Tuesday, November 25, 2014


“They were terrified.”

“Be not afraid, it is I.”


“Save me, Lord”

“Immediately, Jesus reached”

“Why did you doubt?”

We often fail to recognize Christ in fear and darkness, surrounded as we are by the chaos of a storm. His appearance, or our realization of his Eternal Presence, frightens us in the distance because we perceive him to be far away. We squint through the gray skies and pounding rain at the shadowy figure in the distance. The storm distorts our perception.

He draws near to us, in spite of our blurred vision, his first words being words of comfort.

He does not say, “Be not afraid, I can calm the storm,” but “Be not afraid, it is I.”

He alone is enough.

Are we calm enough to perceive him? Are we bold enough to find him in the gray skies, pounding rain and chaos? Are we strong enough to echo the words of Peter, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you”?


It is the same response, the same invitation given to us. He does not hesitate; he longs for his children to do the impossible, the unimaginable, the great. But we must first ask this of him.

Again, “come.”

Come to me in the unlikeliest of circumstances.

Come, see what I can do in your life.

Come, love my people.

Come, walk on water.

How long does it take us to turn our gaze away? Five minutes? A day? A month? We are more fickle than our brother Peter, who we often chide for his fear. Our boldness, “command me,” begins to drown so quickly. We cannot live up to the weight of Christ's response. We cannot imagine our own greatness. We fail to trust. We look away. The waves lap up around our ankles, already our clothes are splashed. The boat we so boldly stepped out of is now so far away. We are drowning.

“Save me, Lord!” we cry out with Peter.

A hand.


The soft words: oh little one “why did you doubt?”

Why did we doubt?

The invitation remains: 


Matthew 14:25-31

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

false reflections

We walk amidst the shadows and call them life. We’re so accustomed now to the dimness that light is too abrasive. It burns rather than warms, offends rather than illuminating. So we stumble around in the fog, thinking we are dancing. It’s like looking in the mirror and confusing the reflection with the person. Only now, we've even made the reflection unclear. The mirror has a layer of steam, blurring the image. And many of our backs are turned. And sometimes, even the light is off. Many things prevent us from truly seeing ourselves, from knowing who we are, from where we’ve come, and to what we are going. But we’ve convinced ourselves that we are comfortable. “Comfortable” is our best friend. It doesn’t demand much of us, doesn't pry, doesn’t ask us to change. It leaves us quite alone, minds its own business. Comfortable—a makeshift refuge amidst the vast discomfort of the world we face each day. Comfortable—the often elusive goal of our lives. Comfortable—the fog on the mirror. Comfortable is not evil. I’m not suggesting a life of suffering and misery as a suitable alternative. We’ve just limited ourselves to something far below us, something that isn’t our true end, though many of us have come to think so. We’ve deluded ourselves into thinking that comfort is the epitome of life. The thing that will bring us joy.

Why is comfortable not enough? Because it’s not what we were made for. We were made for greatness, for excellence, even amidst the discomfort of our world. We were never made to settle, just as we were never made for the fog, or the darkness, or the failure. What will wipe away the steam, turn us around, flip on the light, allow us to face ourselves? Love. Uncomfortable love. Love that demands all of who we are. Love that evaporates our egoism. Love that hurts. Love that is real. Love that pushes us out of ourselves and into the lives and well-being of others. Love that we have to practice, and will fail at, again and again. Love that doesn't judge. Love that is hard. 

But love that is worth it. Love that reminds us who we are and why we’re here. Love that takes us from the shadows and actually calls us to dance. Love that breaks through the fog. Love that never diminishes. Love that is the true light. Love that is our true reflection.

Monday, April 7, 2014


We have an unquenchable thirst for love. Oftentimes, it remains buried in cavernous places we rather not acknowledge. Then certain moments arise, or people step into your day, or conversations are had, or life is simply lived, and you realize how deep that longing is: the longing for love. It seeps in when the last dregs of light filter into the room. Your heart aches at another day ending. Or the yearning awakens after seeing a movie or reading a book about another place and time. Or while a friend reads poetry, and line by line you fall deeper into the human soul. Or a statement is made and you recognize yourself in the eyes of another.

