Buried Hopes

Pity weeps, but walks away. Compassion comes to help and stay. - Art Beals — Brian D. McLaren (@brianmclaren) April 28, 2014 I rolled this quote around in my head this morning, as I drove to work and contemplated my current aversion to pity. I don't always love my commute, but there are times when it is the most sacred time of my day, forty-five full minutes in which I am unable to distract myself with my phone or meaningless tasks. I sit, and I think. And if I am smart, I let Jesus into my thoughts, allowing him to think with me. I had my first meeting with an infertility counselor last night, and I talked through my issue with a particular person, how I can't handle being around them because I feel as though they pity me. And I do not want to be pitied. I can handle most reactions toward us these days, but pity is not one of them. Pity makes me want to hide in a closet and never come out. But that doesn't mean I don't want people to care. It is painful when I feel as ...

Today, I am over at Making-Space , posting my thoughts about the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Our church is going through through The Story over the next 31 weeks, and Tom has been working hard to launch this blog to accompany it. I'm excited about contributing to it over the upcoming months. *** In Chapter 1 of The Story, we learn of Adam and Eve, created and placed in the garden of Eden. They are beloved by God, walking in partnership with each other and with him. And they are free to eat of any fruit in this garden, except for the tree of knowledge of good and evil. It’s hard to understand why eating fruit was such a big deal. Why was this certain tree off limits? It was just a piece of fruit, and it seems unnecessary for God to restrict them from eating of it. But eating a particular fruit wasn’t the issue, it was what Adam and Eve wanted from it. This tree symbolized the sin which plagues humanity: the knowledge of good and evil. Adam and Eve wanted to see like Go...

When we awoke you were not to be You never swam in our blue sea Now you’ve gone to different oceans Than the one we floated our hopes in When we lost our baby, I did not know how to grieve. So I didn't. I treated it like a failed cycle and put my hand to the plow, pulling my heart and body toward the next thing. We will get pregnant again, I told myself. That will make it all better. Lets pretend this never happened. You were a breaking in the clouds We barely said these things aloud There was a question you were the answer We heard music you were the dancer But in the in-between time, waiting for my body to recover so we could begin treatment again, it eventually became too much to ignore that we had a child. Two children, I guess, though my mind can't possibly comprehend the existence of that other one, the empty sac that never grew beyond four or five weeks. But that beautiful miracle on the ultrasound scream, the sound of the doctor exclaiming "There's a baby with ...

  [caption id="attachment_1536" align="aligncenter" width="300"] Photo Credit: Lawrence OP via Compfight cc [/caption] “Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter, ‘He is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.’” Trembling and bewildered, the women went out and fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid. Mark 16:6-8 For the past few years, this has been my favorite Easter text. I love the unsettling way that the book of Mark ends. Most bibles include alternate endings, because from the beginning, people were unsettled by it. Why end a gospel with a group of people filled with trembling, bewilderment and fear? We need to end this with Jesus, right? With signs and wonders and rejoicing? The other three gospels help to satisfy us in this (thoug...

[caption id="attachment_1526" align="aligncenter" width="276"] Photo Credit: TheRevSteve via Compfight cc [/caption] As soon as it was morning, the chief priests held a consultation with the elders and scribes and the whole council. They bound Jesus, led him away, and handed him over to Pilate.  Pilate asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” He answered him, “You say so.”  Then the chief priests accused him of many things.  Pilate asked him again, “Have you no answer? See how many charges they bring against you.”  But Jesus made no further reply, so that Pilate was amazed. Mark 15:1-5 Against the violence of the empire, Jesus stood quietly, embodying nonviolence and humility. He responded vaguely to questions of his identity and silently to the accusations of wrongdoing. If there was ever a time for violence, this was it. Ever a time for pride or boasting, this was it. But instead, Jesus responds with silence. He willingly bears the shame and humilit...

On this Maundy Thursday, I am reposting from earlier this year , after we found out we had lost our baby . On this day, may we remember that we are invited into  the garden with Jesus. Here, in this dark and lonely place, he welcomes us into his own grief and willingly shares in ours. ********* [caption id="attachment_953" align="aligncenter" width="614"] Photo Credit: Lawrence OP via Compfight cc [/caption] We live in a finite world where everything is dying, shedding its strength. This is hard to accept, and all our lives we look for exceptions to it. We look for something strong, undying, infinite. Religions tells us that something is God. Great, we say, we'll attach ourselves to this strong God. Then this God comes along and says, "Even I suffer. Even I participate in the finiteness of this world." Thus Clare and Francis' image of God was not an "alimighty" and strong God, but in fact a poor vulnerable, and humble one li...

To follow Jesus means to accept the cross, to walk with him against imperial violence and religious collaboration, and to pass through death and resurrection. ~ The Last Week , Borg and Crossan I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death, if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead. ~ Philippians 3:10-11 For followers of Jesus, we are called to participate in the resurrection as much as we are called to celebrate it. It's not just a historical event for us, a day we celebrate once a year. It is the reality in which we live. Resurrection inhabits every moment of every day. New life is always emerging from our chaos. But new life requires death. Rising with him comes only from suffering and dying with him. Yes, Jesus died for me. Yes, Jesus rose for me. And yes, he died and rose for you, too. But he didn't do it so we would talk about it one day a year. He did it so we could  participate  ...

There are questions that wait in the shadows doubts that lurk until we shut the lights off and try to sleep The kind of despair that forms its own tape over our mouths when we try to pray The Question trembles in our chest fights its way out of our throats and sticks in the air vapor-like warm breath meeting cold wind God, where are you? The Liturgists For several years, my friend Kari blogged regularly about things that were saving her life , and reading these posts made this is one of my favorite phrases. It has helped me to look for redemption in the midst of ordinary or sad or terrible moments. Last night, Tom found me collapsed in our closet, crying. (Yes, Riley was right next to me, assuring me that hanging one's head in a closet is quite understandable in the midst of grief). This morning, I woke up feeling like I had been hit by a truck. My body and soul felt heavy, achy and detached from the world. My cloud of depression was thick, and I didn't think I would be able t...