Yes, I am still taking a break from the blog...but I needed to post this.
I'm standing in my bathroom crying, good tears, sweet tears, tears of a good God.
I met with Madame Bataille today and at some point during our 2 1/2 hours together I mentioned my French family the Prevotes. She asked if I went to church with them. I said, "Oh, no, they're not practicing or believing or anything. But I pray for them and an opportunity..." Madame began recounting a Catholic practice of how between a certain set of days near Easter, because of a saint's vision, they commit to praying for all those who are far from Jesus, that he would move and make himself known to them. She gave me many more details than this and there is an exact name and I'll let you know later. But then she said the most meaningful thing.
"If you give me their names, I will be sure to pray for them during these days, that they believe."
And now I'm in tears again. And I almost was then. She offered to pray for them, for my Prevotes, for my French family. I can't even type or see the keyboard........
That's all.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
"Slow Month"
This was supposed to be posted Sunday; then “slow month February” took over and I never finished it…
I recently wrote in my monthly supporter update newsletter that February looked to be a slow month. Funny thing about slow months. I don’t really do them. I am practically incapable. Walked in about 45 minutes ago from church and lunch afterward with the young adults there. I’m having my mid-afternoon coffee and knocking out calls for planning this week and some emails before heading out to meet Heather for a walk in the forest before she leaves tomorrow definitively for the states. Heather is a student I met through GBU and church and although our schedules are very different, we have found time to hang out and it has been refreshing for both of us to both practice French with native English-speakers and break into English when it just became too much…and we just needed a friend who understood. That said, last week was full between Festival at L’Arche, a doctor’s visit to Beauvais (a city one hour west of Compiegne) for my official “you can stay in France” paperwork, regular hours at L’Arche, a lunch newly added to my weekly agenda with L’Arche assistants, French tutoring, hanging out with Heather and other international students stuck here during the vacation for Friday night dinner…etc, etc.
What do I have prevu (literally, “pre-seen” or planned) for this week? Well, after a few phone calls Xue and I are having lunch Friday, I’m meeting up with one of the younger L’Arche assistants for coffee tomorrow, will be hosting Francois and Joel for our JAO planning meeting Tuesday night, having lunch with L’Arche assistants again as well as my French tutoring Thursday, hanging out with Joy McAuley and kids Thursday night while Thad is out of town, and headed back to Touquet with the Prevotes for the weekend. They have requested I prepare another American brunch like I did over Christmas break because the kids can’t stop talking about it and want a “refaire” (redo). Somewhere in here I need to deal with finances, taxes, studies, and look ahead to a few details that need to get determined for March and April. Although February is less than half over and I am in no mood to rush, it’s flying fast and I can hardly believe it. Besides what I have written, here’s a couple of other things in closing I want to share.
Having not done much house-keeping, grocery shopping, or laundry in a couple of weeks, Saturday was marked out to be so. I had opted to walk to market rather than bike because I like to vary my mode of transportation within the week plus it has felt like spring all week and I wanted to be outside on foot for as much of my moving about yesterday as possible (which was a bit considering my multiple trips to hauling to market, grocery store, laundry, etc.). I was very glad I had because as I was leaving centre ville after market I ran into Valerie from Moulin also on foot. Valerie is an Irishwoman who has worked with L’Arche for what I gather has been 10-15 years. Of all the people I have met and encountered here, she above most has been a gift and steady encouragement. We work well together and while she is introverted and I am extraverted, somehow I find us a bit similar. Our senses of beauty, how she works with people at L’Arche and how I seek to emulate, our need for space and community, in all I have greatly appreciated her.
