One More Truth

Responsive faith with a trauma informed lens

The Steady Climb and the Sweetness

by 5 Comments

This post is featured on Ruminate Magazine.

Cruising into Manitou, the Incline comes into view. Once an old railroad, the narrow path is etched with more than 2700 railroad ties – an intimidating and seemingly endless stairway to heaven. It’s less than a mile to the top, but the distance isn’t the threat, it’s the steep and severe grades of incline.  We were three brave souls on our drive, but now, peering toward the sky, we begin doubting our readiness.

The August sun is menacing, but other adventurers march ahead and we take flight with them, making bets as to how long before we stand like kings at the top. We agree to one rule: we are here together, but we journey alone. I make a personal rule: no breaks, just constant motion. Slow and steady, or even slower and steady – but always steady.

Eight minutes in and I’m sweating as if the sun’s only target. Accustomed to running in the fire wind of a Phoenix July, I remind my screaming muscles they’ve felt worse. I keep climbing. Before long, it’s my lungs complaining, heaving in and out as if they’re being crushed, and in truth, they are. I want to breathe deeply, but the thin air burns my nose and insides, making me want to empty my lungs completely, but when I try, I choke. The elevation is a menacing resistance. I’ve no music on this trek and I’m forced to step in time with my own wheezing, and my lungs and legs find harmony in the rhythm…

To continue reading, click here to go to Ruminate Magazine.

 

 

Sunrise and sleepy souls

by 4 Comments

It’s 7:23 and the chill of asphalt is traveling quickly through my flimsy flip flops. I lean my bike against my body, the cold metal causing my legs to protest, and now my torso is chiming in about the coat I left at home, but I’m not about to go get it. I look out over the desert. The mountains are hiding the sun, but its fire can’t be hidden, and electric clouds light the horizon. It won’t be long.

Within seconds, the sun pops from valley folds, and slightly blinded, I breathe in sunshine for as long as I can before my veins turn to ice and I can’t pedal home. I never once question if witnessing this every day happening is worth standing in the cold.

It’s worth it.

For years I enjoyed watching day break, but sometime last winter, I stopped making the time. It was probably too cold, too inconvenient, too common. Another rotation of the earth, another sunrise. No big deal. The sunrise alarm would jingle my phone and I’d silence it, get back to tasks consuming my attention, and that was the daily routine – jingle, swipe, back to life. Routine had absorbed my soul.

This went on for quite a while, until one day – unable to recall when I’d last seen the sunrise – I deleted the alarm altogether. And part of me was really sad about it. Not sad about the absent alarm (less noise is always welcome) but sad that God was throwing color on waking skies and I’d lost delight in it all. I didn’t want to forget, but I apparently didn’t care to remember either.

The funny thing about the soul is, it remembers. Its cravings can’t be silenced with distractions or the petty sustenance that quiets mind and body. There came a morning when gold leaked through my kitchen windows and not a task or duty could hold me indoors. I ran the few minutes to my familiar spot, and as light filled the sky, delight filled my bones, and I stood in awe once again. Next morning, same thing; then the next, and the next, until I’d established a better routine of go, see, delight. I’d snap a picture for my sisters, sometimes send it with a verse or encouraging word – a little good news to break the monotony and monotone that soon fill a day – and it’d be back to life, just like before. But unlike before, now I had fire in my bones.

God is called the ‘Father of Light‘ only once in the Bible, but I think it’s my favorite name. It fits Him, and it explains why I need Him so much: His light wakes every facet of my being. The world’s darkness lulls my soul to sleep with bleak news and dull talk from dim minds. It’s a cynical forecast of gloomy attitudes telling me it’s just another day of drudgery. But God invites me to come and see His graces. If I silence His reminder, I’ll forget to delight in who He is. And when I forget Who God is, I forget who I am – a soul with a purpose, not a human with a routine.

Which is why I keep going out, watching melon clouds and violet stripes as the sun carves its path across the mountains. Nature’s beauty is a rhythm of thanks to its Creator – a song of gratitude – reminding me it’s another day to recognize God’s wonder and reflect His splendor with gladness.

 

Perfection, focus, and the secret of satisfaction

by 12 Comments

It was a last minute invite to a housewarming party, a night to enjoy the warm breeze and mingle with people we’d never met. We said we’d come and I whipped up a batch of peanut butter fudge. As expected, we knew no one, which didn’t bother us in the least. We made chit chat and toured the brand new house – beautiful and fresh as a newborn baby. The layout, the countertops, and every light fixture were the latest and greatest. The baseboards had never known dust, other than the dust of contractors. Walls and floors were smudge-free. The white tile backsplash was completely clean, not because it had been vigorously scrubbed, but because it had never before seen grease or spaghetti sauce. For every woman in attendance, seeing an immaculate house in real life felt much like spotting a unicorn. We were bewildered, overwhelmed, and impressed.

