our life outside the garden

so strange
what we lost
that day
not like
what we found
so familiar
these fig-leaf burdens
carried on crooked backs
that seem straight
for so long
staring at the ground
that feels like home
makes it hard to turn around
toward what we lost
that day
so strange

Blessed Frustration

I am learning again the importance of frustration—the importance of failure and disappointment. It is the way God pursues us.

In one of my classes last week, my professor was discussing the curses in Genesis 3 after the fall. He spoke about how ultimately the curses are God’s way of bringing us back to Himself by frustrating our desires and pursuits. He explained that as corrupted people, without that frustration, we would continue in our corruption without ever turning to God. He pointed us to Romans 8:20-21, “For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but BY THE WILL OF THE ONE WHO SUBJECTED IT, IN HOPE that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the glorious freedom of the children of God.” Our freedom comes through surrender to God, and our surrender comes through frustration.

I play games with God just like I play games in my human relationship—trying to manipulate people to get what I want. I recently realized that I tend to withdraw from relationships when I don’t get what I want—not because I don’t want to engage in the relationship or be known by the other person, since that is usually what I most want, but it is my game to incite them to draw me out or pursue me my way. It didn’t work recently. Very frustrating.

See, a mentor of mine, who has the ability to draw me out to do work before I even know what he’s up to (if you’ve watched The Mentalist you know what I mean), respected my decision to withdraw and said he would not force me to engage if I didn’t want to. Well, of course, that revealed to me that I did want to. My game didn’t work. My attempts to get what I wanted my way were frustrated. I had to invite him in.

I began to wonder if God is this way. He won’t force us into relationship, but He draws us to invite Him in by allowing our frustration. He has the ability to change and transform and work in me without me even knowing what He’s up to, but He waits for my invitation. I withdraw from Him to get what I want my way. But then I get frustrated trying to do things my way. It doesn’t work. Thanks to the curses.

Isaiah 28:20 describes the frustration of my desires and pursuits well. It always rings in my ears in those times, “The bed is too short to stretch out on, the blanket too narrow to wrap around you.” There is no rest in frustration. And so frustration draws me to Him. Then I invite Him to work.

And then it begins—what I could not do on my own, what I really wanted. When I invite Him in, through our fellowship, He enables surrender, repentance, holiness, and rest—a taste of the glorious freedom of the children of God. And it is all a result of blessed frustration—the way of God’s pursuit. His way.



“Spirit-filled surrender means that it is the Holy Spirit who enables and empowers us to yield or surrender to God, and as we surrender, the Spirit fills us and empowers us even more! It is a blessed cycle, ever deepening, of Spirit-filled surrender!” Siang-Yang Tan (Rest: Experiencing God’s Peace in a Restless World)

Your Way

You foil
You frustrate
It’s what You do
For my gain
To turn to You
Futility for my gain
Just feels like pain
And since You do
I complain
And from You stray
For days and days
To try my ways
While You wait
It’s what You do
For my gain
To turn to You
You foil
You frustrate
Until finally I say
I want it Your way

If only I’d stay

Sehnsucht: A Lament

I want
all the time

I stopped wanting once
maybe
But it didn’t last long

Is wanting wrong?
That’s what I’m told
sometimes when
I want

But I was made
to want
really
Made hungry and thirsty and needy

Then the damned fall
And now I don’t get what
I want
And don’t know what
I want
really

And even when I get
I want
And even when I drink
I thirst
And even when I eat
I hunger
And even when I love
I want
And don’t get
enough
And never will
really

Until the end
Until Eden

Until then
I want

Out of Alignment

Everything is falling apart. I think it’s the second law of thermodynamics. Everything moves toward entropy and chaos. Homes have to be cleaned, cars have to be maintained, relationships have to be nurtured, hair has to be washed, the body has to be fed and exercised. Our souls are the same way.

I really don’t know anything about cars. Like a lot of things, the only time I pay attention is when it’s not working. The other day, after a tie rod broke on my car while I was making a turn (I just learned what a tie rod is), I had to get the wheels aligned. Not something I would do normally. But apparently, it has needed realignment for a while because it veers to the right.

Today I’m sitting here thinking about how I feel like I’m out of alignment. Like I missed some scheduled soul maintenance. Like maybe I’m veering to the right. I’m off-center. I’m forgetting where I’m going again and steering for another course that makes more sense. I’m losing the plot. Again.

I want my thoughts to align with God’s, my heart to align with his. To love the way he loves. To give the way he gives. To be filled by him. To set my heart on him alone. But my thoughts and my heart have been veering toward me—veering toward whatever I think will meet my needs and fill me up. Alignment comes when I give those needs to God and rest in His love. When I allow Him to wash me with the Word and set my eyes on Christ alone.

Recently I committed to keeping a day of Sabbath rest, but I’ve been wondering what it should look like. Perhaps I should think of it as a time for realignment. A day of quiet rest, free of the stresses and distractions that get me veering off course. My scheduled soul maintenance to keep me from falling apart—or to repair when I do.

smokers and frauds

I often feel like a fraud. I think it comes from being human. And redeemed. Being both is tricky. It would be much less ambiguous if I was completely perfect or completely screwed up. But as it is, I am neither. Or both, really.

So sometimes, this feeling of being a fraud is valid. Sometimes I am a fraud. I pretend not to be human. Or not to be redeemed.