But here’s where I’m going to break it down and just get personal. If lately you have read my blogs you’ll notice I the person Jennifer am doing stinkingly well here in the milieu of relationships and ministry. This fits well with what I recently wrote a friend back home: “Too often I think Christians especially don't let themselves personally exist (does this make sense?) and just go about what they know they are to be doing without doing the hard personal work that equips us for an outward life. I am continually with each new season convinced that my outward ministry and living can only be as effective and infused by the Holy Spirit as is my inward life; which requires time and attention and not feeling guilt about it either.” That said, it only seems thus fitting to me that if outwardly God is drawing me to people, inwardly he is giving me deep satisfaction and joy in himself and others. What does this have to do with Valerie? Well, we are both single women remarkably content and really even more so than that, convinced that God has called and is using us as we are for his purposes. As she so wonderfully said, “If my family had had their way, I would definitely have been married by now. But I just knew I was called to something else.” Thank you. No, I have not personally written off marriage and family (as a wise mentor once said, it doesn’t matter what you’re called to later but what you are called to as you are now), but I’m going to be the no holds back, infamous for my opinions Jennifer here: I have encountered a number of evangelical Christians who cannot fathom my being content, my being satisfied, my being found and created by God quite whole and remarkable alone, my not longing and weeping at night for husband and babies. In fact, I have had a couple encounters where I have been made to feel that something must indeed be terribly wrong with me as I am. (of course, something is always wrong with us; we are indeed fallen, broken little things; however…) As I told Valerie, “sometimes it’s hard, it’s like they don’t really want me to be content, you know, they just can’t get what’s so full and joyful about my life, like I’m missing something.” (geez, and I’m young, makes me really excited for 30!) While she has had to deal with family, Valerie lives in both the community of L’Arche where many single folks serve and are welcomed and the Catholic community, full of nuns and priests whose lives are counted as quite full and worthy. Finding that space in evangelical Christendom, well, um, it’s frustrating and at times quite frankly, angering. We continued our discussion on this topic along varying degrees—talking about coming and going alone from our apartments, taking care of all aspects of life including finances, maintenance, etc, etc., how we have to be extra-cautious as English-speakers (and especially me as an American, she noted) in France around men—and my soul was buoyed up to no end as I practically skipped the rest of the way home. Thank you, God, I thought for the women he has placed into each stage of my life who encourage me with their learned wisdom and examples. Sometimes all I need is to hear another person’s story at which I can rejoice at the seemingly inexplicable full pleasure of it all.
Please hear me and do not get me wrong. I value family and marriage and all it entails and I support any man’s or woman’s decision to live according to the serious commitments they require. But I also support and understand that in fact callings besides family and marriage exist which require the same seriousness of commitment. Perhaps to our detriment many have elevated the sacred institutions of marriage and family in a way that doesn’t allow room for, well, me and Valerie and our like. I get a serious kick out of seeing how God uses me, and in boldness and I hope not overconfidence, I can honestly say at this stage of my life I have made choices in ways I live according to where the Holy Spirit leads that have indeed required significant commitment. And I have no wedding band and no babies. I guess, in a sense, this is a post not just for me but for the many other men and women who are pitied or derided for “lacking,” but as I will use a movie line from I don’t know where, “In what way lacking?” As Paul writes, I lack for nothing.
Moving on…This past week has been one I will look back and call a “week of vision.” Without getting into all the details, it has been a week where in a sense I have seen God peel hindrances off my eyes to look towards possibilities, potential, visions. And it is freaking awesome!!! As I met new students, L’Arche assistants, ran into folks in the road or at market, met new neighbors, I sense I have been given “new eyes to see.” Like, those international students, they’re going to get a dinner invite. And L’Arche assistants, having coffee with one and Sunday afternoons will be increasingly wonderful times for walks in the forest with a group, so I think I’ll be calling up a foyer (house) or two to arrange that. Likewise, when I walk around town, sometimes I put in my ipod, really because speaking French all the time is exhausting and I do truly want to look unavailable to chat. Except that, I am missing opportunities; so I’ve opted to leave the ipod at home. Since then I’ve run into several folks and was able to help a neighbor. I am also focusing my prayers on France and trying to get a sense of what God is and would do here…which can’t help but be vision-giving. He has been faithful to lead me to listen more and talk less (truly a great feat, even for Lord Almighty) and I am pumped to continue. As well, I stumbled upon Romans 9-10 and well, that’s just a wonderful set of passages and actually fits well with what I’m learning in Isaiah. The interplay between Jew and Gentile in Romans complements so beautifully the movement of Yahweh God between nations in Isaiah. Every time I press God with questions, he returns singularly himself. Oh, and another thing, received some Biblical interpretation materials in French that I’m sifting through along with some English books to put together a self-study packet for one of GBU’s students who left for the semester. This too requires vision (and time!) and I pray over what to highlight and what to leave out.
