Where there is no love, put love – and you will find love.
– John of the Cross
In other words, where you hope to find love you should surely plant it. Not a romantic, dreamy kind of love. A substantial, broader kind of love that feeds your roots, calms your soul, brightens your life. (more…)
We forget that the seasons of life do not move as quickly as the seasons of spring, winter and fall. For some of us, we have never been known in summer; in full bloom. Some of us are re-emerging, seen for the first time.
I wrote this poem when as I was stepping back into myself after some time away. I realised that while the reflection of myself I saw in the eyes of others was familiar to me; they were seeing me for the first time.
Oh, the possibility that we could see ourselves new again, recognising our strength, our beauty, our wonder as if for the first time and without fear.
Fierce.
This woman is like an army in front of me
Like a great tiger out of hibernation
Everything about her uniform is strong,
she is oiled like snakeskin
I forget, you have forgotten her – before the Hiberation,
that great dark winter when she watched
hovering from the north west east south borders of you
And you, hidden in the corner, did not know me
before the winter; cracking brittle icicle heart.
That underneath, she is entirely fierce
You over there could not know, you there, have pushed it from your mind –
That I am always summer.
Always, like an unshakeable,
immovable living oak tree, a cedar, fragrant – I am drenched
in some internal sunshine, I am always summer merely beneath snow
My blazing flesh becoming sacred, holiness of ash and ice
I have a secret, layers of secrets over hidden things and the most
furthest hidden thing in my heart, beating like a drum…
I do not need to feel happy to be happy
Happiness is in me like spring, summer and snow
now that I have remembered
How to roar from within to always be warm,
the dancing hunt of the tiger, the flight of the dove –
do not forget me again (I will not forget myself)
I do not need to be happy as some people need happiness
or melancholy as fuel, not to be happy or sad
the deepest melancholy is joy to me in summer, spring or snow
I fear nothing, I am not burdened by desire – I am freer
than one who tries to satisfy the burn
the burn instead delights me
i do not need to feel happy to be happy
I am fierce, like summer.
Fearless like this army within me.
This is a thought on discipleship and journey with young people and young adults. For starters, I don’t really believe in young adult or even college ministry being separate from youth ministry in a church context, or even youth ministry being altogether separate from regular community activities. I’m thinking that the future looks far more like embedded than it does integrated. But that’s for later.
For now, I want to think about and talk about Shift & Return in youth ministry in the context of narrative theology and praxis.
There’s more on the theology and praxis side coming, but I need to choose those words really carefully and so I’m sitting on them for a while, but I can write about story and meaning. Throughout the scriptures, we return over and over to the same moments and fragments of history and narrative within the text. Parallelism, quoted prophets, the psalms are full of “remember, remember when”.
When the leadership and direction of the group of young adults I had been working with changed, one of them came to me wrestling with these new stories and new perspectives. I encouraged her, that she was the historian, the storyteller of the group. She had a unique ability to tell the “remember when” stories that surrounded that specific community with their values, their crisis and identity moments, their Shift moments, when something changed, shifted, became apparent or evidenced in their narrative. I think that learning to retell the Shift moments, helps us and our young people Return to the learning processes, the historical lessons, the framework that helps shape their tribal identity.
Similarly, those Shift & Return functions help to create a systemic, life-giving narrative that others can join. It can allow others to step into the story by retelling, relearning, reimagining and reassessing what we experienced, learned, changed and actioned as a result. So it helps a culture stay alive, helps a lesson stay truthful.
But I’m also thinking about Shift & Return in an individual’s life. Sometimes it seems no matter how hard a student or I try to shift from a place or a moment in history, we’re inevitably forced into Return mode. Unless we artfully shift our perspective or understanding of those moments, habits, stories and experiences – we risk becoming stuck in Return mode, constantly brought back to something that feels like the beginning. That’s not discipleship – because too often we ourselves end up perpetuating expectation of a pattern of thinking or behaviour in those around us that prohibits a different outcome.
I want to be a youthworker that harnesses the power of Shift & Return in our communal narrative for our individual discipleship experiences. I want to engage the 3rd dimension – the Up dimension. That as we return to moments, stories, habits our perspective on them changes… that we might move up and away from those narratives. All thorns have the potential to cause a scar. The scar in itself is not depth, but the opportunity for depth. Never returning isn’t depth, it’s just avoiding. Sometimes depth, understanding and growing as a disciple and a discipler is figuring out how to enable Shifting of perspectives, Returning to places of pain and moving Upwards, creating depth in character.
For starters, how do you engage Up? We have to disengage from Stuck mode. Expectation of the same result or behaviour needs to not become a normative feature of our youth ministries.
A few years ago, I let love grow deeply within my heart. It didn’t grow into anything fruitful, at least not on the outside. But I learned a lot about how to love someone wholly and completely.
It’s so easy to craft an image of love that is somehow shallow and momentarily fulfilling, pinning that to an ideal of romantic soulmates. As if somehow solving the mystery, finding your way through the maze to the goal of love fulfills purpose. In doing so, it can be so easy then to look around your present circumstances and feel less than.
However, when I think about the belly-shaking, heart-warming feeling that you’re supposed to get at the end of romantic movies… I get that all the time. In fact, I get that feeling every second day or so just opening my email inbox and seeing the names there.. people from all over the world that know me and dare I say.. like me and love me even a little bit.
