dear little girl,

You are yet to be born, but may I be the first to say to you...
He is Risen !!!

Each year (and I can't wait for you to join us!) we celebrate this Easter Sunday as our greatest day! And it's because this God-man named Jesus stood in our place of guilt and took the punishment due us for our desire to love ourselves above the One who created us (as you are now being created in your mother's belly). And we also celebrate because, though His taking of our punishment was complete, it did not triumph over Him... He won! It's His greatest day too!

So today we party and laugh and eat and drink and dance and run and shout and seek to live in this hope - Jesus who was chosen by God (that's what the words Messiah and Christ mean) now lives in us today and every tomorrow after us!

At the right moment we will meet, little granddaughter.
And the first thing I will do is give you the sign of the instrument of His death on your forehead... my prayer that He will mark you by His new way of life.

See you soon!

Disciples John and Peter on their way to the Tomb on Easter Morning

Eugene Burnand, 1898

John 20:1-18

Lord, you have passed over into new life, and you now invite us to Passover also. In these past days we have grieved at your sufferings and mourned at your death... Now at Easter you reveal to us that we have died to sin, passing over to your risen life!   BERNARD of CLAIRVAUX

dear knox,

This is the world you were born into...

A world and a people who crucify.

I hope you begin to let the realities of this place get near you at an early age, knowing that none of these realities can bring you harm. Here is Holy Saturday's truth:

Nothing compares to the explosion of yesterday's death of Jesus.

The earth cracked as did our hearts.
Grief is such a watered-down word at this point.
There is bile in my mouth from witnessing the endless suffering of God's Son.
And to meditate on the thought that it was for me! Because of me!!
Nothing compares to the explosion of yesterday's death of Jesus.

Except for tomorrow.
Just wait.

Transport of Christ to the Tomb

Antonio Ciseri, 19th Century

John 19:38-42

Help us, we pray, to make known to our world that its cause for despair is ended, and that its suffering and its sin will one day be no more. This we ask in the name of the risen Christ, and for His sake. Amen.   MURRAY RAE

dear will,

May I offer you this short observation on Pilate as a foundation for this Good Friday:

Politics, the shrewd art of tact and prudence, is Pilate's way of operating.
And mine too, if I am honest...

How many years have I sought to influence the actions of others for win-win results?
How many words have I used to maneuver myself into looking good?
How often have I sought to reap benefits while pleasing others at the same time?
Each time being left more empty than before, asking...

What is truth?

Although Jesus remained silent when Pilate asked these three words, Jesus answered Pilate by standing in front of him. The answer is Him. And He answers us the same way.
He stands in front of us.
Exhibit One.
Exhibit Only.

He offers not words to explain truth. He offers Person.
Today is the awkward celebration of His offering.
Yes, to humanity and the Jews and the Gentiles and to Pilate.
And to you.
And to me.

So, let us "celebrate" by allowing Him space to stand in front of us this day. To hang in front of us. To be buried in front of us. And then, we might have a new and bigger space to let Him you-know-what on Sunday.

Ecco Homo - "Here is the Man"

Antonio Ciseri, 19th Century

John 18:28-19:16

O Lord God our Father... Do not allow any of us to remain apathetic or indifferent to the wondrous glory of Easter, but let the light of our risen Lord reach every corner of our dull hearts.    KARL BARTH

dear jessica,

Today is a big day for you... finding out if you will have a daughter or a son! I'd like to share with you these mid-14th century words from Geert Groote (please don't name your child that) as you live out this Maundy Thursday:

Here you should call to memory some of the special and most loving words from that meal so as to grasp in your heart how much love Jesus showed them there. For instance, 
     I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I die.
     You will know that you are my disciples if you love one another.
     You will weep and mourn while the world rejoices; you will grieve,
          but your grief will turn to joy.
     I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to see you.

You ought to understand, to break and to chew upon those words with al your strength, and with great sobs you should observe how far you are from them yourself. Then consider the prayer he uttered in agony and his resignation of himself into the hands of his heavenly Father even to bitter death and also that bloody sweat he sweat in fear of the death he was about to suffer. Now throw yourself to the ground and with the loud voice of your heart and folded hands cry out and say, "O grieving Lord, how shall I repay you for all you have given me. I will accept the cup of salvation"      (Psalm 116:12).

Lamb

Francisco Zurbaran, 17th century

Today's Lectionary:

• Exodus 12:1-4, 11-14
• Psalm 116:1-2, 12-19
• 1 Corinthians 11:23-26
• John 13:1-17, 21b-35

Blessed are those who dwell in your house; they are ever praising you.  PSALM 84:4

dear bo,

There was a moment when Jesus turned His whole self (mind, body and soul) toward the cross. It came after an instance in which His disciples were arguing about which of the twelve were greatest, followed by a statement of John against someone trying to get into their inner circle. The moment is found in Luke 9, verse 51:

As the time approached for Him to be taken up to heaven, Jesus resolutely set out for Jerusalem.

Knowing those closest to Him would deny, disown and desert Him, He set His face like a stone toward His Father's desire.

And what about Judas? Since he betrayed Jesus, this admired and trusted member of the Twelve must have had resolute moments as well. Throughout today, the day before the Great Triduum begins (Maundy Thursday through Easter morn), I will meditate on one difficult question: How am I like Judas?

