Waiting can shape, sharpen, and make us more sensitive to that which sustains us.
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Take me to the water
Waves snuggle the shore
Teaching to breathe
There are many kinds of silence.
Companionable, awkward, and that of the grave.
There are many kinds of hushed.
Snowfall, waiting, and that of the whisper.
There are many kinds of quiet.
Tiptoe, longing, and that of the heart that knows that it is beloved.
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What is it about humankind that makes it hard to rest?
What is it about us that makes us turn up the lights, press “Next Episode,” or chatter away on the phone given the space of one commute?
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Return
To the love in which you were created
To the breath that first hovered over you
Return
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Re-entry never places you back in quite the same life.
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To be you: who you are, where you are, when you are is a an act of courage. It takes courage to go and experience and it takes courage to return, relinquishing fullness of the encounter to that which spoke it all into being.
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It need not be loud, sky-parting, or earth-shattering. It may only be recognizable to you. It may only be recognizable in the stillness of your soul once it has been disconnected from its usual patterns long enough to find stillness.
But the encounter will somehow meet you.
On the train, I began to truly engage all of my senses, hoping to open myself to the experience that is before me, and remembering that each moment of life is an opportunity to pay attention.
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The first step in living contemplatively is simply showing up—presenting oneself for an encounter.
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Wisdom from the Winter Garden
By Kate Rudd
The winter garden is not beautiful to the untrained eye. No more neat, vibrant rows of lettuce, carrots, chard, squash, and tomatoes. No colorful display of flower blossoms or insects abuzz. No neighborhood children running to pick carrots—exclaiming over how a radish grows. Nothing but empty lines, sad perennials. The intelligent gardener uses winter to enrich their soil with a diverse jungle of cover crops to nurture microbial activity, replenish nutrients depleted from last season, and build the soil by growing then composting organic matter. These techniques significantly enhance next season’s potential, but in winter this looks like chaos that doesn’t fill harvest baskets. It is generally barren, decaying, messy. It seems meaningless and a little depressing.
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You are Family
by Ryan Klinck
“You are family,” said Jonathan and Betsy to our friend Morris. “If it ever gets too cold outside, you have to come stay at our place. No excuses, alright?”
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Christ is Life
Advent, Week 4
by Andrea Lingle
I just spent three hours cleaning up the room shared by my second and third children. I begged, threatened, and cajoled my children to help me. I lost my temper when I found a basket of washed, dried, and folded clothes carelessly upended onto the floor. Every time I clean up my home, I am filled with grating antipathy for the world of physical science. Could we not have been dropped into a universe that tended toward order?
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Story Sharing in Portland
by Eric Conklin
A few weeks ago, an evening of story sharing was held at the United Methodist Church’s Peace House in the Irvington neighborhood of Portland, Oregon. There were about 75 people present from a variety of experiences and traditions, all of whom came curious to hear stories and make connections with others. I emceed the event, which was fun and a little nerve racking! There was an opportunity to talk about each of the sponsors for the event, where Missional Wisdom was one of 3. This story sharing event has been an ongoing project of the Parish Collective, a network of neighborhood expressions of micro-faith communities, inspiringly born out of the work of Paul Sparks, Tim Sorens, and Dwight Friesen.
Christ is Mystery
Advent, Week 3
by Andrea Lingle
If Paul was a Jew among Jews, I am a first-born among first-borns. I live my life religiously. About twenty years ago, I went hiking in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Western North Carolina with my family and some family friends. The place where we were hiking crossed a rocky bald where there were patches of sensitive lichen. A helpful sign instructed hikers to follow a trail of yellow painted dots to minimize the ecological impact of hundreds of booted feet. After a few minutes of ambulatory dot-to-dot, we sat down to look at the view. My mother, always aware of her children, had seen my careful attempts to minimize my lichen-impact, and teasingly asked if I was sitting on a dot.
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God is Amazing
by Wendi Bernau
The wonder and mystery of the Holy Spirit astounds me. I am humbled when I have the privilege to participate in the movement of God anytime I am able to listen and respond to God’s leading. Case in point: I had applied for and received grant money to facilitate an arts retreat for recovering alcoholics at a women’s transitional housing facility in Chicago the first weekend in November. There is a lot of prayer and energy expended in preparation for these retreats: the elements, flow, etc. I’m a feeler, and it has to feel right.
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Christ is Love
Advent, Week 2
by Andrea Lingle
The flow of the love of Jesus is the atomic signature of the Christ. An atomic signature is a unique array of electromagnetic waves or signals that every atom emits and absorbs that allows persons with the right equipment to identify anything on an elemental level. The body of Christ, in all its diversity is known by love. I do not mean only love given or received in the name of Christ, but love. The love of the Jew, the Greek, the Muslim, the agnostic, the addict, the sex worker, the evangelical, or the Pope is the signature of the living Christ, incarnate in us, come again.
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The Cochran House, an MWF Epworth House
by Justin Hancock
Dear Friends,
The residents of Cochran House have spent the last several weeks out in the garden, clearing away grass and weeds and turning the earth in preparation for planting both winter and spring seeds. It occurs to me that this is very much like what we have been doing as a community in relating to both our neighborhood and our anchor church.
What is Christ?
Advent, Week 1
by Andrea Lingle
What is Christ?
Jesus lived two thousand years ago and was called Christ. So, it seems clear that we could infer things about Christ from Jesus.
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Come, Thou Long Expected Jesus
by Andrea Lingle
The leaves are falling from the trees here in the western North Carolina mountains. There have been piles of people flowing through our little town as people pause their lives to come experience the spectacle of gold and red against a cerulean sky (that’s a fabulous blue color).
But I didn’t.