I’m a bit like a unicorn myself, I suppose. I’m a female who can’t relate with the typical lady tribe who scroll pinterest, speak the home improvement language of HGTV, and tour model homes on weekends just for fun. It’s not that these things couldn’t possibly be fun, it’s just that they’re not fun for me, mostly because there’s nothing thrilling about looking at perfectly situated things and imagining a perfect life. I already have a life, an imperfect one, but it’s mine and I own it, 100%. My house gets lived in, it accumulates dust and windows get streaked, but you know what? Spotless houses don’t have a lifespan longer than 24 hours, unless no one lives there. I know this because I aim for spotless every Saturday, and by Monday, that ship has sailed. My home is full of people I love, we have everything we need and then some, and I’m satisfied. And I like it that way.

The things you put in front of your eyeballs on the daily are the things you’ll eventually envy. That’s my spin on a line from a movie I can’t condone watching, but the statement was so profoundly true and Biblically accurate, I’ve remembered it all these years. Satisfaction isn’t a natural mindset, it has to be nurtured. I want to want my life, and in order to continue wanting an imperfect life with things that break, get old, sag, and look less than pinteresty, I have to keep some things out of my face. If I want to stay satisfied with my stuff, my relationships, my physical composition, or my life in general, I can’t be perpetually staring at what else is out there. I need a better focus.

When Paul wrote his God-inspired thoughts on joy in a letter to his friends, he wasn’t writing it from a sunlit room in his comfortable home, tucked in the safety of the desert suburbs. (Ouch.) Paul wrote his sincere ode to joy from prison. Paul had justifiable reason to seethe in disgust – he had lived in affluence until he started preaching Jesus. But he suffered the loss, and instead spoke encouragement without one word of cleverly disguised bitterness or deep-seated jealousy, even though his friends were comfortably enjoying freedom. How is it that Paul could remain content with prison walls right in front of his eyeballs on the daily? How did he exude genuine joy without one shred of envy for a better life?

Paul knew what was true: nothing in this world is built to last. All of it can and will be lost – status, stuff, situations – making all of it worthless. Garbage. It’s all going to burn. So Paul looked beyond his prison, beyond this life, and this world. He focused every thought on the truth, on things worth considering, things that matter, beautiful things, Jesus things. His faith wasn’t shaken. Knowing Jesus was infinitely more valuable than anything else. He knew his source of genuine joy and it continued to bubble from a place that circumstance couldn’t touch. He was free. The chains that held him didn’t hold his mind and didn’t hold him down – he was good.

Faith isn’t about having a perfect life, and joy isn’t about thanking God for the imperfect, but joyful faith is about keeping a perfectly confident focus. Because no matter what we see in front of us, Jesus is there, we belong to Him, He loves us, and no one can take Him from us. We can be certain of that, and that’s something to be glad about. The faith we’re building is going to last. That’s pure joy.

Our part in building unshakable faith is finding the joy in everything. God’s part in perfecting our unshakable faith is guarding our minds with His peace. Equal parts joy and peace. That’s the secret to satisfaction, my friends.

 

Desire, determination, and a whole lotta heart

by 8 Comments

Just before Christmas break, my daughter asked me the difference between desire and determination. It was a good question, a question she probably wouldn’t have thought to ask had it not been for her English teacher assigning a paper on the contrasting elements of desire and determination. It was the kind of good question that requires a good answer. I gave an example she would understand and defined the difference as this: desire is want and determination is the work behind the want.

The next morning, when the printer – with its incessant error codes and empty ink cartridges – refused to print her paper, we found ourselves wanting a final draft. We wanted it badly enough to work for it. We gave up on attempting printer repair, drove to Staples, paid a printing fee, and quickly scurried to the school. Desire and determination had joined in holy union, a mind-body connection of wanting something and doing something, resulting in results. Our goal was met.

This whole desire/determination thing was solid stuff, so useful in fact, I decided to write about it. What better way to encourage endurance in keeping New Year’s resolutions than to offer useful knowledge about the merits of staying determined?! Forget desire. Who needs it? Just set goals, store knowledge, stay determined, do the work, get results. Easy.

But it was horse crap. Most of it anyway. My observations read like the scientific method – informative and about as inspiring as the instruction manual for my printer. As if we can troubleshoot our way to the good life. As if knowing what to do and doing it are the keys to living well. Let me tell you, when my brain is overloaded with input, and my body is overworked and my ink cartridges are empty, any memory of previous desires is quickly erased by error codes. I have to get to the heart of the problem. Which is exactly what my goal meeting guide was missing – some heart.

God created me with a heart and I’m not a whole person without it. When it’s properly cared for by my Creator, in healthy harmony with every part of me, it’s my driving force – my motivator – not for function, for more. God designed me with purpose and for purpose: to love Him with all my heart, mind, and strength. Desire God, know Him, and obey Him. 

How do we live with big purpose and fewer malfunctions? Well, my friends, we can’t settle for a quick troubleshoot. Those cutesy woodblocks at Target, with their copious glitter and scrolly words of positivity, reminding you to “Never stop dreaming!” or “Just keep swimming” or “Coffee, cats, rainbows, smile” might encourage you to take a deep breath, but fluffy words aren’t worth a darn when it’s time to roll up the sleeves and push the pile. Loving God with every part of our being requires dedication more than determination.

So make these your goals: Let God care for your heart and guide your desires. Pray His prayers instead of your own. Read His wisdom rather than random advice. Rely on His promises and His strength in your weakness. Speak the truth and find a friend willing to do the same.

And desire Him above all else – that’s purpose defined.