Head of Judas

Boltraffio, late 15th century

Today's Lectionary:

• Isaiah 50:4-9a
• Psalm 70
• Hebrews 12:1-3
• John 13:21-32

Almighty God, who sees we have no power of ourselves to help ourselves; keep us both outwardly in our bodies and inwardly in our souls; that we may be defended from all adversities... and all evil thoughts which may hurt the soul; through Jesus Christ our Lord, Amen.    COLLECT FOR THE SECOND SUNDAY OF LENT 

dear katie,

The way in which the woman in this sculpture leans back awakens something in me. Is she falling back into the Hands of God, as Jesus must have been doing during this week, entrusting His whole self to God? Or is she lifting high her whole being in gratitude, also as Jesus was lifted high on the cross? Or is she using her final breath to call upon the invisible God, yes even as Jesus did? Can she take anymore? Can you take anymore during this season? Ready to give up giving up? Ready to move on to another church calendar season?

Well. We all will very, very soon. But let me be an encouragement - stay with Jesus. As He walked these final days on earth, riding a donkey, washing other's feet, spreading His arms in love on Friday... becoming nothing. Take some time here with scripture or the study of this woman. Stay with Jesus just a while longer.

Beloved
Linda Crossan, 2000

Today's Lectionary:

• Isaiah 49:1-7
• Psalm 71:1-14
• 1 Corinthians 1:18-31
• John 12:20-36

Let me always remember You, love You, meditate upon You, and pray to You until You restore me to Your perfect image.    - AUGUSTINE OF HIPPO

dear holly,

As the busyness of another Monday arrives, and the industry and tide of life makes time fly by unnoticed... Holy Week releases a scent. Bidding us stop. Here, today, now, like Mary, find something that makes you stop.

Use a thesaurus to look up silence.
Choose at least one of today's Scripture.
Or sit long with Qi He's, Mary Magdalene as she anoints the feet of our Jesus.

And the fragrance of the oils fills your house.

Mary Magdalene
Qi He, 2001

Today's Lectionary:

• Isaiah 42:1-9
• Psalm 36:5-11
• Hebrews 9:11-15
• John 12:1-11

Lord, I seek you with all my heart, with all the strength you have given me. I long to understand that which I believe.   - AUGUSTINE OF HIPPO

dear kathie,

Like a carrot placed in front of a donkey, you lead me with your love for the visual. Over this Holy Week of our Lord, I will offer an image for meditation with the Lectionary readings and maybe a little reflection.

Traditionally the beginning of Holy Week is, of course, Palm Sunday. But it is also known as Passion Sunday. Most churches choose one of these tracts for their style of worship on this day. Palm Sunday is a more raucous approach noticing and imitating the crowds as they heralded Jesus' ride into Jerusalem with shouts of "Save us!" Those participating in a more subdued Passion Sunday are preparing for the quieter and more reflective journey of the Week to come.

Because I do not write on Sundays, I now offer you tomorrow's Passion readings:

Isaiah 50:4-9a
Psalm 31:9-16
Philippians 2:5-11
Like 22:14-23:56

Croatian Palm Sunday
Divinity Library, Vanderbilt University


Rows of grapes
with greenery in hand
shoulder to shoulder
awaiting the Lamb,
God-compacted-Man
threatening to show
those of us who never
could know
the press and pack
of Three into One
resulting in awe
diminished by none.

dear todd,

I'm so glad you and your wife spent last night with us. You were in high school when I left Asheville, some thirty years your elder. Even still, something awoke within me when you walked into our home. Standing in the back hallway there was no great desire to be introduced to any new thing... our house, our town, our almost nine years missed with one another. Instead the Spirit of gladness filled the air in our words but, even more so, in the silence between the words.

And I would wager this. You might be a little drunk when it comes to your pleasant thoughts of me. Good eye contact, a little gray hair and well-crafted words can greatly advance my persona in the thoughts of man.

Since others can articulate this much better than I, and since it's the Saturday before Holy week begins, may I cut this letter short with a poem, a quote and a verse which are so applicable to me.

A Warning to my Readers, by Wendell Berry

Do not think me gentle

because I speak in praise

of gentleness, or elegant

because I honor the grace

that keeps this world. I am

a man crude as any,

gross of speech, intolerant,

stubborn, angry, full

of fits and furies. That

I may have spoken well

at times is not natural.

A wonder is what it is.

"There could not be anything more foolish than an untaught man, such as I confess I am, to presume to teach what he knows nothing about"   Bernard of Clairvaux

I'm speaking to you out of deep gratitude for all that God has given me, and especially as I have responsibilities in relation to you. Living then, as every one of you does, in pure grace, it's important that you not misinterpret yourselves as people who are bringing this goodness to God. No, God brings it all to you. The only accurate way to understand ourselves is by what God is and by what He does for us, not by what we are and what we do for Him.    Romans 12:3 (The Message)

Apart from God I have nothing.

Apart from God I am nothing.

Let us now together approach the Week before us with sobriety and anticipation.

dear devon,

Since you told me the story of your long-hoped-for reunion, I have (as the great saints might say) rejoiced exceedingly! Over and over I have celebrated what God is presently unfolding to you.

