Roots: A Communal Journal

As I prepare to spend a week in my homeland – my formerly and currently colonized, beautifully diverse, and unfortunately battered-by-violence homeland – I reflect on my own yearlong personal and professional journey learning about place, power and people. I had the privilege of visiting several U.S. cities to learn about just, equitable places that dignify all peoples. It was a journey that revealed the pain of racialized oppression, highlighted the stark reality of systemic injustices and challenged everything I knew about how our country functioned, but ultimately, it celebrated the beauty of humanity that found joy in its fight for justice and liberation. The Lakota people at Standing Rock in North Dakota powerfully demonstrated the centrality of place. Even though they were systemically removed from their ancestral lands, and have since had access to their resources slowly stripped away, they continue to honor their past and present homelands as sacred. They ...

We breathe in birth at death gasps which we cannot recall and never could have intended That others witness, cherish, memorialize And just like those breaths God is with us our first and our last remembered and unremembered our Ebeneezer No less his, and no less ours He is the Word Who made the word That made the World And we, who are born of breath Walk as though sustained by it Sit as if condemned by it Lay as now robbed of it Scattered as a chaff in the wind From dust of dust to flesh and bone His breath resurrects and invites welcoming life into the family rooms of our hearts of stone

There aren’t enough hours In the day For me to live my life In every way I always dreamed of living I want to write I want to paint I want to read I want to know Every word in every book I want to love I want to befriend Too many people Are we all just dying? Is that all there is to life, dying? Are our bodies already betraying us? Are we dying of cancer Or ALS Or AIDS Is an aneurysm on the horizon? How can I live Knowing that I’m dying How can I find purpose Knowing my time is ticking? How can god be good When he doesn’t give his children Enough time to choose In a world of too many choices Of too much noise I don’t want us all to be dying -birch --- Don't worry y'all, I'm going to therapy. 

Or consider that tree  In the dead of winter See how bare-bone it is? How affected and exposed it is?  How sturdy and mortified it is? Every year, you know  New life Fresh beginnings a creation, a refuge planted by streams of living water  Sparks along the limbs Every year, you know  Old death a sorrowful bow braced by wind and storm roots creaking Stripping the body clean Every year, again and again  At nature's mercy secure, yet defenseless sheltering death and life  Together  At once The tree bears it all Do you need me to tell you?  God is like this tree naked, unashamed, other, known mercifully at our mercy invaluable, yet commodified incomparable, yet ignored struck down, but not destroyed bearing fruit in and out of season   Teeming with Life everlasting God is like this tree And we cannot imagine it without him

Review:  Stanley Hauerwas The Character of Virtue: Letters to a Godson Eerdmans Publishing Co. (2018) ________________ Note: I plan to publish a monthly book review here on Roots. Each review will focus on a book I'm reading as a part of my devotions and studies. My hope is that these reviews will weave their way into conversations already happening here, spark some new ones, and maybe even point someone to a quality read.   -- On September 17, 2001, TIME magazine named Stanley Hauerwas "America's Best Theologian" . The irony of the award was likely lost to most. Hauerwas had spent his career calling the church away from the center of national attention and back to the margins. And in the shadow of 9/11, Hauerwas' lively and outspoken pacifism coupled awkwardly with the American thirst for vengeance.  Perhaps TIME hoped to highlight Americana ideals and virtues, but even then, the virtues Hauerwas championed had very little to do with America and e...

I've had a lot of conversations recently with friends and coworkers in a similar stage of life - many of us are a few years into our careers, have enjoyed the work we've done so far, and thankfully, have found purpose in it. Many of us have been asked by coworkers, bosses, and parents about what's next. They ask: How will this be a stepping stone toward your next thing? What are you doing to take the next step in your career? How do you want to be known ? How are you putting yourself out there to be seen and heard? Those are hard questions to answer. But they're even harder because for some, it brings to light a tension in within ourselves and in culture that's hard to navigate. For many of us, we grew up learning that humility meant that you sought not to recognize your own achievements, but to celebrate the success of a community. We were reminded to put others above self - that you always seek to recognize the contributions of others over your own. We wer...

Or consider that mason  jar Empty, unsealed, vacant Filled with nothing Now consider That space between the Cherubim That void over which the Spirit ponders The silence of Job's companions That depth into which the Angels long to look That still, small Voice whispering to the weary prophet That he (only faintly, finally) hears The rejected and forsaken Cornerstone is in our midst rebuilt as the curtainless temple Tabernacling among us Not as one in the room But the room itself Not as a wise teacher But the lesson itself Not as a life-long companion But life itself Not as the largest stone Stuffed into that mason jar Covered in sand and metaphorical misunderstanding God is among us Emptied for us Making peace with us Filling us With a fire we dare not touch A restlessness we cannot settle And a longing we feel and fear Distant, yet demanding all our attention Like the absent mother bird

I wished the words of prayer would come Full and resounding Bursting with the confetti Of a faith of celebration A triumphant declaration A reverent adoration Something Anything But tonight, Despite the stuttering syllables Tip-toeing on my tongue All that emerged Was the smallest mumble— “ Yes . Please God, Yes .”

God saves us, after all if he does anything at all By the most peculiar of means water and oil, wine and bread words in the dark, silence, a kiss a Kingdom Fathers and mothers and brothers and sisters cynics and saints murderers and dreamers God saves us, together God saves us, after all if "saves" is what we call it By no means whatsoever at the cost of everything from our delusions of heaven for the unfamiliar and unknown This stranger, this street, this corner clutching a hand-scribbled sign God saves us, unexpectedly God saves us, after all if we are saved at all By any means necessary by death, resurrection, rebirth Plenty and need, height and depth beauty and ashes, hope and doubt On servant's knee at the edge of the basin cheek turned God saves us, upside down God saves us, after all