Writing this Tuesday night before posting, finally…
It’s 11:45pm, my desk is an absolute disaster because at last count there are 13 books on it and numerous tumbling piles of important stacks of papers that I need to tend to and clear before I leave for Touquet! Monday is Olivia’s birthday and I get to be with the family. Also tumbling over my apartment are remnants of the meal shared with Francois and Joel. They left about 11pm and I blame myself entirely--I served a 5 course meal. Rarely do I keep bedtimes in mind when planning for hosting others. When I apologized for the cheese platter, that there were not proper choices of cheeses (i.e., variety and 5 cheese families represented), they looked at me and said, “So you take this French culture thing seriously, no?” Which means, yes. ☺ Anyway, our next JAO will be March 29th, which gives me time to prepare to do the teaching! I know, what?! But Francois asked if I would and after a series of questions to insure that he wanted me to and was not just being nice, I said, as long as you’re not afraid, I’m up for it. So!!! You can start praying NOW for March 29th. Fortunately we shifted around other responsibilities so all I have to do is prepare and get the hospitality items together. I’m going to work with my French tutor over the course of a couple of weeks after I study and write to get it all in proper, working, understandable French.
And a friendly FYI, you may not hear from me for a while. Again, “slow month” not really working out to be so and I think I might be overwhelmed. I have so much always I want to write and share and I hope you have a sense at least of what I’m involved with this year. But, trying to keep expectations real and manageable and I hope you will understand.
I recently wrote in my monthly supporter update newsletter that February looked to be a slow month. Funny thing about slow months. I don’t really do them. I am practically incapable. Walked in about 45 minutes ago from church and lunch afterward with the young adults there. I’m having my mid-afternoon coffee and knocking out calls for planning this week and some emails before heading out to meet Heather for a walk in the forest before she leaves tomorrow definitively for the states. Heather is a student I met through GBU and church and although our schedules are very different, we have found time to hang out and it has been refreshing for both of us to both practice French with native English-speakers and break into English when it just became too much…and we just needed a friend who understood. That said, last week was full between Festival at L’Arche, a doctor’s visit to Beauvais (a city one hour west of Compiegne) for my official “you can stay in France” paperwork, regular hours at L’Arche, a lunch newly added to my weekly agenda with L’Arche assistants, French tutoring, hanging out with Heather and other international students stuck here during the vacation for Friday night dinner…etc, etc.
What do I have prevu (literally, “pre-seen” or planned) for this week? Well, after a few phone calls Xue and I are having lunch Friday, I’m meeting up with one of the younger L’Arche assistants for coffee tomorrow, will be hosting Francois and Joel for our JAO planning meeting Tuesday night, having lunch with L’Arche assistants again as well as my French tutoring Thursday, hanging out with Joy McAuley and kids Thursday night while Thad is out of town, and headed back to Touquet with the Prevotes for the weekend. They have requested I prepare another American brunch like I did over Christmas break because the kids can’t stop talking about it and want a “refaire” (redo). Somewhere in here I need to deal with finances, taxes, studies, and look ahead to a few details that need to get determined for March and April. Although February is less than half over and I am in no mood to rush, it’s flying fast and I can hardly believe it. Besides what I have written, here’s a couple of other things in closing I want to share.
