When it comes to dating, I can be something of a fearful cynic. I feel I must cushion my heart in case I will be greatly disappointed. Somehow I have expected that it is very likely that however much I like a man at the outset, it may very well turn out to be a show--that somehow, underneath, I will find thin roots. Perhaps it is influenced by the man-shaming preached from some pulpits, or from that horrible cultural idea that dehumanizes men by saying they only ever want "one thing". I can only imagine the heavy load this places upon men. It surely places a different kind of a load upon single women.

Despite all of this, there is a part of me that sustains hope. Surely every man is just as much a sinner as I am. But surely, too, there is a man oozing with the fruit of grace. Surely there are men who bear some fruit that dangles within eye-sight, but bear a greater number hidden beneath. Men who believe Jesus when he said the Father who sees what is done in secret will reward them. Men who bear the girth of their character like an iceberg. They may not feel they have anything to show, but for those allowed to enter in, they find the fingerprints of Christ covered all over the place. 

I'm praying for an "iceberg man". But then, I also am praying to be an "iceberg woman". 

By God's grace, may it be so.

     I think it is only human to want to sign dotted lines and put rings on fingers. I think it is only human to want to join lives with others for something of a long haul. In a world that largely keeps friends for entertainment or a felt need's sake, the turnover rate is high. The voices of career, adventure, and wanderlust are nearly irresistible to my generation. Much--sometimes rightly--is sacrificed in following these voices. Some things must be left behind if others are to be picked up. Some things must be lost if others are to be gained. 

There is something in the twenty-something narrative that suggests recent graduates go on a kind of wild, responsibility-free romp across the earth. Or at least we are encouraged with words like "Go do that now...while you are young. Go there now...while you can. Experience new things and take risks...before you are tied down with a spouse and children." Are our remaining years of youth to be spent building castles in the sand? If we tie ourselves to nothing, will we sow anything worth reaping?

When you are a child, life feels like an eternity. Changes come and go, but you have not noticed the bitter aftertaste of the transient lingering in your mouth. With age you begin to see Death and the breaking down of things becomes more clear. Slowly, the myth of an unbreakable world shatters. At some point, after being a mere spectator, you become the one being broken down--and everything around you follows the pattern. Earth feels less and less like the Eden you expected it to be, and the Heaven you expected to find merely flickers through moments.

Things fall apart. Life is full of things that feel solid but melt beneath our touch. But there are some things that stand unchanged. 

There are some seeds that grow into oaks. 

While we live in this age, we cannot escape the decay. But we can throw our energy, our time, our love, and our lives into Things unfading. We spend ourselves in hope of a harvest. 

We must touch a place on earth with a name on it. We do live in tents, but we must stake them among neighbors. We must know the names of the lost, and we must share bread and wine with a family in Covenant. 

There is a kind of joy in having a land to tend. There is a kind of joy in setting aside the romance of alternatives and committing yourself to the few right down your street. 
To know your place and dwell in it. 
To look into faces, studying their griefs and joys, and casting your net for the Good of them. 

And we will love without interruption

fearless of thorn, serpent, and pain

for the One who loved us first

will help us love without end

He was still young enough to believe in his strength.

                                                                      --Wendell Berry

The theme of weakness has been on my mind for the past month. My knee jerk reaction has been to run--if I am weak, failure and disappointment are sure to follow, so areas of exposed weakness have been fearfully avoided. But the Lord has been prompting me with this:

"Don't resist weakness." 

 Don't resist the strain of shifting all of your weight upon Another. Don't flee when you don't know what to do. Don't pack up when a Sunday School answer won't suffice, or when you find shadows in every shaft of light. Where others find silver-linings, my senses have become tuned to the bitter dredges found inside every toasting cup. The Kingdom is yet to come. Every moment groans with the wait.

In the meantime, we stand by His grace, trusting that His strength will be perfected there. It will come in when we are desperate, devoid of both halo and cape. It will come when we need it. And when our felt weakness stems from noticing a limp hand of faith, we can direct our gaze upon the Object and Source of our faith. We do not put our faith in faith--we put our faith in Christ.

Drawn Out of Isolation

I have been reading Proverbs over and over, and there are some verses that strike me each time around. One of them is Proverbs 18:1 "He who separates himself seeks his own desire, he quarrels against all sound wisdom". The Spirit has been using this verse to illuminate that I do this. I am guilty of self-isolation. I am guilty of hiding away from others.

"Community" is something of a buzzword in Christian culture right now, but the tangible implications of what that looks like doing and what that looks like giving up are still being worked out in me. I'm still growing into it, watching my limbs fill in the crevices and pushing my arms through sleeves. I'm a strong idealist and I revel in what that looks like, but I'm still in the present process of translating what obedience means at the eye-level of life. 

I have come to realize that I face many temptations to "separate myself" as an introvert. There is both a selfish temptation to hoard the things I have been given to steward and a fearful temptation to self-protect by failing to make myself known. As a single, it is easy to settle with focusing on whether my own "needs" are being "met", looking no further than the demands of the daily grind. The hoarding is a bit of keeping my life "neat" for myself in an effort to minimize dissonance and discomfort. But this bothers me. It bothers me that I am content with keeping up with work, paying bills, and having some fun here and there. Joy breaks into a boil when I recognize that I can exchange fleeting things in for eternal things. 

The self-protection is a little bit more subtle. It is possible to be "around" your church and fail to be in community. It is possible to be with your church for every meeting and still live unknown. I think we all want others to pursue us, for others to find questions that get to our deepest core. But there is a prideful and fearful kind of isolation that refuses to come outside unless they are pursued with extraordinary persistence and uncanny intuition. It is prideful because I think that I am so "special" that someone should be willing to go to such great lengths to draw me out. It is fear driven because I fear rejection from anyone who didn't prove their acceptance by pursuing me. It bothers me that I use more effort to preserve myself instead of allowing my soul to be revealed. It's only in that place that I can receive counsel and instruction, enjoy fellowship, and comfort others with the Comfort I've received where I've needed it most. It's only there that I can serve others and be served, living as one who is not simply a redeemed individual, but one who is a part of a redeemed people.

It is not good for man to be alone. I am so grateful that being a part of the church means that I don't have to be.

A Prayer for Fruitfulness

She was a woman who loved her hen flock and her garden and her flowers. Every day, from early spring to late fall, she made a little wander around her house and yard to see what was coming up or getting ready to bloom or blooming. She was always bringing home some plant or seed or root and "sticking it in the ground" to see if it would grow.

-Wendell Berry

Lord, make me a woman whose words and actions stick people in the dirt of the gospel, watching You make them grow. 

Let my life beget life.

 Make me into a woman who builds up with her hands and tongue rather than one who tears everything down. 

Make me into a cultivator, one who flours her hands for the work of kneading and watches life rise.

Friendship Love

I recently wrote a love poem that was intended to speak of two lovers. This poem is meant to speak of the friendship kind of love between a man and a woman--one that is often filled with a kind of tension but has a loveliness of its own. It is a love that builds up and prods the other on, hoping a holy vision for the other--but it is also often a temporary one.


I will eye your beauty
not as a treasure to keep
but as a light to behold
and blow a little brighter

I will turn my feet
When another comes 
to walk beside you
and you together 
turn to stare

I will count
every shared gasp
struck by the same vision
every shared laugh
giddy with perpetual Rescues

All of these
all of you
a gift received
a gift returned
till Heaven descends