My God, My Redeemer, My Savior

I suck, I am nothing...and glory to God for that.

My heart has been heavy lately. I have felt weighed down and thought many times to just give up. That maybe this community thing was just me getting caught up in the psych of it all. That I wasn't cut out to pursue God, or at least not as deeply as I desire. That maybe I can just go back to my old life without conviction, without watching and seeing pain all around me, that maybe I can just dance through life without having to carry any burdens. It has affected my attitude towards my community, towards my family, towards myself and towards God....and then He stepped in.

And now I can't stop crying this morning. I felt the glory of God, I felt His awesomeness, his power, his redemption. It was as if a veal was torn and I can see God all around me. I cant think of anything else, and I have so much to do, but I cant think of anything but Him. One of my family members just got back from a mission trip to Nicaragua the other day, a mission trip he wasn't supposed to go on, one that was a coincidence. Even then, he was just supposed to go and help build houses. He has never wanted to go to church, he has never wanted God...but we prayed.

I asked him how his trip went this morning and I saw God. I saw the light, I saw Jesus in His face. I saw the excitement of a new believer, with all the questions of a new believer. The hows and the whats and the whys. I heard him talk about the feelings and the tinglings, the overwhelming that comes with just being in the presence of the Spirit, the rush of the spirits waves crashing on our soul. I saw redemption and it shed away the rust that had encompassed my heart. I was reminded how mighty my God is, how much love my God has, and how my God never stops trying. I saw Christ save, I see Him saving still, and I can't stop crying. God has shown himself to both of us...to him through the poor and the good, and to me through him. Glory to God...He is mighty to save!!!

let us pray

In the face of danger and threats,

grant us peace.

In the face of insults and lies against us,

grant us peace.

When we are tempted with anger,

grant us peace.

When we cannot see You,

grant us peace.

When we do not know if You can hear us,

grant us peace.

When those around us fall to pieces,

grant us peace.

In all things, in all places, in every pain,

grant us peace.

I've seen life spring up through cracks in the concrete

We are situated on Nebraska Ave. & Lake. Just a block from one of the last remaining 'post war style' housing projects in Tampa. Growing up, before I even knew what Nebraska Avenue was, we used it as an insult in school. Even if I didn't know the actual street, I knew it a a symbol that meant prostitution & addiction. Now it is the neighborhood that I live in and it means beauty & pain, diversity and unity, the need for and the presence of the kingdom of God.
It is forgotten and abandon by the empire that is our American way of life. Our house is sandwiched between a condemned home that is boarded up and a demolished house that was crushed by a tree. Behind us, across the alley, is another vacant home that used to house men in recovery from alcoholism. Here we are in the middle of this abandon corner planting seeds of okra, cucumbers, love, peace, hospitality, and prayers for the kingdom to come. This is what Peter Maurin and Dorothy Day modeled as direct action. In a world that preaches individuality & privacy, we are crammed into a small house living in full view of each other & dependent on one another;in a world that teaches consumerism & materialism, we are having discussions and opportunities to share and give and break the chains that have been ours since childhood; in a world that ignores the poor and doesn't honor their humanity, we have the homeless over constantly for company or dinner or whatever, we know their names, we share their burdens, and we have them as our friends. This action is not so much to our credit as to our salvation. The poor are our teachers; the community, our discipline; the streets, our desert; and this house, our Eden.

Let's be clear:

I have no credentials, no reputation to precede me or give the impression of authority.

I am not holy enough to teach truth over and against the lies we tell ourselves and each other.

I am not wise, experienced or charismatic enough to lead people back to who they are, to be the person God made in his image.

Still he speaks to them as I sit and listen to their stories.

Glory to God in all things.

Just Sitting There

I have been reading Dorothy Day's autobiography entitled The Long Loneliness. It is a privilege to just bask in the reflections of a life so well spent. Yet, in all that she accomplished and all that she stood for she sums up her decades of ministry in the postscript of her book like this:

“We were just sitting there talking when Peter Maurin came in.

We were just sitting there talking when lines of people began to form, saying, “We need bread.” We could not say, “Go, be thou filled.” If there were six small loaves and a few fishes, we had to divide them. There was always bread.

We were just sitting there talking and people moved in on us. Let those who can take it, take it. Some moved out and that made room for more. And somehow the walls expanded.

We were just sitting there talking and someone said, “Let’s all go live on a farm.” It was as casual as all that, I often think. It just came about. It just happened.

I found myself, a barren woman, the joyful mother of children. It is not easy always to be joyful, to keep in mind the duty of delight.

The most significant thing about The Catholic Worker is poverty, some say.

The most significant thing is community, others say. We are not alone any more.

But the final word is love. At times it has been, in the words of Father Zossima, a harsh and dreadful thing, and our very faith in love has been tried through fire.

We cannot love God unless we love each other, and to love we must know each other. We know Him in the breaking of bread, and we know each other in the breaking of bread, and we are not alone any more. Heaven is a banquet and life is a banquet, too, even with a crust, where there is companionship.

We have all known the long loneliness and we have learned that the only solution is love and that love comes with community.

It all happened while we sat there talking, and it is still going on.”

I am encouraged and can't wait to see what God might do where we are sitting and who we are sittin with.

Conscious Party Confessions

Give them a mic, give them a stage and a spotlight, just give them a voice. Give them a voice and they will correct you, inspire you, humor you, teach you, bless you, challenge you, and thank you. Some with amazing skill, some raw passion, sometimes drunken confession, sometimes sober, youth sing to the aged, elders give wisdom to adolescence, and all give Glory to God. The communal consciousness connects, conspires, and communes. God is present, honored, and we recognize that we are with family and share, sing, cry, confess, and enjoy the party that really is a small taste of the kingdom of God.

GETTIN' CONSCIOUS!