Having not done much house-keeping, grocery shopping, or laundry in a couple of weeks, Saturday was marked out to be so. I had opted to walk to market rather than bike because I like to vary my mode of transportation within the week plus it has felt like spring all week and I wanted to be outside on foot for as much of my moving about yesterday as possible (which was a bit considering my multiple trips to hauling to market, grocery store, laundry, etc.). I was very glad I had because as I was leaving centre ville after market I ran into Valerie from Moulin also on foot. Valerie is an Irishwoman who has worked with L’Arche for what I gather has been 10-15 years. Of all the people I have met and encountered here, she above most has been a gift and steady encouragement. We work well together and while she is introverted and I am extraverted, somehow I find us a bit similar. Our senses of beauty, how she works with people at L’Arche and how I seek to emulate, our need for space and community, in all I have greatly appreciated her.
But here’s where I’m going to break it down and just get personal. If lately you have read my blogs you’ll notice I the person Jennifer am doing stinkingly well here in the milieu of relationships and ministry. This fits well with what I recently wrote a friend back home: “Too often I think Christians especially don't let themselves personally exist (does this make sense?) and just go about what they know they are to be doing without doing the hard personal work that equips us for an outward life. I am continually with each new season convinced that my outward ministry and living can only be as effective and infused by the Holy Spirit as is my inward life; which requires time and attention and not feeling guilt about it either.” That said, it only seems thus fitting to me that if outwardly God is drawing me to people, inwardly he is giving me deep satisfaction and joy in himself and others. What does this have to do with Valerie? Well, we are both single women remarkably content and really even more so than that, convinced that God has called and is using us as we are for his purposes. As she so wonderfully said, “If my family had had their way, I would definitely have been married by now. But I just knew I was called to something else.” Thank you. No, I have not personally written off marriage and family (as a wise mentor once said, it doesn’t matter what you’re called to later but what you are called to as you are now), but I’m going to be the no holds back, infamous for my opinions Jennifer here: I have encountered a number of evangelical Christians who cannot fathom my being content, my being satisfied, my being found and created by God quite whole and remarkable alone, my not longing and weeping at night for husband and babies. In fact, I have had a couple encounters where I have been made to feel that something must indeed be terribly wrong with me as I am. (of course, something is always wrong with us; we are indeed fallen, broken little things; however…) As I told Valerie, “sometimes it’s hard, it’s like they don’t really want me to be content, you know, they just can’t get what’s so full and joyful about my life, like I’m missing something.” (geez, and I’m young, makes me really excited for 30!) While she has had to deal with family, Valerie lives in both the community of L’Arche where many single folks serve and are welcomed and the Catholic community, full of nuns and priests whose lives are counted as quite full and worthy. Finding that space in evangelical Christendom, well, um, it’s frustrating and at times quite frankly, angering. We continued our discussion on this topic along varying degrees—talking about coming and going alone from our apartments, taking care of all aspects of life including finances, maintenance, etc, etc., how we have to be extra-cautious as English-speakers (and especially me as an American, she noted) in France around men—and my soul was buoyed up to no end as I practically skipped the rest of the way home. Thank you, God, I thought for the women he has placed into each stage of my life who encourage me with their learned wisdom and examples. Sometimes all I need is to hear another person’s story at which I can rejoice at the seemingly inexplicable full pleasure of it all.
Please hear me and do not get me wrong. I value family and marriage and all it entails and I support any man’s or woman’s decision to live according to the serious commitments they require. But I also support and understand that in fact callings besides family and marriage exist which require the same seriousness of commitment. Perhaps to our detriment many have elevated the sacred institutions of marriage and family in a way that doesn’t allow room for, well, me and Valerie and our like. I get a serious kick out of seeing how God uses me, and in boldness and I hope not overconfidence, I can honestly say at this stage of my life I have made choices in ways I live according to where the Holy Spirit leads that have indeed required significant commitment. And I have no wedding band and no babies. I guess, in a sense, this is a post not just for me but for the many other men and women who are pitied or derided for “lacking,” but as I will use a movie line from I don’t know where, “In what way lacking?” As Paul writes, I lack for nothing.
