Written in Our Flesh

Today I’m reading about Caden White and his fight with cancer. Caden is 4 years old. You should go to Caden’s site and read his story too…and you should pray for him and his family and all of the doctors and nurses and friends who are blessed to know Caden. He sounds like a beautiful little dude.

We need to cry out to God today for Caden because simply put, this just sucks. It’s just wrong for a 4 year old to have to go through this, it just is…

Caden’s dad and I exchanged emails and he seems to be an exceptional person. From the posts written by his mom and about his sister, they too, are exceptional…they’re flawed, like any of us and I don’t mean to imply in the least that they don’t have moments of sheer terror, anger or grief…and yet, in the pictures of this family it is so clear that God’s hand is upon them. The presence of God pours out through all the posts and steers itself straight into my soul. As I pray for Caden I imagine each word becoming a warm embrace for him from His Creator God. I pray healing for this guy…I hope, Community, that you will join me in this.

There is some speculation among historians that Ponce de Leon was never in search of the fabled “Fountain of Youth” in the New World and what really brought him here was the seeking after of wealth and fame. So, goes it….but for now we’ll go with my 4th grade Catholic school version of history and pretend that it really was his life’s goal to find the fountain of youth, ok?

I imagine his friends gathered around him, “Yo, Ponce, dude…give it up, you’ll never find it, it does NOT exist. Kick back, have a sangria and get over yourself.” To this the spunky de Leon would retort, “No, no…I will NEVER give up…never never…but hand me the sangria anyway, it’s been a hard journey…”

Perhaps even on his deathbed his friends would chide him with his ill-fated and wasteful life, capping it off with a sort of “at least you discovered Florida” or something. But tenacious Ponce would smile, knowing at that time that it was the search which was the reward, not the finding…

end scene.

“Where is the Wellspring? ” people ask on occasion. A little backstory for those of you who are new to the blog: A few years ago a bunch of people began to have conversations all over the place, Chicago, Los Angeles, Nashville…etc…small conversations about big things, mostly about one thing, community. What is is? Where is it? How do we get it? Do we have it already?

Some of the voices were dissatisfied with what they had at that point, some were happy where they were but wanted more anyway, some never had what they felt they needed, some had had it and had seen it move away or had felt it’s loss in another way. All of us were and still are looking for whatever feels like it’s next. In light of this we felt that it was about starting a new kind of church, actually it was about starting an old kind of church, an early church. We gather, we talk about how Jesus has entered our lives, our relationships, our homes, our work….we talk about how much we wish He could still physically have a BBQ with us and we listen to the voice of God through the Holy Spirit, a gift of Pentecost. We cry together, we laugh together, we use our hands, the hands of Jesus to build community, to exhort one another and to serve one another…to reach out to the lives that touch ours no matter how tangentially. This is what we hoped to see and we thought, we really did, that it was a church.

We incorporated, we filed all the paperwork, we opened a bank account and we found a space in which to meet but then a funny thing happened on the way to church. We built it, we thought…and “they didn’t come.” Well, more specifically we built it and they came one time and then they got busy or something…or realized that they didn’t know what it was when we built it…it was church-ish but maybe not church-ful. It was like looking at abstract art that was trying to be a still life. We knew it didn’t look right but we were working on it…and then, we all got busy or sick or something and like any plant, without water it languished in the pot.

Things settled in, as they do. Summer comes and goes, fall begins and brings with it the start of school, soccer, baseball, new work schedules, new relationships and a return to things once familiar and safe and this is where we live.

So now, a couple of us have taken the little Charlie Brown Christmas tree and wrapped our security blankets around it…we’re giving it water as we see fit, maybe tossed in a couple of those plant food spikes when we can find them in the garage and are putting it in the sun. That is what this blog is about.

We comment on how the plant is looking. How green it’s leaves have become, how small it still looks and we speculate on exactly what kind of plant it may be.

Like Ponce de Leon (or at least the story of Ponce) we keep watch for The Wellspring, often against advice from friends and relations, some of whom think we’re crazy for looking when there is already so much discovered country around us…but we keep looking, knowing that it is the journey which is the reward. We find The Wellspring everyday in the seeking of it.

I’ve just begun a new book, “Everything Belongs” by Richard Rohr. I believe that a few of you out there in my little corner of the “world” have read this already. I’d love to hear your commentary on it. Please bear in mind I’m about 1 chapter into it. It’s one of these books I think that it will take me a while to digest. I have read the first chapter three times in the last three days. It is not difficult to understand. It is like a fine meal set before me, it is something I want to savor.

Today I wanted to just put this quote out there because it “belongs.”

“For some reason it is easier to attend church services than quite simply to reverence the real – the “practice of the presence of God,” as some have called it. Making this commitment doesn’t demand a lot of dogmatic wrangling or managerial support, just vigilance, desire, and willingness to begin again and again. Living and accepting our own reality will not feel very spiritual. It will feel like we are on the edges rather than dealing with the essence. Thus most run toward more esoteric and dramatic postures instead of bearing the mystery of God’s suffering and joy inside themselves. But the edges of our lives – fully experienced, suffered and enjoyed – lead us back to the center and the essence.”

The road leads to the center no matter how it twists and turns along the way but you have to start at the edges and work your way in…

I spent the weekend at Gethsemane, a Trappist Monastery in Kentucky. This is where Thomas Merton lived and worked. I had been on a “silent” retreat before so I thought I had some idea of what to expect. I had a mental list of things I needed to address with the Big Guy and for this I needed quiet and to be away from the distractions.