Also, maybe you can help me with something. Do you remember the time I gave all the guys in our small group so much crap for watching The Bachelor? Lately, and I'm not sure why, Paul's words in 1 Corinthians 10 keep returning to me. The heading in the NIV is, The Believer's Freedom:

"I have the right to do anything" you say - but not everything is beneficial. "I have the right to do anything" - but not everything is constructive. No one should seek their own good, but the good of others.

To have one eye about things, a single vision to know God above everything, even the blessings of reconciled relationships, is to live purely and wholly in every circumstance of life. Listen to Sir Robert Southwell who was martyred for his faith at the age of 33 in the late 16th century:

Diversity begats confusion, and perfects not art.
It is difficult to imitate even one thing correctly.
Graft your thoughts into some good stock.
Suck the sap from a fruitful root.
Change of juices does not ripen, but rots the fruit.
He who is familiar to all is friend to none.
You will never be your own, if always with everybody.
Among many strangers, you will have but few friends.
Transplant not your mind into such varieties;
suffer it to take root in some one soil.
Plants frequently transplanted sooner wither than blossom.
It is an unwholesome appetite that tastes of everything and relishes nothing.
He who sips of all and sticks to none is unsteady of heart.
Recall then your senses.
Restrain your wandering mind.
Think upon a new course.
Count yourself worthy of something to which you may in future adhere.
Be at home somewhere and live there by rule;
then go forth to other places, like a guest looking towards a home.

Am I living spiritually bipolar? Thankful to God for blessing me while transplanting myself from soil to soil? Do I practice the spiritual life in season only? Do I hop from book to book, from quote to quote, from blog to blog sipping someone else's juice so I don't have to sit still at home in my own interior world?

Maybe I wanted to write to you specifically because you are in a place of opportunity. What is it like to receive such a gift from God yet hold it loosely? How do you worship our Lord alone, anticipating even more of Him, yet without the expectation of more blessing?

I hear that throwing myself humbly upon the mercy of God is the only path.
Maybe we could listen together over coffee?

dear jc,

I miss our times together at Earthfare snacking on trail mix and marveling that God would use the likes of us with His people.

Something hit me this morning as I was meditating on the three denials of Peter found in Luke 22.  After his last denial the scripture says, "Just as he was speaking, the rooster crowed. The Lord turned and looked straight at Peter."

Then I began to speculate...

• It must have been true love in the eyes of Jesus that awakened Peter's failure.
• Judas' betrayal and the sudden arrest of Jesus created such angst and confusion in Peter that it uncharacteristically froze him in this flash of crisis. 
• The impact on Peter was so great because of some deep and unknown betrayal from his own past.

Then it hit me. I love to speculate.

Getting a little nugget of insight makes me feel engaged, which could make me feel really good about myself, which is a slippery slope leading to pride. Don't get me wrong. A reverent imagination, while listening to God during times of meditation, is a rich blessing from God. Yet, I have an instinct to worship blessings instead of simply worshiping the Blesser.

I carry a quote from Larry Crabb around with me. It's the only thing stuck between the pages of my Bible, and I use it as a reminder of "how to be with". How to be with a friend. How to be with Scripture. How to be with myself.

My job is to follow the Spirit's movement desiring an aroused appetite for God that could lead to somewhere good. To tag along with the present Spirit into this life, into scripture, into one another and into His Very Self.

Wow.

His Spirit and Life in me! Moving in my bloodstream, firing between my brain synapses, blowing throughout every crack and crevice of my soul!

I'm so glad Jesus earlier said to Peter, "Follow Me".

He says it to us in the very same way.

Follow Me.

dear knox,

There are some things that your parents won't tell you about the covert actions they employ to raise you. In the future they will have many closed door sessions about how they might shape your strong will and how they might prevent breaking your wonderful spirit. They will lower their voices and often fight with each other over how to discipline you. I hate telling you this, but they will also speak in code from time to time.

So as your grandfather, I feel it my duty to clue you in on a few things.

First, let me say this: They are rookies. That's a nice way of saying that they are making it up as they go. Although they are learning on you, I would like for you to cut them some slack over the next 50 years. Also, there is a much deeper reason for giving them space to fail and succeed.,,

They are trusting you.

Yes, it may sound strange that your parents are trying to trust someone who still wets his pants. But it's true. And it's a right thing for them to start so early. For example,

• They let you put things into your mouth that don't belong there, trusting you will discover this truth on your own.
• They help you understand the word NO in little ways, trusting you will discover a big freedom in the future that is found within boundaries.
• They will allow you to make bad choices, trusting you will be shaped by God through the impending results.
• They will allow you to keep some bad company, trusting you will lean on Another to love the bad company instead of follow the bad company.

Let me say it another way.
At the moment, you rely on them for 100% of everything - food, cleaning, transportation, shelter, etc. But you would be mistaken to think that the job of your Mama and Papa is to reduce your reliance on them down to zero percent. Their job is not to teach you to be independent... their job is to teach you to be dependent on Another.

Even as rookies, they are showing great courage. Ultimately they are trusting God with you. In learning to count on them now, you are preparing yourself in advance to trust Another. And that will be your greatest hope come true!

When you are older I'd like for you to read these words from a man named John Piper...

