His Vigorous Heart

I don’t know what the heck is wrong with me. I’m currently on my  [technically]  second job since deciding to step down from a ministry position at my dream organization. (The first lasted exactly 2 nightmarish graveyard shifts at 3am for a corporate dystopian warehouse where I had been hired to fulfill a completely different position.) The second is a perfectly fine position at a grocery store deli, working 8 hours a day and making the biggest paycheck of my life, cutting meats and cheeses and being friendly to customers. And I hate it. Because I don’t give a flying fuck about any of it. (Sorry about the language. Fair warning: there's more of it.) When I worked at OneLife (or any of the ministries and non-profits I've been involved with for that matter), I was frustrated by the financial situation I was in. I had food and housing provided, which was an incredible gift that's easy to overlook, but apart from that I was making pennies in a monthly stipend. And like, I get i...

Grace: (n) : The free and unmerited favor of God Can we talk about grace for a second? I feel like this has been the year that this concept has been thrown wide open for me, and it’s absolutely blowing me away. Grace isn’t conditional. That might seem obvious, because it’s in the very definition of the term, but somehow it’s sneaked into our doctrinal understandings that we somehow have to earn it. As if there was something we could do to make ourselves worthy of God’s goodness and love and compassion (and even more insidiously, as if we were UN worthy of it in the first place). (Yes, sin exists. Yes, we are capable of great evil. I’m not denying that. Anyone who looks at humans can tell that we are clearly broken in the ways we perpetuate pain and chaos in the world. But the story of creation doesn’t begin in chapter 3 of Genesis; it begins in chapters 1 and 2, where God creates women and men in His own image and calls them good. No matter how much mud and filth we roll around ...

There is a very thin crack between the worlds, and I always seem to find myself stuck at the bottom of it, wedged between its narrow walls, stuck between a rock and the proverbial hard place. Once again, the world has chewed me up and spit me out. Once again, its system has allowed me to somehow slip through the gaps and fall through the cracks, forgotten, unnoticed; The Crack Between the Worlds, my forever home. Maybe we all live here, or have at least visited it a couple of times. Maybe we don’t like to talk about it. Maybe we’re all too uncomfortable with the idea to even admit it to ourselves, even in the privacy of our own souls. Or maybe I’m just different. Unique. ...Broken. But from my vantage point in this chasm so often accompanied by loneliness and despair and the shadow of death, I can see the outlines of two very distinct cities on the clifftops above me. To one side is the world we’re all familiar with, full of jobs and cell phones and money and Netflix and...