It all began well…the food was adequate, the setting idyllic, the only difficulty came at 3:15am, when the monks rise to pray and begin their day. Their day begins with the bells, which signify the hour of day and the “Hours” of Prayer. They pray seven times a day according to the Order of the Hours:

* (at dawn) Lauds (“lawds”) later separate from Matins in the West; aka “Morning Prayer” or “The Praises.”
* (at ~6 AM) Prime (the “first hour”)
* (at ~9 AM) Terce (the “third hour”)
* (at Noon) Sext (the “sixth hour”
* (at ~3 PM) None (the “ninth hour”)
* (at sunset) Vespers (“Evening Prayer” or for Anglicans, “Evensong”)
* (at bedtime) Compline (“COMP’-lin”, aka “Night Prayer”)

In our case, Lauds began at 3:15am…which meant that the bells began around 3. The first night when the bells rang I thought it must be wakey wakey time and I suppose were I a monk, it WOULD have been. For a harried mother of 4 who has not gotten a full nights sleep since the parenting ride began however, not so much.

I tried to go back to sleep and indeed I believe I succeeded until Prime. By this time I was just awake…because not only did the “Hours” bells ring, but also the hour of day bells rang…and NOT just on the hour…every fifteen minutes. I could NOT figure this out. It was an absolute mystery until my friend Chris whispered the revelation of the Hours at breakfast. “They are OBSESSED with time…these monks…you see, it’s a song. At quarter after the hour it plays a quarter of the song, at half past…half the song…at 45 minutes past…three quarters of the song and then finally at the top of the hour the whole song plays.” Except as I discovered, at prayer time it plays the whole song and then chimes like 150million times.

I promise I’ll go through my journal when I get caught up on housework, schoolwork and sleep to give a more insightful and witty commentary on my silent retreat. I had some great walks, some great times of silence and prayer, crying out to God and some revelation, I think. I’m glad I wrote it down while there because now that I am returned, honestly, all I can remember are the bells.

Today Dave sent me a listing for a church that is for sale in East Nashville. The listing was sent by a friend of ours who moved here from California about 2 years ago because God told him to…kind of like we believe God told US to…and none of us are really sure WHY God told us to do this but we have this inkling of an idea.

We think that there is some sort of “convergence” here in the Buckle of the Bible Belt…we think that Artists who are also Christians need a gathering place of sorts, a place to work out their lives, their art, their work, their salvation all with fear and trembling. We believe that God is bringing together people of all kinds to build this new community; Artists, non-Artists, people who are Artists and never even knew they were Artists, broken people, misfits, malcontents…we don’t know exactly, but we’re thinking that’s the gist of it.

So, the vision is to make a place to do this work, to encourage the arts, to worship God, to use our giftedness, to share our brokenness, to make community and to seek authenticity. Our dream, really, is to find our people, our tribe, if you will…gather them together and greet them at the door.

We think this would be a great door. Know anyone who wants to give us a couple million?

I’m starting a list of words that have been ruined for me by the organized church. These are word that sometimes cause a facial tic in me during regular conversations. This is sad because I love words…truly, I do. Unfortunately some of these have lost their original meaning and have become taglines for the consumeristic, autonomous, individualistic mindset of many American Christians.

These are words that even hasten to say out loud in broad company. I don’t like to be labeled. I suppose, maybe that is my own work, something I need to work out in fear and trembling. For now, I shall just list them and see where that leads. Feel free to add your own in the comments.

Here they are in no particular order:

biblical

evangelical

born again

conservative

missions

blessings

saved

christian

church

legalism

fundamentalism

inerrant

protestant

There are more…I’m sure. Don’t get me wrong…just because I feel like “christian” has been ruined for me does NOT mean that I don’t still consider myself one and say so when asked. It just means that the traditional structure of the church is such that these words have lost their initial meaning and have actually become a detriment in some cases to the true nature, the breadth and width and measure in richness of the word. They become inaccurate labels that even Goo-Gone can’t remove. They become parody material and fodder for ridicule.

I think that is unfortunate, really, because words can be so powerful and so real.

“in the beginning was the Word”

“the Word became flesh and dwelled among us”

God spoke the world into existence….Jesus spoke to the men on the road as He opened Scriptures to them…He spoke the word “Peace” to his friends when He saw them in the upper room…

words are important…and it’s time to reclaim these and back them up with the action they require…always, always, rooted in Love.

-byAngela Doll Carlson

I don’t know how Jean Vanier would feel about it but each time I read a good quote from his book “Community and Growth” I just want to post it for you, loyal readers…

I imagine Jean would not mind but I think his publishers would start to get perturbed, mainly because EVERYTHING Jean Vanier writes in this book is quote-worthy, everything feels right on, true, beautiful. I remember with each page what I loved most about this book, what I love most about being in true, authentic community and how desperately I yearn for it. I feel as though I keep getting close and then, well…read this:

“Communities are truly communities when they are open to others, when they remain vulnerable and humble; when the members are growing in love, in compassion and in humility. Communities cease to be such when they close in upon themselves with the certitude that they alone have wisdom and truth and expect everyone else to be like them and learn from them.”

“The fundamental attitudes of true community, where there is true belonging, are openness, welcome, and listening to God, to the universe, to each other and to other communities. Community life is inspired by the universal and is open to the universal. It is based on forgiveness and openness to those who are different, to the poor and the weak. Sects put up walls and barriers out of fear, out of a need to prove themselves and to create a false security. Community is the breaking down of barriers to welcome difference.”

A-HA….this…this is it, people…this is it.
I cry out to you God…because I am so desperate for the real, for the welcoming of difference and for the end of fear.

amen and amen

just that…no gathering here at the Carlson’s on sunday sept 9th.  don’t worry, we’ll come back, we always do…

: )