The harder it seems for God to fulfill his promise, the better he looks when you trust him. Suppose that you are at the deep end of a pool by the diving board. You are four years old and can’t swim, and your daddy is at the other end of the pool. Suddenly a big, mean dog crawls under the fence and shows his teeth and growls at you and starts coming toward you to bite you. You crawl up on the diving board and walk toward the end to get away from him. The dog puts his front paws up on the diving board. Just then, your daddy sees what’s happening and calls out, “Johnny, jump in the water. I’ll get you.”

Now, you have never jumped from one meter high and you can’t swim and your daddy is not underneath you and this water is way over your head. How do you make your daddy look good in that moment? You jump. And almost as soon as you hit the water, you feel his hands under your arms and he treads water holding you safely while someone chases the dog away. Then he takes you to the side of the pool.

We give glory to God when we trust him to do what he has promised to do–especially when all human possibilities are exhausted. Faith glorifies God.

Love,
Pops

dear Jesus,

This morning I sit still in the quiet and wait.
Then I write whatever prayers rise up in me.

• Silence is our friend, my Lord, our place.
• All my anxiety I transfer to the evil one, for I hear he becomes restless when my center is You.
• In the unpolluted quiet, my soul tilts toward gratitude.
• for the beauty of the fifteen friends in our home last night that overwhelm me to the point of not knowing what to do with such a large amount of beauty. And I don't want to know... I just want to enjoy!
• for the way You are keeping my friend from having what she wants in ministry, so that she might have more of You instead.
• for my brother who is learning to trash the scorecard way of living to embrace the One who by His death made Himself the Way to the Father.
• for my wife who marvels at You like a child who walks into a Christmas morning around the tree.
• for the creativity my little sister is discovering.
• I long for time to slow down. Or better said, I am longing to live more present to the people in my moment, slowing time.
• I resist now the urge to wrap up this time of prayer and now...
• I confess:
• I have created a life with little need for confession.
• my impurities include the demand for order and clarity.
• I am still prone to sell my agenda with spiritual language.
• I critique the way other's worship You.
• I have purposefully declined opportunities to be gracious, because it would prove inconvenient.
• I like food too much. 
• I am not keen to all my ways that are in need of forgiveness.
• For the young children whom Kathie and I know and love: the challenge of living in this world but not living of this world seems to increase... they must have Your strength. Shape their spirits earlier than we would ever imagine with courage and trust, to look like Jesus.
• For Your blessings, thank You. But above all, for You, the Blesser, I lift my hands in my now public closet, asking you to inhabit the eyes of each reader and pray-er who calls upon You with me.
• After this hour of prayer, I begin to understand why Martin Luther, once said, "I have so much to do this day that I shall spend the first three hours in prayer."
• Make the incline of my heart for You to steepen.
• Great and Holy Three-in- One, on this 30th day of Lent, to You be glory in my Family and in me, for Your sake.

Yes.

dear kolby,

Two purchases to make before your son is born:

1) buy the boy your favorite book.

if he is born blind,

read it to him

and he will grow in love by the sound of your voice.

if he is born deaf,

act out the words to him

that his eyes may see the affection of his parents.

if he is dumb,

teach him to write his own story

that he may nurture others as you have him.

2) buy the boy a baseball glove.

if he is born athletic,

play catch with him

and he will thank you on ESPN one day.

if he is born artistic,

he will go to games with you

and readily learn to appreciate your love for roasted peanuts.

if he is born poor,

catch a few innings together at the local high school

and your joint-account will rise a few pennies at a time.

And when the boy chooses to turn from the love he is born into,

refusing to hear that he is the beloved,

living a lie to all he loves…

the sound of a turning page

or the crack of a bat

will bid him return.

dear brady and cindy,

I love Saturdays.

But knowing languages as you do, you'll know that the origin of the word is very unique. Most linguists together agree on the definition of Saturday to be "day of Saturn" because of its multi-layered connotations similar to the multi-layered gases around the planet of Saturn.

A few of the many different ancient language definitions of the word Saturday:

1. Latin - To sleep in. (Satiate' - satisfying, Ur - late, Day - morning)
2. Gaulish - Take it easy. (Sa - to remain, Tura - at ease, Da - all, Y - suffix meaning "to end")
3. Greek - Work in the yard. (Sat - work, Urday - garden)
4. Old Egyptian - Change the oil in your truck. (Shate - oil, Tordo - to change, Rday - truck)
5. Aramaic - I wish we could go to a baseball game today. (SAtur - slang for "baseball", DYa - to play)
6. Paleo-Balkan - Finish posting your blog so you can enjoy the day (Turo - arise to finish, Sa - Prefix meaning "time-consuming blog", Daya - take pleasure in)
7. Ancient Spanish - Play. (Shatron - to climb a tree, Turni - with your sons,   Raday - because Buddy and Kathie say so) 

dear steve,

Sometimes one little reading or sermon or conversation will make a lifetime adjustment at my core. Bob Benson's paragraph was one of these. He wrote in Disciplines for the Inner Life,

The Psalms were written when the enemies were real... death literally stalked the writers. And while it is true that we are not engaged in battles with marching armies - and with lions and tigers - we do well to remember that we are also beset by enemies even though they be inward. And if we are going to be victorious in our spiritual warfare it will be as God helps us to defeat a host of enemies such as pride, lust, worry, divided loyalty, depression, lack of willpower, anger, greed and countless other contestants for our souls.

