on the edge

David has an anatomy and physiology professor that was talking about that--how we're really all on the edge. What a tenuous bundle of precision is required for the sustenance of human life. Blood and vessels, hormones, nerves, electrical impulses, organs and fluids, constantly pumping and valving. It's all a completely foreign language to me and yet more parts that I have even begun to have names for are at work to keep me living, breathing, thinking.

This morning as we prayed I imagined it. The edge--a scary place to be. Gives me the yeeks and I don't like it one bit. I don't want to be here. I want to be certain that things will be okay. Especially big things. I want to know the way and plan what we'll have for dinner tomorrow and what we'll name the baby.

But there is only one guarantee. Jesus says I am the way, the truth and the life. So, if Jesus is the way...oh, do I ever need him. The calendar, our balanced budget, meals in the freezer, my checked list, dear friends, a thriving church, routine, a good report from the doctor, vaccinations--none of those good things provides any actual security. Really.

And yet, the glorious mystery of it all is this: if/when I am aware and trusting Jesus as I live on the edge, I can dance. I can twirl a crazy twirl and do one of those exuberant ballet leaps with my knees all poking out in the wrong directions--right on the very edge and without fear. It won't matter if I mis-step. It doesn't matter one bit because I will be caught in the grace. Caught by Christ.

I would rather have that. Rather live joyfully twirling, even when my vision is blurred by tears--right on the very, very edge of life--than hanging from weeds and dirt clods by my fingernails, trying not to numb myself to the drop looming below. So today I fight to be here. I fight to twirl and trust on this very edge.

for freedom

David & I read a letter from International Justice Mission last night and they told a story about how when people are rescued from slavery in India they get to go through a two year school called Freedom Training. I wondered what it was. And sorta wished that I could go through it. And then I wanted to go visit, take loads of notes and work to incorporate that kind of training into our family, church, community as people are exposed to the very present, real reality of spiritual bondage into which we were all born and from which we have the opportunity to be freed through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

This song has been such a good reminder to our family. We're singing it in the morning before we leave--just to remember! Always to remember. Everyday.

Some of my favorite lyrics:

The Spirit 

lives inside of me;

where the Spirit of the Lord lives 

there is liberty! 

When the spirit of the world comes 

to kill me and enslave me

I will say--

There is liberty!

For the chains of sin 

that once entangled me

--now they're broken, 

how I'm singing now I'm free.

There is liberty!

You don't take his life,

he laid it down.

He paid the price

and shed his blood.

It is done!

The veil is torn

He is won

and I am free!

For freedom you set me free!

And yes! I am free indeed!

You rewrote my name 

and shackled my shame, 

you opened my eyes to see

--I am free!

Amen!

my journal still smells like campfire...

Sun through trees, over trees, lighting morning
pulling steam and mirroring mountain
on the pane of the lake.
Trembled--and the mountain shudders,
shadows, shimmers.

Slowly squinted eyes, stillness & imagination re-
clarify and remind my mind.
Re-flection, re-fraction,
obscures the unobscured.

I thought about the mountain in the morning. The mountain on the water. Real or not real? I got annoyed at my philosophical-ness. And yet, I kept coming back to the thought.

Yes. The reflection is real.
Yes. It can be moved, it is not sturdy.

I'm thinking...is this the kind of authority Jesus has given us over mountains?

a spirit

For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control. (2 Timothy 1:7)

This is what we've been given. When we believe in him, we've been just GIVEN this; it's part of the package deal.

Nothing we did for it. Nothing we do for it. Except believe it and live like it.

So, when I act all nervous and subservient and slobby and rude--it's me not acting in accordance with the spirit that I've been given. It's weird and unfitting; it doesn't make sense for any of God's people to be slippery or passive or apathetic or self-protective. It's awkward to live like weak, pale tea because it's not in line with the spirit that we have been given. It's in line with the old self, my flesh. But my old me is not it. That doesn't fit with this spirit I've been given.

Deep inside--in the deepest parts of us--God has come and made his home. Of course we would have

power

love

self-control