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!

Community through the eyes of a bearded filipino....

It's giving up the biggest world cup soccer game so you can help your brothers in need, along with a little dose of manly stupidity of jumping over raging fires.

It's the attempt of trying to cook your mom's filipino recipe of Chicken Adobo so your house mates can get a small glimpse into your culture and the amazingness you grew up with.

It's people asking simple questions along with things like: "What do you really want to do with your life? What encyclopedia would I find you in? What's your addictions? Where's your heart at?" instead of just questions like "Did you see who got drafted #1 in the NFL draft?"

It's dominating a class full of "competitve by society" INDIVIDUALS in a game of balloon popping with your fellow Lake Housians, and then particially being prophetic in the fact that we didn't completely abliged to the rules of the game, standing together in unison and shouting within the soundproof walls of our mind, "Forget you Brian, and your freaking rules, one winner?! how about 3! (POP)

It's sharing your struggles and short comings with somebody only to be encouraged and find out your not the most messed up, JK!

It's having someone grab the towel off your shoulder to dry dishes when the Mountain of plates that needs washing only seems to get bigger every time you grab a new one to wash.

It's knowing that your being prayed for and feeling the presence of those prayers when you make known something thats of urgency on your heart.

It's an understanding that life is to be shared and not defended.

A little of what I see community to be so far..............

Κάθαρσις

With a fierceness that rivals the titan grasp
Of the Ocean upon the Tide,
Who knows naught but his home in the chill embrace
Where this current must sole reside,

With a fear that has kept such a Tide as this
Bound to darkness of depths unknown,
“For where else” pleads the Sea, “could you ebb and flow
If not staying where you’ve been shown?”

So have we held our hearts in familiar ways
To the pattern of things less divine
Than the breadth and the height that are manifest
In our Maker’s unchanged design.

What would Tide come to be if he broke away
From the waxing and waning that give
The appearance of movement while moving not?
He remembers not how else to live.

If he lift from the sea, would he come undone?
No more Tide would he be, but now Wind:
Very image of Spirit that moves unafraid,
Unbeholden, unbound and unpinned.

So do we, half inspired, half doubting the call,
Take on life unfamiliar and bold,
Free as truly to be as we have been made,
And unmaking our graven mold.

Now take heart, for your heart is the host within
Of a Kingdom, a Love and a Fire
That consumes what is false, ’til we find ourselves faced
With the face of our heart’s true desire.

a few of the things that "THEY TRIED"

Love you robby. (-;

The Madness that is this lovely neighborhood

Over the past week we have watched as an oak tree systematically fell apart into ours and our neighbors yard, ending last night with an injury free fall into our neighbors porch. Always eventful and always somewhere to help.
http://www2.tbo.com/content/2010/jun/16/tree-falls-tampa-house/c_3/#comments

The Divine Artist

Over the past few months we at the Lake House have grown as a community and I myself have developed a deeper understanding of what a relationship with God looks like. Throughout my life I have prayed for my life to BE worship to God. Worship is too often used as a verb, that one may "worship God" but to be a life of worship, to live life in the noun sense is dramatically harder. It requires more of us. We must give our lives over to God that he may develop us into worship beings. We have to let Him hold the paintbrush of our lives, because God is the artist!

I have heard that God is the Divine Architect, the Divine Engineer of creation that set the rules in place, and developed the physics of the universe. I hate that metaphor! It is too cold and inaccurate. I have met many engineers and architects throughout my profession, and they are too often cold and calculating. They are ALWAYS law enforcing....you must stick to the rules or try again. This is not the God I see. I see an artist that paints creation with brush strokes, and sculptures the Earth with His mind (Adam was molded out of clay, Eve chiseled out of bone). His mind is not bound with limits of physics, physics is merely the canvas He chose to paint upon. Our lives are within that canvas, our heart a a piece of the fabric that God paints upon. We always want to control the sculpture, and choose where the chisel is hammered. He will allow us, we have the right to choose our path and say no to the divine artist, just as an man can choose a toddler to paint his portrait over Rembrandt.

It is difficult to choose God to paint our lives. He will point out our imperfections, show us where we stumble. But as any great sculpture, He will smooth out the edges of our lives at the appropriate time. I pray that He may paint the masterpiece of our lives, that He may give us the strength to let go and allow the master to work. It gives me peace to know He holds the colors and we are the canvas of His work.