When we read and pray as embattled strugglers on our spiritual pathways the Psalms become deep sources of comfort and help to us.


Since you gave me that book in 1987, I have prayed the Psalms differently.
And in this mornings Psalm 71 as well:

For you have been my hope, Sovereign Lord,

my confidence since my youth.

From birth I have relied on you;

you brought me forth from my mother’s womb.

I will ever praise you.

I have become a sign to many;

you are my strong refuge.

My mouth is filled with your praise,

declaring your splendor all day long.

Do not cast me away when I am old;

do not forsake me when my strength is gone.

For my enemies speak against me;

those who wait to kill me conspire together.

They say, “God has forsaken him;

pursue him and seize him,

for no one will rescue him.”

Do not be far from me, my God;

come quickly, God, to help me.

May my accusers perish in shame;

may those who want to harm me

be covered with scorn and disgrace.

As for me, I will always have hope;

I will praise you more and more.

This morning I stop and remember the days of my youth, prompted also by yesterday's letter to Bill. How much more I can see, now at the age of 55, that You, O Lord, have indeed been my hope. Whether walking the back woods of my grandfather's farm or sitting under the stars at Camp John Knox. Whether being kicked out of college or being dumped by a girlfriend. Over the years You have been patiently enticing me into Your love.

Even still my accusers seek their influence upon me. Inwardly they work to seize me and spiral me into a dark hole of self-pity. Voices, if you will, speaking of past hurts and wrongs that invite me to write argumentative dialogues with others that I always win. Curse not these people in my life, O Lord, they are my Family. Instead, rescue me from the pit of disappointment, save me from thinking that there is any nourishment an empty, black cave might offer to me, Your child.

From birth I have relied on You.

You alone have been my portion.

I have been carried to this place of wonder in life:

A marriage of 31 years to my best friend.

Three children who love You.

Two daughter-in-laws that know that You alone are God.

A grandson and another on the way.

A wealth of Family.

A body that can praise you with a shovel in hand.

Ears that are learning to listen.

A tongue that is doing less self-talk.

Through You, Jesus, Your child is becoming a sign to many.

Not to me, Lord, not to me,

but to Your Name be the glory,

because of Your love and faithfulness.

dear bill,

I remember everyone saying how you had Fred Biletnikoff hands. I'd try to block a defensive lineman after snapping the ball to Al Vesser, then look up to see the ball magically glue itself to the fingertips of number 53. That was the first time I ever remember being awed by a peer.

Dad died a year prior to this team photo. And the coach asked my mom not to sign me up again for football saying, "Your son is terrific at only one thing... helping people off the pile." It was the last year #61 put on the pads.

You were close to me even then. And I'm still in awe of you.

This morning I read another of Catherine Doherty's letters. Thinking of all the ways I have been defensive since Pee Wee football, these words describe the great desire of my heart, the place where Christ dwells:

A defenseless person is a trusting and meek person, a person full of faith, with a heart of a child to whom belongs the kingdom of heaven. People who are defenseless are open to all the pain and thrusts of the knives of other people's words, glances and deeds, because they are strong in faith and strong in love; because they don't retaliate, nor defend themselves; in a word, they are meek. They are not hurt, for the sharp arrows of words and deeds bounce off the shield of meekness and fall at the feet of the attacker and the attacked.

Oh, what manner of love is this that our Lord has given to us!

To be meek and defenseless.

To drop the passes and the pads.

To stop protecting and pretending.

To no longer be a Pee Wee.

dear doug,

I am an out-loud, verbal processor. Instead of listening to me yesterday, you listened to God while I spoke with you about my aloneness. Thank you.

As much as Kathie and I long for a community, we have often felt alone. I'm sure that much of this has come from my own fears and insecurities... if others keep me at an arm's distance, it probably began with my stiff arm to them. And I am such a strong drink of water to most folks, still big and brash, loud and large, foolish and frightening.

As we spoke at Panera my mind was led back twenty years ago to a book I still cherish, Henri Nouwen's The Return of the Prodigal Son. I'm sure it was prompted by the comment you made to me of how lonely it can be to be a father to so many. Nouwen says:

I see clearly the truth of my vocation to be a father; at the same time it seems almost impossible to follow it. I don't want to stay home while everyone goes out, whether driven by their many desires or their many angers. I feel these same impulses and want to run around like others do! But who is going to be home when they return - tired, exhausted, excited, disappointed, guilty or ashamed? Who is going to convince them that, after all is said and done, there is a safe to return to and receive an embrace? If it is not I, who is it going to be? The joy of fatherhood is vastly different from the pleasure of the wayward children. It is a joy beyond rejection and loneliness; yes, even beyond affirmation and community. It is the joy of a fatherhood that takes its name from the heavenly Father and partakes in His divine solitude.

Nouwen speaks to me of a Godly aloneness that is to be embraced. But there is also an ungodly aloneness that I can place myself into that encourages others to avoid me, thus making me feel alone. You can see my prayer emerging from these words. I will pray for you in your pilgrimage this week, as you pray for me.

dear patrick,

I am threatened by a chart of quantitative data.

