Grace Traces

Isn't it funny, how day by day nothing changes; but when you look back everything is different?   C.S. Lewis

There is such a simple and sacred truth to what Lewis is saying above.  This morning, I got up and it was raining...like it has been the last several days as we reach "build-an-ark" levels of saturation.  I had my cereal and coffee, like every morning.  I talked with my wife about our plans for the day, nothing unusual there.  But, inside us, like a seed that slowly transforms and transitions, there is something at work.  As the poet says, "To trust in the slow work of the Spirit" day-by-day is the invitation.
Part of the ways we can train our brain, soul, heart, and our lives to pay attention to those millimeter movements of our lives.  We do this through silent meditation, through reading poetry (which has be done slowly letting the words sit/simmer), through listening to music, through taking walks outside disconnected from our phones, through breathi…

This week, my son passed the mile marker from being a middle schooler to the cusp of high school in a few months.  The day of his 8th grade graduation was moment of reflection for all of us.  First, while it certainly did not seem that way when we walked him for hours every night before he fell asleep as a baby, time really does move fast, in the blink of an eye.  My son is now taller than me.  My son is certainly smarter than me because his math homework looks like random numbers all hanging out together.  As we sat at the restaurant after the ceremony, we talked about highlights of middle school...which were many.  Some of the regrets.  I saw someone who is not only transitioning to a different location, but also a different stage in life.  So often we lump life together in stages, like a linear time line.  We define and distinguish childhood/school years from marriage from children from middle age from retirement.  And while those are certainly important markers, there are million…

“The world cannot be discovered by a journey of miles, no matter how long, but only by a spiritual journey, a journey of one inch, very arduous and humbling and joyful, by which we arrive at the ground at our feet, and learn to be at home.” – Wendell Berry –

I am a collector of quotes.

I love the way words, when arranged in certain ways, can stick and stay with you like a green piece of spinach in your teeth.

I love the way wisdom doesn't need pages and pages to indoctrinate or instruct or influence you.  Just a few words that cause your mind to stop, your heart to strangely warm, and your soul to shout, "Yes!"

I love the way such sentences can roam around your mind and find ways to escape across your lips in certain situations.

The world cannot be discovered by a journey of miles...Berry says.  So often we think we have to go somewhere, rather than learn to be content here.  We dream of exotic locations or vacations, thinking that if we just leave the stress and strain…

Being a prayer...rather than seeing prayer as something we do...can seems strange to many of us.  After all, we tend to compartmentalize and categorize prayer.  Prayer is a running monologue with God.  Prayer can be listening or singing music.  Prayer can be walking in creation.  Prayer is sitting in silence.  All of these are true.  But just as a doorway is not the whole house, neither are any of the above.  They are the beginning.  Paul in First Thessalonians 5:17 says we are to, "Pray without ceasing."  That might mean mumble and muttering constantly, continually.  It might even mean a returning, running, reoccurring spirit that we step into.  Or, as I hear this invitation, that we would be the prayer.

But I think part of prayer, the part that frustrates so many and confuses all the rest of us, is that we are not in control.  Prayer too often treats God like a vending machine, trying to get what I want.  Or like a teenage pleading to her parents to let her do something. …

Last Friday, we heard once again of another shooting at a school.  The narrative so familiar, the words said in response predictable as a record stuck on repeat.  We are caught up in a culture of violence.  We anger stokes the fire of more anger.  We constantly wound ourselves and others.  In many ways, we have not named and claimed that part of the violence begins within ourselves.  Our running internal commentary and critic shouts at us both about our own short comings while at the same time telling us that, "Those people are the problem."  Violence seems to be woven inside us - just think back to the last time you tried on a shirt and the voice said sarcastically, "Don't you look great."  Or think about your reaction and response to someone who cuts in-front of you in traffic.  Why exactly are we so mad about that?  It is because we swim in the sea of violence that starts internally and is expressed and becomes fanned to flames externally by those around us…

Light one candle for love...one bright candle for love...Christ brings love to everyone, Christ comes, he comes. (Advent hymn)
Summer is beginning to creep and crawl finding ways to settle into Florida for the coming months.  Summer sun is starting to shine down, warming our skins. Humidity has taken up residence in the places and spaces where our seasonal friends, who wisely fled back north now, have left in our wake. Clouds come rolling in late every afternoon, blocking for a few moments the heat of the sun. Rain starts to fall, splashing on hot concrete and sometimes causing steam to rise. The weather report sounds like a record needle stuck. Hot...muggy today...chance of rain in the afternoon. Same tomorrow...and the tomorrow after that...and the month after that.
So, I dream of December when the humidity breaks on one crisp morning and the air temperature drops to 60 degrees and humidity moves away from 90 percent. I dream of a candle lit that dances with delight proclaiming God …

The words of this hymn are a beautiful prayer...because if ever we needed help accepting each other...it might be today.  It is wonderful to talk about loving your neighbor, until you find out that your neighbor votes a different way or goes to that church or does something that is particularly difficult to accept. 

Part of the reason why we struggle to accept others, is we don't accept ourselves.  Paul Tillich in the 1950 talked about the struggle to accept that we are accepted.  Then, we go to church, which tells us that we should do this, volunteer for that, and give this much (usually not enough).  So much of life declares that we are not enough, we need to do more.  But fortunately for us, the person saying this can sell us this amazing wonderful product that will clearly solve all our problems.  I remember as a child seeing endlessly the commercial for the knife that would chop celery, cut through a tin can, and then cut a tomato.  First, who exactly does that?!?  Who think…

There are some lines of this hymn that stir my soul and teach me truths about my life. 

When we sing out about, "Tune my heart to sing thy praises," that feels to me like one of the deepest prayers for my life I could pray.  I want not just the words of my mouth or the countless thoughts to be caught up in proclaiming and praising God, but also my heart - that which is at the center and core of who I am.  Yet, the heart is valuable real estate.  Certainly my family has a claim on my heart and has left a deep/abiding impression.  The people of God with whom I serve have impacted/imprinted their presence and love on my heart.  Those who struggle and suffer.  Those whose friendship means more than words could ever express.  The question becomes is our heart just a parcel that gets divided OR is our heart so inexhaustible and ever expansive that actually the more people we love, the larger our heart grows?  (By the way, this is the central question of the Dr. Suess book, How th…