When I pretend not to be human, I talk about God and myself in a way that impresses church-people. I’m kind of good at it. Actually I’m really good at it. I know the right phrases, what to emphasize, what to leave out—-how to gloss over my humanity while accentuating my perfection. I’ve been trained well in the art of manipulating Christians to get applause and pats on the back. I’ve been doing it my whole life. You might even say I’m addicted to it. I’m addicted to the admiration of Christians.

As a human, I like to smoke. But I’m not a smoker. I learned long ago that smoking would not fit with my strategy of winning the approval of church-people. And since I don’t need competing addictions, I haven’t taken up smoking. Yet, the other day, I smoked a cigarette with a friend—-in front of Christians. Because of my addiction to approval, I agonized over it for a while (although, I have to admit I enjoyed the seeming scandal of it a bit too). Yet it was a step toward freedom.

Freedom looks different for different people. I’m realizing that as my sense of self and worth comes only from being accepted as a child of God, I become more free in my choices because they are based less and less on addiction to anyone else’s opinion and more on a desire to love as Christ loves-–not that our motives can ever be completely pure. So, in pursuing Christ-likeness, making my friend feel welcome and received and helping her to open up by smoking with her was a way of accomplishing that. The sin would have been giving in to my concern over the censure of other Christians.

I was well aware that my choice would not meet the approval of some, yet, I was quite certain that by sharing that moment with her, I was showing grace and hospitality. I am reassured by remembering that Christ himself scandalized the religious of his day by doing things they would have found morally compromising in order to extend grace and love (breaking the Sabbath, partying with sinners).

I've had to change my understanding of the word hypocrite. Instead of conjuring images of those who claim to be Christians, but who smoke, drink, or swear, as I grew up thinking, I now think about those of us who do not give permission for Christians to express their humanity in front of us. I am a hypocrite when I pretend not to be human at all. Then I am the fraud.

I remember when I started going to this church in Portland several years ago, Imago Dei, I thought I might have to take up smoking to get in with the Pastor. He was always hanging out with the smokers on the front steps just before the service—-probably trying to evangelize I thought. Because Christians don’t smoke.

But it was there where I first encountered people who were embracing both their humanity and their redemption. It was there where I first felt that it was safe to be a sinner, and therefore it was safe to admit my need, and therefore it was where I first truly understood the gospel of redemption. I didn’t fit in as a fraud there. There, my addiction was revealed.

So, now, I don’t want to be a fraud. I don’t want to attract frauds. I want to draw those who are open about their humanity by being open about mine. That doesn’t always mean smoking, but it does mean letting go of my need to have the admiration and approval of others—-especially those in the church. If I can be human in front of Christians and redeemed in front of non-Christians, if I can be both in front of anyone, without my addiction to approval, then maybe you won’t want to be a fraud around me, maybe I can be that safe place—where you can be human and where the gospel of redemption can unfold in your life.

How Long Will You Wait?

If happiness results when life is going our way, then I think abundant life results when life does not go according to our plan. If we receive it. Christ came to give abundant life, and it is better than mere happiness. It is our inheritance.

I’ve been reading through the book of Joshua with my life transformation group. It’s a book about dividing land—the Israelites taking their promised inheritance, being restored after their enslavement and desert wandering. And I have to admit that in parts (long parts) it’s like reading a rich man’s will. Kind of boring. But I came to something in chapter 18 that I’ve been reflecting on. It says, “…there were still seven Israelite tribes who had not yet received their inheritance. So Joshua said to the Israelites: ‘How long will you wait before you begin to take possession of the land that the LORD, the God of your fathers, has given you?’”

Why were they waiting? God had already given it to them. It seems there were pockets of resistance in the land, keeping them from claiming what was theirs. They would have to drive them out, and that would require intense battles and reliance on the Lord for victory. They had already been fighting for some time. Perhaps they were fearful. Perhaps they decided they were comfortable where they were and would just content themselves with what they had—it was good enough.

I’m thinking of our inheritance as children of God, abundant life. I believe abundant life includes love, grace, rest, freedom, and restoration. This is our inheritance. Our promise. More than being a person of happiness, I want to be a person of grace, a person who loves freely and is at rest in my soul no matter what the circumstances. A person who accepts others without judgment, who embraces brokenness and gives out of the overflow of love and grace given to me. I believe this is true beauty, true strength, and it is the gift God wants to give his children. It is our inheritance. Abundant life.

But recently I hit a pocket of resistance. It’s funny how you can think you’re experiencing rest when really it’s just that everything is going your way. But when it doesn’t, that’s when we have to claim our inheritance. Often I choose to let the resistance have possession of the land –fretting, self-pity, complaining thrive while I live in fear. I settle for good enough because I don’t want to join the fray. But if you look ahead to the book of Judges, it is clear that letting them stay in the land leads to idolatry, addiction.

Problem is, we may even like and enjoy what is in the land. We may be sad to see them go. I read recently that Augustine once said that God is always trying to give good things to us, but our hands are too full to receive them. I have said before that rest is a thief because we can’t hold it and keep hold of our other treasures—unforgiveness, discontentment, greed, pride, etc. We have to surrender the things we’re clinging to in order to receive our true inheritance. Abundant life.

What battle has to be fought in order to take hold of the inheritance? What has to be driven out in order to receive? What has to be surrendered in order to hold abundant life? I’m asking God to search my own heart now. The battle belongs to the Lord.



“Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.” Joshua 1:9