I am not enough
in my cycling mind.
I, in my revolving door of
understanding my surroundings.
I am in. I am out.
I am frugal. I am lavish.
I am basic. I am stifling.
I am so much, so many,
but I am missing parts.
I am not enough.
I am missing my Enough.
The part that makes complex
smooth and filling and satiating.
I do not find Enough in my analysis,
my misperceptions,
my cock-eyed conceptions,
my dandy sensibilities,
Or my Watching too closely of my world.
I do not find Enough, so heavy and matter-ing
like the sea, easily. Not quickly.
Not in carousel rides
or roller coaster thrills–so free-ing.
No. Not in writing. Nor reading. Nor anything I seek. And though I do not know exactly
where Enough dwells. I believe
I start to find Enough in my ears. Simply there at the sides of me.
In the listening to waves, breaths, bee buzzes,
and sometimes somebody’s distant guitar picking.
Oh burrow into my ears, Enough.
There You Are
I was reminded today, via an itunes U podcast featuring Brett McCracken and his colleagues at Biola University, of something I heard many years ago.
At the end of the program, Wheaton College professor Jerry Root is quoted saying, “There are two kinds of people in the world. Here I am people and There you are people. My life is an effort to be more and more of a There you are person.” I know Jerry says this because I heard it myself sometime in the midst of my Wheaton College career. I am just as challenged today as I was 7-10 years ago.
Oh, how I want to walk into a room and say, “There you are!” more loudly than I could ever say, “Here I am.” I, too, want in humility to let my coolness dissolve in the presence of others. Let me be unmasked, uncovered, unknown to myself. Let my mind stop calculating my perceived presence, my situation, and my expectations of adoration or even simple reception.
Instead, let my be clear headed, sweet heart-ed, and genuinely busied with making someone else feel like they are the only person in the room–the most important person I speak with today.
Songs from the Heart
This is the song on my heart today. There is history not only in the words to this song, but in my conversion with this song.
Why Consider Heaven: Sunday Sermon
Each Sunday, when I hear C. John Steer’s British accent inviting me to stand and join with the church in praise of our Great God, I rise with a strong sense of purpose. After a good nine months in his Sunday services, I was beginning to hang my sermon notes at my desk each week. I’d like to share some now.
This week he began a series on heaven and hell, an intimidating subject to say the least. Today’s sermon was a preparation for more. It was really quite genteel ending with a great “Heaven is ahead–hurrah!”
I think one of my favorite quotes from today was “we don’t think about heaven so much because we are too preoccupied with earth.” How ironic that when I’m just beginning Case’s book on God in the everyday, that I be challenged to think of the super spiritual place of heaven?
Inconvenient Truth
This is an excerpt I jotted down last month while reading “Jesus Freak” by Sara Miles. I pulled it today from the stack of 3 by 5 cards on my writing desk and I shook my head. This theme just keeps chasing me around.
I spent the last two days listening to heavy “be aware of the times” teaching at a large Women’s Conference. What did I come away with? “God Is Here” by Steve Case, a modern look at Brother Lawrence’s “The Practice of the Presence of God” (a book I read almost exactly 10 years ago). I skipped the books about God in the midst of your pain and how to study the book of Daniel and the truth about sex, and my eyes and my heart went straight to a plain covered, humble book about God at Starbucks. I guess that’s where I’m at…still.
God is in the every day, the here, the now, the computer time, the morning, the evening, the snacks, the walks, the runs, the cries, the laughs, the pie-making, the dish-washing. But that is not the inconvenient part–that I might run right into God as I turn the corner into my kitchen. No, the inconvenient part is that my physical mindedness gets in the way of accepting and judging according to the Spirit. The inconvenient part is that I see the coffee cup and I think about the coffee cup.
Today, when I consider the times, the business of life and hurts therein, when I analyze them and judge them (Luke 12:56-57), I will consider them in terms of how much I engage with God in the common.
*As an aside, I notice the misspelling on the note card. Sometimes I get anxious to write things down before I forget them, resulting in misspelling.
Called Up
I use this phrase at school to tell students they are wanted in the office. I say, “Hey, guess what?! You have been called up, man!” Despite the concern that often rises in their eyes, it does usually help to lighten the mood.
Today, I was called up. Thankfully, not to the principal’s office, but to a Women’s Conference. I was on the waiting list, but I’m not anymore! I’m concerned. What will I find?
The conference is at my local church in town here (written like a true Minnesotan) and I’m attending with my sister Friday and Saturday. Wish me something good.
Let The Great World Spin
Corrigan told me once that Christ was quite easy to understand. He went where He was supposed to go. He stayed where He was needed. He took little or nothing along, a pair of sandals, a bit of a shirt, a few odds and ends to stave off the loneliness. He never rejected the world. If He had rejected it, He would have been rejecting mystery. And if He rejected mystery, He would have been rejecting faith.
Let The Great World Spin
Colum McCann
(c) 2009
I’m currently giving McCann and his fictionalized Dublin to New York brothers’ tale space to teach me something I have yet to discover. How could I know what I need to learn anyway? The world is a mystery of faith.
Dear sweet love…
Dear sweet love,
I want to say thank you
with all my throbbing,
heart that bears too much
and beats too hard
and pumps out more
blood than I have
for filling my limbs with
your own blood
and for bearing the throbbing
with super strength
and for tearing out dry and scornful
demons
that ever thorn-cling to my sides.
Engaging in Mystery
As Good Friday draws to an end, I am reminded that so much of life is a mystery. I am surrounded by mystery. For many years, my biggest mystery was “why.” Now that I am older, my mysteries are “what” and “who.”
In a desert somewhere, after already making some life changing decisions, Jacob went out and wrestled with a tangible, body-full shadow. An angel. A mystery. He dropped to his knees and engaged. He reached out his hands and dove in. He wasn’t looking for a why. He was looking for what and who. And after he experienced, he changed.
If Jacob, in the midst of his prosperity, generosity, worry, tenacity, on-track and busy life, must stop to wrangle and contend with who and what God is, how much more must I?
Genesis Chapter 32 בְּרֵאשִׁית
City Heart
My heart is a big city–
people running everywhere
getting from to to fro,
taking care of business,
moving up and moving down
ladders and making art
on sidewalks and park benches
and in museum halls
that no one visits, expect for
people who don’t live in my
city heart.

