I Beg To Differ

Come in close with me for a moment? I’m in a gentle, whispering sort of mood and I have some thoughts to give and questions I would ask all you feelers and thinkers and lovers. My questions are the coffeehouse or fire pit variety, the kind that get asked when we can look through the steam or across the flames and find, above all things, the value-code writ into each other’s faces. 1. Do you think God knew we would interpret the gospel 7 billion different ways before sunrise on Sunday? (My sense [ read more... ]

What I’m Hungry For

Will you hear what I am hungry for? How I can eat moments like my first and last and only meal? Moments. Moments of stillness and quiet, with just enough length to take an extra breath, speak a gentle "I'm here, Abba" and be mindful that behind the air I inhale is another galaxy of meaning and mystery - it's heaven waiting in the wings for the sprinkling of God-children spread all over the earth to bring a piece of the celestial into earth-time. (Try it and see . . . With just one beautiful, [ read more... ]

Adoption: An EPIC Update

The 200-year-old wood floor is unyielding beneath my bent legs; I'm writing this one from my knees, neck and fingers arched low and right now I have the kind of body that makes big Spirit-noise. Listen . . . God has something in His sleeve and thread by thread He's pulling that sleeve back and the small amounts of His skin being revealed chokes me up and falls me down. Soon we're going to see the whole cosmic arm stretched before us and behind us and moving earth with giant sweeping motions to [ read more... ]

Roger And Our Dirty Skin

I would love to show you a photo of old Roger so you could see what I see: that he's just the most beautiful. His leather-like face is thickly etched with time-lines, his hair is unhygienic, lousy . . . his skin wears pockmarks and blackheads like some woman wear pearls and polka dots. He doesn't have any top teeth that I can see beyond his overgrown mustache and whew! if he doesn't smell like an unwashed decade. He wears baggy velour track pants, three jackets, scars across his heart and no [ read more... ]

12 Years and Why Are We Married Again?

There once was this man who bent himself over our married-feet and prophesied that thousands and thousands would gather around our married-love, but we didn't have much time to reflect on his seer-like vision because shorter then a month later our love shattered into a million little shard-sharp pieces. Oh. Well . . . we didn't see that coming. And our married-eyes still look back and marvel that we decided---in spite of ourselves and our choices and our circumstances---that neither of us was "going" [ read more... ]