Moving on…This past week has been one I will look back and call a “week of vision.” Without getting into all the details, it has been a week where in a sense I have seen God peel hindrances off my eyes to look towards possibilities, potential, visions. And it is freaking awesome!!! As I met new students, L’Arche assistants, ran into folks in the road or at market, met new neighbors, I sense I have been given “new eyes to see.” Like, those international students, they’re going to get a dinner invite. And L’Arche assistants, having coffee with one and Sunday afternoons will be increasingly wonderful times for walks in the forest with a group, so I think I’ll be calling up a foyer (house) or two to arrange that. Likewise, when I walk around town, sometimes I put in my ipod, really because speaking French all the time is exhausting and I do truly want to look unavailable to chat. Except that, I am missing opportunities; so I’ve opted to leave the ipod at home. Since then I’ve run into several folks and was able to help a neighbor. I am also focusing my prayers on France and trying to get a sense of what God is and would do here…which can’t help but be vision-giving. He has been faithful to lead me to listen more and talk less (truly a great feat, even for Lord Almighty) and I am pumped to continue. As well, I stumbled upon Romans 9-10 and well, that’s just a wonderful set of passages and actually fits well with what I’m learning in Isaiah. The interplay between Jew and Gentile in Romans complements so beautifully the movement of Yahweh God between nations in Isaiah. Every time I press God with questions, he returns singularly himself. Oh, and another thing, received some Biblical interpretation materials in French that I’m sifting through along with some English books to put together a self-study packet for one of GBU’s students who left for the semester. This too requires vision (and time!) and I pray over what to highlight and what to leave out.
Writing this Tuesday night before posting, finally…
It’s 11:45pm, my desk is an absolute disaster because at last count there are 13 books on it and numerous tumbling piles of important stacks of papers that I need to tend to and clear before I leave for Touquet! Monday is Olivia’s birthday and I get to be with the family. Also tumbling over my apartment are remnants of the meal shared with Francois and Joel. They left about 11pm and I blame myself entirely--I served a 5 course meal. Rarely do I keep bedtimes in mind when planning for hosting others. When I apologized for the cheese platter, that there were not proper choices of cheeses (i.e., variety and 5 cheese families represented), they looked at me and said, “So you take this French culture thing seriously, no?” Which means, yes. ☺ Anyway, our next JAO will be March 29th, which gives me time to prepare to do the teaching! I know, what?! But Francois asked if I would and after a series of questions to insure that he wanted me to and was not just being nice, I said, as long as you’re not afraid, I’m up for it. So!!! You can start praying NOW for March 29th. Fortunately we shifted around other responsibilities so all I have to do is prepare and get the hospitality items together. I’m going to work with my French tutor over the course of a couple of weeks after I study and write to get it all in proper, working, understandable French.
And a friendly FYI, you may not hear from me for a while. Again, “slow month” not really working out to be so and I think I might be overwhelmed. I have so much always I want to write and share and I hope you have a sense at least of what I’m involved with this year. But, trying to keep expectations real and manageable and I hope you will understand.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Dancing and Biking into Lent, L'Arche-style
My how times change. Last year I spent the eve before Ash Wednesday, Festival/Carnival/Mardi Gras depending where you live, enjoying a social ballroom dance class with some of my closest Chi-town friends. We then joined others for cocktails and appetizers at the very happening Carnivale known for its Latin fusion cuisine and hopping events. It was a lovely evening, made lovelier by the fact that most of us were Wheaton grads and our idea of “wild” is raucous political and theological banter over wine or coffee given the hour. This particular night we indulged in overpriced cocktails and yummy appetizers.
