Real community is only available to those who are willing to own their weakness.
– Mike Woodruff, The Friday Update
Is weakness The Thing?
The thing I search for—subconsciously, maybe—in a church community? People who seem weak and okay with it, who embrace it, even let others help them? (How am I supposed to get a feel for that from a Sunday service?)
The thing that, above other qualities, helps me connect with a new friend?
The thing that—when admitted and paired with desperate pleas for help—endears us to God? Isn’t that what the Lord’s Prayer is about? Give us this day our daily bread [for we cannot provide for ourselves]; Forgive us our sins [for we cannot save ourselves]; Lead us not into temptation [for we so often lead ourselves straight into the fire]?
The thing that—more than anything else—is looked down upon in the West? But what if it’s the only antidote to self-sufficiency’s poison? And what if it’s the very thing that could save our civilization from downfall?
WINTER IN KENTUCKY
GOD IS GOOD AND NOT ALWAYS NICE
I used to believe that God is good, meaning that he gives me what I want. Maybe not right away, of course — I was taught that at a young age — but certainly in time, he will give me what I want. I suppose really, I thought God was nice.
I used to think that pain and suffering must be a result of sin, somehow. I wouldn’t have verbally affirmed that notion, but somewhere deep in my heart, I believed it.
I was, and surely in some ways still am, an “American Christian.” God bless America, and if he doesn’t, well, then I guess we did something wrong.
My dad died when I was a teenager. Death didn’t fit into my faith framework, especially since my dad was a godly man. My family prayed for healing, and we believed he would live, but God didn’t give us what we wanted.
Somehow, I had missed all the parts in the Bible where people — even righteous people — endured great pain and loss. Job, Abraham, Moses, David, Esther, Paul, and, oh yeah, Jesus!
Suddenly, I had to wrestle with God, or straight-up dump him. I chose the former, which can only be explained supernaturally. It took several years to get answers. Heck, it took several years before I found the right questions to ask! But in my pursuit, and through pain, God began to reveal more of himself to me.
I still believe that God is good, but I’ve learned that goodness is not the same thing as niceness. I’m glad I don’t believe in a nice god anymore; I believe in a good one.
Where he smokes a pipe and enjoys Springtime
The morning air: crisp and refreshing, a welcome sign that Spring was finally descending. He found himself lingering, entranced, though he had intended to step outside for only a moment before returning to the couch and an open-faced book, which threatened to flip a few pages and lose its place. But he couldn’t leave; he stood mesmerized, a statue frozen by the full warmth of the morning sun.
Finally, he melted back to consciousness and with the first decision of the day, brought out his smoking pipe. As a puff of smoke escaped his mouth, he settled in, taking in his surroundings with the utmost attentiveness. He noticed the little leaves of his wife’s mint plant, green in shadow but transparent-yellow where the sun met the tops of the curling blades. He noticed the droplets of water that refused to fall from the underside of the porch railing: evidence of last night’s downpour. He heard the distant calls of jays, the nearby shouts of blackbirds, and the shrill songs of sparrows. He felt the gentle rustle of the breeze as it touched his skin, and caught a waft of someone’s nearby breakfast.
As he took in the beauty around him, he thought no more of the stories others had written, where he was a mere onlooker. Instead, he dreamed of his own story, the one he hadn’t written yet. His mind was filled with awe as he considered the scurrying squirrels and the budding trees, the deepening blues of the sky and the disappearing shadows beneath the trees. He couldn’t help but recreate the world he perceived, and so he pulled out pen and paper and wrote: “The morning air: crisp and refreshing, a welcome sign that Spring was finally descending.”
Light & Shadow
I love morning light; how it filters through the window, touching faux bamboo leaves, somehow adding life where there was none, bringing depth to the slightly crooked lampshade. I can’t say I understand it, but I feel something when I gaze at the light and shadow. Funny how a little thing like sunlight…a touch of God perhaps…can make an otherwise insignificant corner of the room captivating.
Sheba the Lion-Dog
Sheba greeted me joyfully, golden clumps of matted fur tousling as she lumbered toward me. It struck me then how much like a lion she looked, though she couldn’t hide her goofy and lovable doggish charm. I reached out my hand for a nuzzle as I jogged down the farm road, and she danced beside me to match my pace, longing for a good scratch behind the ear. She and I ran together for a short way before she stopped to return to her guard-post. I knew she’d be waiting for me when I returned, though, and that brought me a little bit of joy.
The view from my kitchen table
Mr. Miyagi
We named him Mr. Miyagi because he taught us how to fish. The little guy was a master; a true sensei! He would soar, then dive, then splash, and up he would come with his prize, every time.
For some reason, his method never worked for us.
Kentucky Sunrise
Oh Kentucky sunrise,
What a pleasant surprise.
I thought Texas was good
Til I met you.
I don’t need to search the Earth to find what I’m looking for.
Simply Put Stories 