These moments are always unexpected. They peek shyly like stolen secrets; dance slyly like whispers in the wind. We are caught wholly unprepared for the ache they leave within our soul that awakes ravenous, longing to be satisfied. They leave their residue on a heart now burning, fainting, panting. You want to lie on the ground with your arms outstretched looking up at the sky, close your eyes and melt into the feeling. Breathe it in. Gulp it down. Grasp it.

But nothing fully satisfies.

We are comfortable and restless. The in-between leaves us torn, for these glimpses of love do not satiate the soul. In the meantime, we drink poetry; we inhale nature; we disappear in art; we laugh. We distract ourselves with beauty and chase after truth. Or we wait for the unexpected moments with no name. It is on these glimpses of love that we build our hope. They sustain us as we bustle around this waiting room, awaiting the day when we are ravished by Eternal Love–sighing for that moment in exasperation and contentment.

Monday, February 17, 2014


breathe in

blue sky
crisp air
bright sun
jagged rocks
frosty trees

held breath
too long

of sacred alcoves

breathe all in

the rhythm
of routine

the radiance
of faces

the elegance
of habits

the whispers
in trees

they enter
two by two
somber and majestic
like queens

try not
to stare
though they
all reason

how is it
that in black
they radiate

in black
do they scream

give peace

are they not
to the world

is not
for mourning

heart aches
as it reawakens
for you
oh simple life

too clear
a mirror
of paradise

held up
against me
reveals me
to myself

bearing traces
of the world

within you
oh cloister
i am but
a pauper

i drop
to my knees
amidst your

take me to
where you sing
with choirs
of angels

let me dance
in your hay
cattle lulling

let me bow
and rise
in sacred time

fill my
inhaling lungs
with sweetness

stock my shelf
with memories

for the world

Friday, January 31, 2014

We Have Made Mistakes

Dear friend,

Let us not lose hope, though the way is filled with darkness. Know these troubles will not last long. Hope will be what marks us, let it be what marks us, setting us apart from the desolate world. Hope can exist in spite of sorrow.

You will learn to forgive, though it does not seem like it now. And you will learn you are worthy of love, despite what the actions of others have told you. Trouble is only part of the road. It is not your destination. When the light of the sun fails to seep through the clouds, find light in the faces around you, in the tiny sacred moments of each and every day. Keep your eyes open. They disguise themselves often. And your eyes will need to readjust to the new light they bring.

Though you look down and see only brokenness, you will once again be whole. Though tears blind your eyes, they will once again dance with laughter. Though anger and confusion and numbness threaten to become ravenous in your core, you will learn to redefine them into healing, strength, wisdom, love. I have no doubt about your ability to do these things, though they may be hard. They are what you are destined for. Know compassion; breathe forgiveness; give up pride. Nothing is a waste if you learn from it.

We await the person you will become when you find out who you truly are: someone who has made mistakes; someone who gets up afterwards.

 “The sun, it does not cause us to grow. It is the rain that will strengthen your soul…it will make you whole.” –The Oh Hellos, I Have Made Mistakes


We carry one another’s burdens because alone they are too heavy. I carry the ones you give me, spreading them out so that together we can overcome. And you carry the ones I ask you to.

I am humbled each time.

We carry the burdens of many who will never know. We carry them in our hearts. Not for the glory or the recognition, but because we have realized that’s all we’re here for. Once you learn this, once it’s the song of your heart, your life changes...because it’s no longer lived for yourself alone.

The burdens are not easy to carry. In fact, your heart almost always seems to overflow. It never does. That’s the miracle. Your heart expands with each one, for it is fathomless—like your soul. It gets bigger and bigger the more it is filled. Suddenly, you’re helping carry hundreds of burdens, anxieties, fears, yet you are not overcome. You do not become burden, anxiety or fear. They are not what define you...love is.

It’s all we’re here for.