Each morning I log on the computer to post a blog entry, as I am now. And each time I am greeted by a large graph, informing me of how many have read my blog this month, week, day and even moment. Although I never know who reads it, I do know how many. This is having an effect on me.

Jesus would have been rejected by Joseph if not for an angel's intervention.
Jesus in Mary's womb was rejected by the innkeepers in Bethlehem.
Most every leader of His people, Pharisees and Sadducees, did as well.
Many of His followers also, saying, "Your teaching is too hard! We will not walk with You anymore!"
Philip constantly rejected Jesus with silly questions.
Peter momentarily did.
And Judas used a kiss to do so.
His hometown too, saying Jesus was "just the son of a carpenter!"
All the disciples in Gethsemane slept.
The people whom He taught and even healed called out for His death.
And the supreme rejection, "Why have You forsaken Me?"

Catherine Doherty reflects on this:

It is said that Jesus was like us in everything but sin, and He experienced all that we in our humanity have to know and experience of pain and of sorrow. It stands to reason that He would experience the feelings of rejection also so as to help us in our neurotic, psychotic century.


If I am to enter the passion of Jesus, I am to enter a meditation on the word rejection. Not to have a greater definition so much as to know the One rejected. And to know His likeness and nearness to me. And to be reminded of God's words to me through Isaiah:

Can the mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See I have engraved you on the palms of My hands.

dear matt, josh and brad,

Thanks for letting me write to you again with another thing I'd do different with my leadership in Young Life if given the chance. Even with the strong current of demands that I had flowing against me, I would pay more attention to Sabbath-keeping. And I would do it, because He commands me to.

The beginning is to start with a right definition. Sabbath-keeping (Shabbat) is not taking a day off to do whatever I please. It means to re-create. For six days God created, on the seventh He shabbated... re-created. There is so much poured out of a space in me that needs to be re-filled, and keeping Sabbath is the only way this refilling can occur. A day of play and pray. A day of rest and worship.

I love this Billy Collins poem:

The Chairs That No One Sits In

You see them on porches and on lawns

down by the lakeside,

usually arranged in pairs implying a couple

who might sit there and look out

at the water or the big shade trees.

The trouble is you never see anyone

sitting in these forlorn chairs

though at one time it must have seemed

a good place to stop and do nothing for a while.

Sometimes there is a little table

between the chairs where no one

is resting a glass or placing a book facedown.

It may not be any of my business,

but let us suppose one day

that everyone who placed those vacant chairs

on a veranda or a dock sat down in them

if only for the sake of remembering

what it was they thought deserved

to be viewed from two chairs,

side by side with a table in between.

The clouds are high and massive on that day.

The woman looks up from her book.

The man takes a sip from his drink.

Then there is only the sound of their looking,

the lapping of lake water, and a call of one bird

then another, cries of joy or warning -

it passes the time to wonder which.

Yesterday Kathie and I spent the afternoon doing what Billy suggests. We sat in two adirondack chairs in the backyard. And we walked around the yard a bit, talking of nothing much, stopping to question the placement of the spirea shrubs, then returning to the chairs for a few pages of something.

Sometimes I wonder:

Is the fourth commandment frivolous?

Then I recognize that I just spent some time wondering.

And think not.

dear trebor,

I wrote to a friend yesterday about always being a Levite. All Israelite artists, engineers, farmers and craftsmen were from the other eleven tribes of Manasseh, Reuben, Judah, Ephraim, etc. But if you were born into the tribe of Levi, you had no choice in the matter of your vocation. Because the Levites refused to worship the golden calf in Exodus 32, they were set apart by God from the other tribes to serve in the temple... burning incense, receiving and slaughtering the Israelite's sacrificial animals and praying.

Rare is it that I retain much content from a book that I've read. I read anyway because I want it to do a deeper, layer-upon-layer soul work in me. But there is one book that has put words on this Levitian pastoral desire within me... Working the Angles by Eugene Peterson. He says that the threefold work of the pastor is found in Reading the Scripture, Prayer and Spiritual Direction.

I mention this because, since stepping away from my daily rhythms three weeks ago and moving toward the back-breaking, blue collar world, I am more deeply realizing the definition of the word "work".  Another way of saying this? I have not worked at prayer (the hardest work that exists!) as I ought to have... not even close.

Augustinian, Benedictine and many other monks call prayer the Opus Dei (Work of God). Seven times a day, every day, every week, every month, every year, they stop what they are doing and communally enter into prayer. And these prayers for the work of God are called, of course, the offices.

Point of all this? It's my work, and I am both anticipating and nervous about entering back into it when the time comes. Yes, I now have a greater reference for work. And yes, planets are continuing the lifelong process of alignment within me with this two-month lesson on prayer. But what I anticipate and am nervous over is this:  I don't want to approach it like a job... I want to live in it with joy!

Like the work of creating a sanctuary in someone's backyard. Like the work of placing color, layer-upon-layer onto a canvas. Like the work of thoughtfully remembering the specific pain of another as I speak to God. Listening to God with the Divine Scriptures, joyfully receiving Divine Friendship from God in prayer, and celebrating the Divine Nature of God over coffee with a friend - these are my offices.

