spent a few wonderful days back in Amsterdam (it was beautiful and very hot!).
  • Both of us are trying out new volunteer roles: occasional dinner chef at L’Arche for Jenna and crisis line worker for Ben
  • We moved a few miles down the road in October and have enjoyed sharing a place with friends (and their cat).
  • We spent most of the year car-free which was a fun experiment
  • After much prayer and counsel, we joined an Anglican church this month and are thankful for the opportunity for spiritual formation through the ancient liturgy and practices of the Church.

In all honesty, this has felt like a year of opposites in many ways. It has been a year of making many new friends and reconnecting with old ones, of really testing out what it means to live according to our values and how to walk the delicate road of adapting without compromising. We love the direction our lives are going and yet so much still feels uncertain. It seems fitting that we write these words during Advent, the period of waiting in the mystery.

More than anything, this year has been a reminder that as John Lennon said,  “life is what happens while we are making plans.” We continue to look ahead and hope for the future, but more than anything we’re learning that wherever God takes us, we bring ourselves along. We want to invest just as much into becoming whole, healthy, mature people as we invest in getting to the next phase of life, whatever that holds.

Thank you for being a part of this journey with us. It means more than you know!

We’d like to end with these marvelous words which have been such an encouragement to us during this season. May it bless you as well as we “trust in the slow work of God’ together.

Above all, trust in the slow work of God.
We are quite naturally impatient in everything
to reach the end without delay.
We should like to skip the intermediate stages.
We are impatient of being on the way to something
unknown, something new.
And yet it is the law of all progress
that it is made by passing through
some stages of instability—
and that it may take a very long time.

And so I think it is with you;
your ideas mature gradually—let them grow,
let them shape themselves, without undue haste.
Don’t try to force them on,
as though you could be today what time
(that is to say, grace and circumstances
acting on your own good will)
will make of you tomorrow.

Only God could say what this new spirit
gradually forming within you will be.
Give Our Lord the benefit of believing
that his hand is leading you,
and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself
in suspense and incomplete.

—Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

Words to End the Year

As the evenings get darker and the calendar flips to December, I’ve been thinking about the past year and all it has held for us. What words do I want to end the year with? What words do I want to hold on to into the new year?

This has been a year of many new beginnings and some endings, many moments of joy and some of grief, and in the midst of all of it, grace. Sometimes grace found me like a splash of cold water across the face, but sometimes in was the small shadow creeping up from behind, surprising me softly. Mostly I have found it in the quiet, glad moments that are hard to describe in any other way than a deep welling up of gratefulness.

What has been most surprising about this year is the way it has been exactly and yet nothing at all like I expected. I saw this as a year of growth and it has certainly been so. Yet the word I chose for this year was “beauty,” and this beauty has turned out to mostly come from places I wasn’t even looking for it. Continue reading

Monday in November

“The world
seems heavy,”
we say,
our eyes two unresolved
question marks,
a layer of replays
from the nightly news.
In reply I have
no aphorisms
no scapegoats,
no answers.

All I can say is-
Yesterday on the bus
A woman sat
wearing a pink scarf
embroidered with both
halves of a butterfly,
befriending a weary
mother and son.

Listen.

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