Tonight, I passed another sort of lovely Festival evening, again dancing plus eating beignets, but this time at L’Arche, in the midst of people dressed up in costumes made of I don’t know what. No pretense, no style, all fun. And as I helped twirl Yolande in her wheelchair and aided Dalila in dancing, I couldn’t help but realize the extremes of my dancing life over the mere last three years. Some of my favorite moments in D.C. were spent at karaoke and dance parties at Shalom House. We became a bit known among SOME’s houses during that year for the karaoke parties, and as a resident and friend later shared, “That was the first time I’ve ever had fun without alcohol. I didn’t know I could do that.” Huh, makes you stop to think a bit. Then last year, social ballroom lessons with friends, dinner out at Greek restaurants in the neighborhood before wherein the finer points of what it means to be an “evangelical” for our generation or someone’s latest ecclesiastical crisis (I kid you not.) were discussed. And now this year, February 5, 2008, Festival at L’Arche as only a motley crew of loved and loving people can enjoy.
Although it was rainy earlier today, tonight it cleared and as I road my bike home, I peddled slowly, breathing in the wet fresh air. I coasted along the street which leads to my apartment complex and did what I most love to do on a bike under the cover of night and empty streets. I flung my legs out on each side in the air and swung them back and forth and up. I slid into my driveway, but not ready to stop just yet, I flew in a circle around the plaza, legs flung again. I lovingly locked up my bike and whistled “La Vie en Rose” as I rambled up to my apartment. At one point I even skipped. Standing on my balcony a few minutes later, I looked out over singly lit windows in Compiegne apartments. I turned around and gazed back into mine darkened, shadows dancing in the play between my stove light and wind blown trees limbs. My apartment after one day of not being picked up in fragments testifies my life—an orange for dinner left uneaten on the counter; my tumbling pile of Bible, journal, and books I’m in the middle of on my bed; my unmarked voting ballot on my desk; the announcement for GBU’s national congress that I need to send in lying on my floor; a scarf flung; cards sent in love tacked to my wall and some fallen on the floor; plants dead and dying because I lack the green thumb required to keep an ivy alive!
I live here yet I live out there too, where there’s dancing and laughter and joy immeasurable. Where people are worth something simply because they are. Where students’ lives are not simply marked off by their days of studies but by their inquiries into how to know God. Where friends and family matter so much you wake up early and stay up late to make phone calls happen. Where you learn to laugh in another language despite missing the details of why you do. Where I learn what it means to worship the God of Isaiah, who judged and redeemed all nations because of great jealousy and great love and great affinity for justice and righteousness and holiness. Where I try to listen for what God is doing and would do in France and in this world. Where I enter into facing my own need in the midst of having few resources to meet them, save for the embrace and love of my dear brother Jesus and ever-present father God.
It’s a good world, here and there—Chicago, D.C., Compiegne, friends, L’Arche, Shalom, GBU, family—and tonight my soul is prepared for Lent. Forty days in the desert is supposed to be hard, but for some reason tonight, dancing for the first time since August, riding freely on my bike down unimpeded streets, God draws near in this invitation into wandering, into learning to thirst and hunger and be replenished beyond means of how we reason we should be.
I think I am overwhelmed at the gift of my life. I often am and before I die, I’m sure I will say this a million times--how do I get to live this? Jesus is near and dear to me and he makes each moment so real and alive, I can feel him in it. Perhaps I and we want to contain Jesus to specific moments where he is preached, wherein quantifiable results of his living and dying and living again can be counted. And we are right to seek after and work for those. But it is also right, I think, to see Jesus elsewhere. To enjoy an evening on your balcony in his name. To fly home on an old bike singing the praises of his nearness. To dance with others during an evening of indulgence, lavishly dipping one’s self into his joy over such magnificent creations. Wouldn’t he want us, as we enter the desert, to know that his presence encompasses our every passing moment?