Enough words.
A blue prayer returned to our front porch just this morning with her mate:

dear david,

It was great to see you last night with high schoolers at the camp signup night with Young Life. Kathie and I drove away with an age old feeling of privilege... the one you get from witnessing a moment of God calling His sheep unto Himself. Although we were just there to grill some dogs, I was reminded once again of my heritage.

As you know, I have backed away from all work with Echo Resources for the past three weeks. We are trusting God for two months of other work so that the non-profit's account may build a little surplus, allowing us back into what we've been doing for the past nine years with priests like yourself. And He has supplied. Today I will finish a landscaping job where I was able to create a bit of an outdoor sanctuary.

Here's an arbor leading toward an unfinished section of the backyard.

This work is tapping my ever-present creative juices. I love listening to the land and drawing out what is already there in it. And it is doing great work to my land also, that will resend me more deeply back to you. Back into who I am, to who I was born to be.

I mentioned above how I was reminded of my heritage after being with you last night. To be clear, my heritage is not Young Life. I'm a Levite. Like you I was born into a priestly inheritance. I have never been more sure. True, during this Lenten season I have let go of the daily duties of saturating myself with scripture, prayer and Spiritual direction. But there is an inner cultivation occurring that I don't want to miss (eavesdrop in on tomorrow's letter for more).

The way God arranges and orchestrates funding is nothing more than a curiosity for me. The temptation to "raise funds" so I may continue being a priest for priests is quite large. I'm always a Levite, born into the tribe that is peculiar among the rest. I will always (with shovel in hand or leading a small group) be a priest for God's chosen.

Lastly and for the record, I have never known more gratitude to God and our friends who send us to you. God's peace.

dear whop,

You and I are spending a considerable amount of time with our Monday night group exploring the beauty, mystery and wonder (BMW) of God. It's unnatural but good for me to stretch outside of my reasoning ways in hopes to live in the largeness of our God.

From time to time I get a little Song of Solomon-ish. To tell you the truth, I wish I were more so and more often. I sense God's Spirit being released out of me when I let go, and let myself receive His love. Kathie has encouraged me to write more poetry, which is becoming a window to the BMW. Here's one I thought might leave us with some of that good discomfort.

He stood,

Wet as a mountain.

Her eyes swimming

In the requirement to leave

no shade to the tree,

no berry to the vine,

no song to the bird.

Her child-days bark like

The blue jay under

Constant threat of

Beauty Contamination,

no comb in her hair,

no rose for her breath,

no ears for the fiddle.

Till the Earthen tower

Of his chest cuffed her

Down-sloped gaze into

A detention of Love.

No night for tears.

No sweat for the brow.

No clothes for the body.

dear marc,

There are two quotes colliding in me this morning. I wanted to share them with you.

The first is from my boy, Toby Ziegler, communications director to the President of the United States on the TV series, West Wing. He laments that he doesn't write as well as he did when younger, but adds, "If I didn't write, I couldn't serve him at all."

Toby continues to step into that which he used to champion but now falters in. He stays in the fight to serve his boss. He serves at the pleasure of the president.

Also, I'm reading a book of letters written by saints and other sinners like the two of us, Marc. As I read them it strikes me that they simply wrote. Most did so without ink pens and cute stationary purchased from their local Barnes & Noble... none yet built in 1731 to my knowledge. But in this same year Jean-Pierre de Caussade wrote the following to a nun about self-surrender to God. It halts me.


Our Lord has given me a summary...
of general principles to guide the conduct of your life...

Firstly, a sincere desire to love God entirely and unreservedly is basic.
Secondly, a firm resolve to belong only to God helps you to think only of Him.


                Do you hear the flow? Loving God entirely leads to belonging to God, which                 leads to thinking only of Him. And then de Caussade says,


... in concentrating only of God, it may take you into a great emptiness of spirit and of understanding, which in turn may make you numb of all will and of feelings also... Value however this twofold void, for they make pride and self-love difficult to survive.


When I decided to follow Jesus (or He-in-me decided, or He became irresistible, or I could not not follow, or I was seized by the power of a great affection as Brennan Manning says) this is one of the many things that I did not know, but feared to be true: Small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it. The gate is so small... if you try to wear only a sock, you can't fit. The path is so narrow... even a wedding band will prevent you.

No gods allowed. None.
And this is why we may value the void that comes from being wholly centered on God, it makes my god of pride and self-love difficult to survive.

More disclosure here at the end: I fear this is just a good sermon for me, not my real hope. When I close the laptop in a few seconds, will the above words I wrote become a familiar, self-righteous, wow-man-you-really-GET-it arrogance that is the wide road leading to destruction? This, I believe, is why He invites us to cry mercy. So I do. Will you join me?

Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy.
On me.

dear bo,

What's been the best day of your life?

It's been a long-standing question and can be answered in many ways... happiest day, most surprised by God day, day of the greatest gift ever, day when time stood still, or day when all was right with the world. Well, my best day incorporates all of the above.

As of today I have lived 20,222 days, and that's a lot to choose from! Maybe I'm supposed to say that my best day was the one when I met Christ, or perhaps my wedding day. Great days, they were. Extraordinary ones! But, sorry God and Kathie, my best day ever was June 5, 1983.

