Annunciation, II

In her brave surrender, body forms. Flesh and bone knit together, fearfully and wonderfully, the perfect Sum of all humanity. Within her womb the cosmos and the cell are One. 

And she becomes the mother of the Church—for just so are we, strange mixtures of star and sinew, knit together across centuries into the Body of the living Christ. 

We are joined by water and blood into his own birth, passing through death and into his own life. And now we each raise our lives, dripping and screaming from their baptism, and pronounce them pathways to glory. 

Now we undergo this act of slow and hidden creation. Invisible threads are knotting corners of our hearts to the souls of long-gone years. It seems unthinkable that from these clusters of carbon and cell, growing in fits and starts and in seemingly opposite directions, will come a revelation of the Resurrection and the Life in full. 

In this dimly-lit surrender, the Body of our Lord still forms. 

Within the womb of centuries, the Cosmos and the cell are one.

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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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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

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