Tonight, I passed another sort of lovely Festival evening, again dancing plus eating beignets, but this time at L’Arche, in the midst of people dressed up in costumes made of I don’t know what. No pretense, no style, all fun. And as I helped twirl Yolande in her wheelchair and aided Dalila in dancing, I couldn’t help but realize the extremes of my dancing life over the mere last three years. Some of my favorite moments in D.C. were spent at karaoke and dance parties at Shalom House. We became a bit known among SOME’s houses during that year for the karaoke parties, and as a resident and friend later shared, “That was the first time I’ve ever had fun without alcohol. I didn’t know I could do that.” Huh, makes you stop to think a bit. Then last year, social ballroom lessons with friends, dinner out at Greek restaurants in the neighborhood before wherein the finer points of what it means to be an “evangelical” for our generation or someone’s latest ecclesiastical crisis (I kid you not.) were discussed. And now this year, February 5, 2008, Festival at L’Arche as only a motley crew of loved and loving people can enjoy.
Although it was rainy earlier today, tonight it cleared and as I road my bike home, I peddled slowly, breathing in the wet fresh air. I coasted along the street which leads to my apartment complex and did what I most love to do on a bike under the cover of night and empty streets. I flung my legs out on each side in the air and swung them back and forth and up. I slid into my driveway, but not ready to stop just yet, I flew in a circle around the plaza, legs flung again. I lovingly locked up my bike and whistled “La Vie en Rose” as I rambled up to my apartment. At one point I even skipped. Standing on my balcony a few minutes later, I looked out over singly lit windows in Compiegne apartments. I turned around and gazed back into mine darkened, shadows dancing in the play between my stove light and wind blown trees limbs. My apartment after one day of not being picked up in fragments testifies my life—an orange for dinner left uneaten on the counter; my tumbling pile of Bible, journal, and books I’m in the middle of on my bed; my unmarked voting ballot on my desk; the announcement for GBU’s national congress that I need to send in lying on my floor; a scarf flung; cards sent in love tacked to my wall and some fallen on the floor; plants dead and dying because I lack the green thumb required to keep an ivy alive!
I live here yet I live out there too, where there’s dancing and laughter and joy immeasurable. Where people are worth something simply because they are. Where students’ lives are not simply marked off by their days of studies but by their inquiries into how to know God. Where friends and family matter so much you wake up early and stay up late to make phone calls happen. Where you learn to laugh in another language despite missing the details of why you do. Where I learn what it means to worship the God of Isaiah, who judged and redeemed all nations because of great jealousy and great love and great affinity for justice and righteousness and holiness. Where I try to listen for what God is doing and would do in France and in this world. Where I enter into facing my own need in the midst of having few resources to meet them, save for the embrace and love of my dear brother Jesus and ever-present father God.
It’s a good world, here and there—Chicago, D.C., Compiegne, friends, L’Arche, Shalom, GBU, family—and tonight my soul is prepared for Lent. Forty days in the desert is supposed to be hard, but for some reason tonight, dancing for the first time since August, riding freely on my bike down unimpeded streets, God draws near in this invitation into wandering, into learning to thirst and hunger and be replenished beyond means of how we reason we should be.
I think I am overwhelmed at the gift of my life. I often am and before I die, I’m sure I will say this a million times--how do I get to live this? Jesus is near and dear to me and he makes each moment so real and alive, I can feel him in it. Perhaps I and we want to contain Jesus to specific moments where he is preached, wherein quantifiable results of his living and dying and living again can be counted. And we are right to seek after and work for those. But it is also right, I think, to see Jesus elsewhere. To enjoy an evening on your balcony in his name. To fly home on an old bike singing the praises of his nearness. To dance with others during an evening of indulgence, lavishly dipping one’s self into his joy over such magnificent creations. Wouldn’t he want us, as we enter the desert, to know that his presence encompasses our every passing moment?
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