That was the day I met you. Almost 30 years ago came the day that a wave of surprise and firsts and overwhelming joy and baseball games and a future-that-I-can't-control came crashing over me.

If it were your brother or sister born on that day, it would've still been the greatest day. Because God was stretching me on that day as never before to that point. And He continues to grow me through you, even as you called Sunday night from Virginia to just check in on me.

dear norris,

When Kathie and I moved back to Knoxville from Asheville nine years ago, you gave me the most personal of gifts... the only other thing I kiss besides people. My bible. It is softer than any bible I've ever known. And it's mine. Thank you.

One of the first things I did was to stick a label on the first page as a reference. It's a way I created of placing me in the Psalms each day of the month. And if I were to ever desire (although it's a bad way to be in poetry) I could read all 150 Psalms in one month. Today, March 4th, gave me Psalm 18-21 to choose from.

It may not make sense to get hooked (why would a fish actually bite a barbed worm when he had the entire lake to freely swim in!) but I believe that is the point of poetry. Let it catch you. Allow a phrase or a word or a sentiment to own you for a moment. Permit the life of another to speak to you. As David did to me this morning, halting me with the first seven words of Psalm 18:

I love You, O Lord, my strength.

I read the Psalms and other poetry as an admission of my hunger. None of the Psalms give answer to any problem I have to solve, no poetry ever will. But if I have a need of Presence in my chaos or Love in my ugliness or Comfort in my lostness, then seven words might just hook me.

I love You, O Lord, my strength.

I read these words and then stopped. These seven words constituted the entire written content of my morning "quiet time". The real quietness began as I bathed in them. Yes, I rested. Like a Sabbath rest.

Well, now is the time to scrape the frost off my windshield, take some Advil and layer up. Time to load the chainsaw, shovel and 4x4's. Time to hop out of the "quiet tub". But I do so with yet another scar from the hook in my mouth. I love You, O Lord, my strength.

dear steve jr.,

I spend a lot of time thinking about casting vision into the lives of people, speaking soul-talk instead of self-talk (as Larry Crabb puts it), being attentive to what lies beneath the fears that we all live with.

And then some dude comes along and casually says something to me that lifts me, lightens me and simply makes me feel like a million dollars! This morning it was a 20-year-old with grease under his fingernails... you know, one of those good north Knoxville boys who wouldn't dream of paying someone else to turn his rotors or clean his fuel injectors.

I had a slow leak in my front passenger tire so I drove to Free Service for a quick fix. When finished I payed my bill while this young buck drove my ride around front. He looked at me and asked, "That your 7.4 liter F250?" Yes, I answer. And here it comes... words that were crafted by a wise soul and fed to a hungry man, words that saw deep to my core, somehow knowing my deepest need of the moment.

Tossing me the keys, he says, "Helluva truck".

I love Saturdays.

dear moldy,

I've had this low-grade running angst in me lately because of my Lenten discipline of blogging. Although it's been grrrrrreat for me, I still seem to be "making myself" post everyday.

But my conversation with a friend helped me this morning,
It goes something like this:


Buddy enters the room stage right, where the Apostle Paul is writing at a small desk by candlelight, although plenty of florescent lights are available...

Buddy: I just ran to out to buy some almond milk for our morning cereal.
Paul: What?
Buddy (with a gentle but slightly louder voice): I said, I just ran to out to buy some almond milk for our morning cereal.
Paul: You picked an almond from a tree to milk it?
Buddy: Well, you can't milk one, you buy it at Krogers.
Paul: Huh?
Buddy (a little louder than last time): I said, you can't milk one, you buy it at Krogers.
Paul (without looking up from his writing): What's a Kroger?
Buddy (increasingly irritated at the age difference between the two. Paul is approaching his 2008th birthday on November 30): It's a grocery, uh... I mean, an indoor market where folks use cash, I mean denarii, to purchase food to drive home to cook for the family.
Paul: Drive?

(Buddy's jaw starts to slowly drop until Paul looks up and says):
Paul: I'm writing a letter to some church friends in another town. You know a lot about what I am trying to communicate and I could use your help...
Buddy (proudly): Sure, what's it about?
Paul: What I want to do, I do not do, but what I hate I do.
Buddy: I hear you, but I've always thought it to be this way - I do only what I want to do, and if I don't want to do something, I don't do it.
Paul: You hear my words with a subtle difference. Buddy, that's your old, dead, false self, the selfish one speaking... and that's where you have your gaze locked, trying (willpower, I think you call it) hard to do the things you ought to do. When you fix your eyes on the present and eternal Jesus, your TRUE self (seeing your true identity in Christ, I think you call it) will rise up and trust Him instead of using resolve and determination
Buddy: I've been telling several friends in their 20's (wrongly, now it seems) that they need to stop being so selfish by doing only what they want to do. But what your saying is, that that approach is more about living a better life than knowing the Better One.
Paul: Yes. Trust Him and you'll see it this way: What I want to do, I do not do, but what I hate I do. And seeing it THIS way, leads us to say Thanks be to God! My willpower does not deliver me... You are my Deliverer!
Buddy: This helps me with my blog for the day.
Paul: Huh?
Buddy: I meant to say, may I borrow your quill? I'd like to write my church friends a letter.