Loving is Usually, March 10 2020

But loving is not usually romantic. It is usually real, often uncomfortable, frequently inconvenient, occasionally mortifying.

It means loving the people it is messy, unimpressive, or painful to love. The people who will not make me look better or realize my potential. And it means not using them.

Humble me. Please do it gently, but do it.

The House, February 25 2020

The house

in Crescent City sold.

Money from the fish's

mouth. Manna

for today. 

Febrifuge, Train from NYC to NJ, February 25 2020

No more
confidence in healing. In my own
talent to stay calm. I have worked
myself ill. Awake when every inch
needs rest, for thinking.
And have not remembered -
                          I am held. Every hair,
counted. Numbered and loved,
despite my brittle.

It is infectious, she said, as panic:  peace.

Only surrendered am I free.
Our bodies on the subway sway,
sweating under coats,
are rocking, looking down, mouths covered,
hooded, close. Barely brushing the sleeve,
immortal soul.

Meeting eyes in reflections, fluorescence.
Puddles in the corners,
urine, tar, and rain.
Leeching our fear and reverence. Father.
Unapproachable or so tender.

If we all were weeds,
growing green in the chinks,
we would be crushed. But we
would split the rock. 

Victory is Yours, December 27 2019

You are trustworthy. You do not make mistakes. Our times are in Your hands. You will care for us and provide for us, You will not leave us as orphans, You will come to us.
In whatever ways it is time for me to grow up, please grow me up. Please show me my sin, so that You and I can deal with it. Please forgive me my trespasses. Protect me from rash actions and words. Protect me from passivity and from aggression. Make me a woman of truth, grace, and action. Confront the lies in my mind. Cover over all wrongs with love.
How does a person feel safe again? How do I come to grips with reality, with how easily I hurt others? Who can counsel me? Help me not to run away. Help me not to be afraid. Satan has not won the victory. Victory is Yours, Jesus. 

To Jesus, on Self-sacrifice, December 22 2019

I cringe when I hear the call to love and worship God because He sacrificed His Son for me. The more we call You God's beloved, only begotten Son, and not GOD YOURSELF with a CHOICE and WILL and DETERMINATION TO GIVE YOURSELF, it sounds like something sadistic, that no sane, loving person would want. You want to kill your Son for me? No thanks. For goodness' sake, why this bloodthirstiness? Sounds like a psycho lover threatening to do harm if you don't love him back. Or as absurd as someone saying, "I'll murder my son and then you can use his tickets to Europe - aren't you going to thank me?"
Of course this isn't our position in the situation at all, but how does it make sense to outsiders? If there's no understanding of the deep divide of sin, the impossibility of human reparation, the SELF sacrifice of God, it sounds so twisted.
Please confirm, cement, the TRUTH spoken today. 

Naming Sin, Prayer for Kanye, Communion of Saints, December 16 2019

Please keep helping us all to make room. I fall short in every way, as I read Matthew 5. I want to know You and know Your heart so intimately, and let Your difficult and "impossible" words form me and chafe me and feed me. I am absolutely Yours, and if I must become odd, so be it.
Living above reproach used to seem possible. I guess I figured, "against such things there is no law". That loving You and doing good would ultimately win people over. But these days, if you name sin like John, you may lose your head. You may be labelled a hater, intolerant, judgmental, proud, ignorant, repressive! And I don't see a way out of all that.

Listened to a few Kanye songs today. What surprised me most - they weren't that amazing. I mean, they were refreshing, coming from him, but I've heard better rap. Please keep him as the apple of Your eye. Bless and protect him, humble him, encourage him, give him joy, give him purpose and insight. Help him to be obedient and faithful. Help him to hold himself before Your Word, and to keep in fellowship.

Thank You that even in my very off, very gray days, I get the privilege of union with You and communion with Your saints. 

Tied to Your Apron Strings, December 15 2019

I want to be like George MacDonald's characters, able to obey and trust the right always. Like Betsy ten Boom.
But I don't need any more idols or heroes, I need You.

Please guide these next few days. None of this matters without love.
And please, help me hear and obey Your Word, Your Spirit, and allow moods to swing but truth to remain constant. I can't let the birds nest in my hair. Be they bitterness, doubt, gossip, insecurities, lust, pride. Catch 'em all. And set me in a place of real safety, and real work and engagement (not passivity), and real blessing. Let me bless others abundantly, and point them toward You.
Please keep me humble and tied to Your apron strings.