darkness

it was a dark and stormy afternoon. i looked for a picture for illustration, but realized that neither image nor word can describe that day. first-century onlookers asked, "is he really who he said he was, if he is being crucified on a cross? this must not be the son of god afterall."

but something was different. the sky was eerie, and the atmosphere was dark and spiritually heavy. in fact, some say that even though it was mid-afternoon, the sky went completely black when he died. i can't explain it, but on this day i feel a darkness. as i write, i have a knot in my throat, as i think about what christ did that day, so many years ago.

it was an age of honor. chivalrous codes declared that to die with utmost honor meant to die for the sake of others. what was his purpose in death? was it not the most significant way that christ could have expressed his love for humanity? the pain he experienced outweighs any pain that we might face in our lives. if it hadn't been for such suffering, would christ be able to identify with us, experience our pain with us, and walk with us into healing? you see, because he conquored death through resurrection, christ has the power to walk with us in our suffering into healing.

the greatest sacrifice. he died with honor in order to have the ability to walk with us into healing.

walls of snow

this weekend, troy and i went to mammoth with a friend. what we can't get over are the walls of snow - 15 feet of snow that completely cover cabins, and walls along the road that miniaturize the car.

troy finds the creator god to be most evident in times like these, as we sat on top of an 11K ft peak looking over the great snow-covered mountains. we took a moment to let it soak in... the clouds were coming in and the sun shining through. we found sections of pure powder which our snowboards/skis love. and it is in these moments that the whisper of the divine meets us, and we recognize the presence of god's spirit.

come, lord god, meet with us, and we will meet with you.

a breath of fresh aire

so we went to portland this weekend - a few people from canvas covenant, that is.

and is it possible to see this sight (multnomah falls),

and not be in awe of the creativity of the divine? i think not.

it was one of those moments when the air couldn't seem more fresh, not only feeling the gifts of gentle rain and light hail falling around us, but also feeling the mist from this great waterfall.

canvas had a significant weekend of dialogue, of which i cannot begin to write it all out (nor would you be interested in hearing all of its content, trust me). however, after spending a weekend talking about the church,

i leave with a familiar burden. it is the longing for more -

the indescribable "more." meant to be an expression of the kingdom, it is not.

in its rare moments, however, it begins to embody this kingdom.

its "greatest moments" are not the moments of the accomplishments of the institutional church, however, but rather the moments in which reconciliation is experienced. reconciliation with those who have formerly been rejected by the church, but are now embraced.

the kingdom rejects legalism and judgmentalism, and rejects the notion that the display of a "godly" moral code is a replacement for the greatest commandment. rather, those who participate in the kingdom of god do justice, to love kindness, and walk humbly with god. how can the church participate in this kingdom of healing, affirmation, and reconciliation? god help us.