After all – whether I am partnered by a lover, or by a team, or by my dearest friends… the expression of love may vary, but deep true Love in my life is present, and what I have of Love right now is more than enough. To be known in words, deeds, mannerisms. People who know what I’m thinking – I have all those things. People who stand beside me and love me, correct me and cheerlead. There are even people who believe in me more than I believe in myself… so what more is there? Anything more than this would be an abundance.. and a good good blessing, but not necessary. The Love I have right now is big and gutsy and resounding. I feel it in my belly all the way to my toes. I speak out the names of Love in my life and feel stronger and stronger.
Perhaps, it is the fear that I will be ok and that perhaps all the waiting is better spend in living. Because the Love I have is so much more than I could imagine or dream of. Perhaps it is the fear that in letting go of our peer expectations, our definitions of fulfilment, our idea of satisfaction.. we will be irrevocably changed. Is it enough to be satisfied, to love well and be well loved? To find expressions of physical intimacy that are appropriate and safe, that are engaged in the best of humanity. To recognise the fullness of life in the oneness of human life. To suggest that the key to Genesis is the ‘helpmeet’, the partnership..
In fact to go one step further and suggest that we are called to partner with each other in many varied and unique ways.. and these connections of love, expression and strength are in fact, the deepness and beauty of being in Love.
The love that I share, and am blessed with is still deep, abiding, gutsy love.
Not all women want to be maidens pursued. But then there are times when you do. Sometimes I want to be rescued, and sometimes I just want to be cheered on from the sidelines. Sometimes I really want other people to take charge, and sometimes no one needs to be in charge. The image I like most is discovering Love where it has already been waiting to be seen. The revelation of where Love is already abiding. I have a friend who I’ve known for years that I’m only just uncovering a deep Love for, a shared partnership and commonality. Still… I’m just a girl, and I’m prone to change my mind.
A Life Lived In Installments
Last night I told my story – at least all the important bits, to a complete stranger. When strung together, the instalments I have lived within, the pieces and palette that have shaped and fashioned me… sound like a cliche.
A Small Disgrace.
1. A Simple Untruth.
A lie starts with a whisper.
If you listen carefully to the words, the untruths slip with a heavy breath from the mouth. You have to be attuned to it of course, the slight catch in the throat, followed by the husky expulsion of warm air before the sound forms fully over the vocal chord. Ears twitch and listen for it in the hum of a café as your girlfriend recounts her Saturday night. You listen for small exaggerations, out of place adjectives and tinges of hesitation in her sentences.
The beginning of a simple untruth, like a loose thread that pulled too tightly threatens to unravel the fabric of a life. These sorts of untruths are shades of the truth in amongst lies, half-lies, half-truths and the Truth itself.
In this particular life, the simple untruths are rapidly growing out of control, and things are quickly unraveling. Although day by day, it goes unnoticed, without any measure of control the whispers are overwhelming truth and soon she will be lost in deception, hidden in the shadow of a small disgrace.
A small disgrace once kept out of view, but now being revealed as gently as a blanket is unraveled thread by thread.
2. Nothing happened today.
That was the first half-truth that was spoken from her lips.
At least, it was the first half-truth of any importance. Previously, white grey lies had only been in regards to trivial things like boys, using her sisters’ perfume, her mother’s make-up, how much homework there was left to do and the reasons why she was late to class. Simple lies that never connected or added to anything. But today her throat did catch, and her voice was husky as she formed the words so uncertainly.
“Nothing happened today.”
It was a foolish lie to begin with, because much happens every day between the sun rising and setting; the delivery of milk and the collection of rubbish on Monday mornings. All of these things had happened today. What she was trying to say, was that nothing important happened today.
But even that was a half-truth because it was the sum of insignificant things happening that Monday that led to the first situation she had ever willingly and knowingly covered with deceit. At first, she kept the dangerous truth from her mother, and then from her sisters and father, until it became the truth that she was keeping from everyone. That is when the unravelling began.
3. A Monday of Insignificant Events.
Mondays are not always pleasant and this particular Monday was no exception, besides being her 17th birthday. After a breakfast, she walked to school. Schoolyards and classrooms are the birthplace of many half-lies and untruths. For her, school is both triumph and tragedy, a place she escapes to with questions and ideas. Neither a genius or a fool, she engages with the marvellous possibilities of “what if?” in the schoolyard, because the rest of her life is dictated by pragmatism and realism. Although she doesn’t know it yet, she will spend the next 5 years determining exactly what extent one has to engage with reality. Her struggle both frustrates her and defines her; one of many things she will call character-shaping.
For now, she indulges in the books of great writers and history, calculus and chemistry equations inside a mind that is cluttered in the malleable form of a developing psyche. She is there, just under the surface and yet still becoming herself.
At 8.45am she is walking through the school gates, passing by younger students walking less confidently and classmates who look bored. She is however, wandering along a clifftop, face out into the wind looking at grey clouds breaking on the horizon. On the clifftop she feels powerful and small, and believes in God. She spends hours each day reminding herself why she believes in God.
Not because she is scared of not believing, but because she is scared of forgetting.