The endless stream of notifications will always be there. Tonight I’m choosing to be with people I love instead. #adventphoto #flood
Take a moment to savor something. A book. A person. A beverage. Exist only in that moment. #adventphoto #time
I’m going to do this, methinks. (Ignore the “rethink church” nonsense. Let’s rethink ourselves and let church be what it is).
New bloggy thing. God is so damn inefficient. http://pastorinprocess.tumblr.com/post/67383887469/things-ive-learned-god-is-so-damn-inefficient
I looked into her eyes and saw the tears as she said “I’m sorry.” Something healed inside me that has been broken for a while. She is a pastor in the church that refuses me communion for being gay. Four months and twenty days ago, we had a brief and heated text exchange. Four months and twenty days later, we reconnected. My pride didn’t let me contact her before that because my last text had been “I’m sorry.” I had congratulated myself on being so mature and then went to sulk and lick my wounds. She finally had the maturity I lacked to reestablish contact and we had a moment that only God could facilitate where we heard each other, truly heard each other, for the first time in a very long time. That relationship will continue.
They twisted in their seats and looked back at me in the dark backseat of their car and with broken voices said “You have been a light in this world, please don’t ever snuff out that light.” They were responding to the realization that I had almost completed my suicide plan the month before. Fourteen months earlier I had told my parents not to contact me until I could heal from the pain that they had caused me as a child. They respected my wishes and now I welled up with tears because I heard them, really heard them, for the first time in a long time. That relationship continued, only better.
Six months after running away from my problems to Chicago, I laid on my bed weeping after a boy broke my heart and I heard God say to go back to Denver. “You can’t run forever. It’s time to go back and move toward reconciliation with the people you love,” I sensed him saying. So, I slunk back to Denver with my metaphorical tail between my legs and waited for the reconciliation conversations to happen. And I waited. And I waited. And slowly they happened. A glass of wine with a beautiful youth leader I had recruited and believed in. A cup of coffee with a former mentor. A lunch with an old Seminary friend. Each of these happened with weeks and months in-between and I got mad because everything was supposed to fall into place quickly when I moved back! But, God just reminded me to calm down and let him work. So I did. And relationships that I thought were severed forever finally reignited and they continued.
Don’t get me wrong. These are not the dramatic, music-accompanied, huggy reconciliations that you get at the end of movies. These are the gritty you-hurt-me-but-let’s-talk conversations where both sides are ideologically miles from each other and yet somehow joined at the heart in the most painful way. The conversations with many unspoken and a few spoken f***-words. The kind of conversations that leave me exhausted and hopeful because I know the relationship will continue, only better.
There are still many of these conversations on the horizon and God, in his damn plodding slowness, is making them happen one at a time. He doesn’t seem to be in a hurry and that pisses me off. But, the ride is exciting.