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[tastethegrace]

Thanksgiving 2022

A lot has happened since I last wrote. I don't have the energy to fill in all the details right now.

It's Thanksgiving morning. Stayed over at a friend's. Got up on the early side to avoid the sudden onslaught of children running around the house (not that I don't love it! just hard to deal with in the morning).

Since September, I've been in something I'm calling a "winnowing winter," where I feel unmoored, isolated, exhausted, and unable to handle multiple things, yet at the same time, though I certainly have unhealthy coping mechanisms, I have this stillness in me that accepts my circumstances.

I guess that's the part of me that felled compelled to write today. Not because I have anything special to say. But just to say that in middle of a really difficult time where I'm searching for solid ground to stand on, I am still so grateful to be alive, to have loved ones to celebrate with, and even to experience the highs and lows of life. It all matters, it's all school, and it all ebbs in flows through the seasons of change. And I am just change in sentient form, here today, gone tomorrow, observing and reacting to my origin happening all around me all the time. I'm grateful to have the blip of time I have to experience the rush of change, and when my time comes to give back my awareness in death, I will do so gladly so that another can experience it.

That may all sound super weird, but it is what I've been thinking about. Guess it just needed to come up for air today.

Much love. Until next time.

[tastethegrace]

Venting.

So I had a short, somewhat difficult conversation tonight.

My parents have never been on board with the my sexuality. I've tried to explain to them how I'm choosing to live my life in the midst of this truth about myself, but they don't understand. Sometimes it seems like they refuse to. They look at me as a black sheep, lost to the world. They're anxious for me. They worry constantly. And that's a burden, because that's the last thing I want or need.

It makes me really sad to know that this part of me is something that they can't/won't accept. They're not disowning me or anything, but it's painful for all of us. It's something that separates us.

I don't know if this will ever end in reconciliation, or if I should even try to continue this conversation. It's exhausting. It makes me angry. But mostly, I'm just really sad right now. Not sure how to healthily deal with this.

I keep asking myself if I need to talk to someone. I kinda want to. But I've been leaning so hard on my friends, and I feel like I can't keep asking them to give me their time. It needs to be their choice. I'm not sure how to navigate this season...I feel very strongly that something I need to learn is how to let myself be taken care of this season without falling into the pitfall of viewing people as the medicine. People are not "its."

And yet all I want to do is cry. And I need a hug. And someone to tell me that it'll be okay. And that they see me and love me just the way I am. And not to give up.

All of those things I want to hear...and yet I don't know how to/if I should ask for that.

[tastethegrace]

Growing Pains

So here I am in another empty cup season.

But this one's different. I just came out of an intensive workout season where my cup was overflowing because of how I was exercising my soul. It stretched and tore in all the right places. But in January or February, the fatigue began to set in and the throbbing pain of fear and loneliness cropped up again.

Now I'm fully in the desert. I've been acting as if I was still in that workout season, spending energy freely and pushing myself beyond my limits. But I'm starting to crash.

I need to be honest with myself and start matching my actions and behavior to what my body and soul are telling me. They're inextricably linked, so one will usually reflect the other. I'm desperately hungry and thirsty, but I think in order to be fed again, I need to rest my soul muscles. I need to let the tears heal; as they do, my soul will grow stronger, adjusting to its larger capacity.

As an observation, it's interesting how my constant phrase the last couple months is, "I don't have the bandwidth." That actually makes sense in keeping with the metaphor. My soul is tender and swollen in order to protect itself; my limits are less than normal right now because I need time to heal. When the healing is done, my capacity may end up being larger than it was before.

None of this is saying I don't have more growth to do; a new workout season will come around again, and soon. But right now, I need to make some practical changes in my self-care routine and commitment levels so that I can function healthily.

Here's the rub, though. For so long growing up, I desperately wanted to be taken care of. I wanted to someone to come in and heal me, to see me completely, and let me know it was going to be okay. That was an unhealthy perspective of human relationships; it led to a lot of enmeshment and unnecessary intense pressure. Post-divorce up until last year, I learned to live as a single man, establishing some basic self-care routines and becoming quite content to be alone.

Then, as I began my journey into a more mystical faith last year, I started getting into that spiritual workout. I was eating good food, digesting it, and practicing what I was learning. My cup overflowed. When I say practice, here's what I mean. I felt the acute invitation to lean into my closest relationships. Hard. I was super surprised by this, as I had learned to have a healthy separation from my friends. But I obeyed. I shared what I was learning, and I saw the Spirit use what was happening in me to touch others, especially my friends, and begin a healing work in their lives. It was beautiful.

I find myself deeply in love with my community - my found family. We've built something tremendous, and it's a space that's been hard-won. And now that I have an emptier cup, I find myself completely at a loss about how to take care of myself in this context.

Granted, I've been friends with these people for years. But now, it's wholly different. The invitation to lean into them is that same with an empty cup as it was with a full cup. I'm being invited to allow them to take care of me.

I keep getting hit with irony. When I was in college, I fought for this exact thing. I fought to be seen, known, and loved. But the shit needed to be stripped out first. And now, I don't have to fight for it. It's given freely as a gift. I just need to learn how to receive it, be blessed by it, and hold it with an open hand so that I can give it back freely when it's time. I need to learn how to be held again, acknowledging my need, without clinging too tightly. The weird thing is that I'm invited to cling. Hard. I just need to surrender to both the embrace and the withdrawal. The inhale and the exhale. It's a rhythm. The fact is, if I cling to the embrace and refuse to let go, how will I be able to embrace others when they need it? And they certainly will. That's the whole point of resting now: so that my heart will grow in its capacity to be filled with love - a well from which other people can draw when they're in need.

So Lord, in this season, now that you have clarified for me where I am and what I need, give me wisdom as to how to shape my life. Help me make the choice to NOT take care of myself when I need to be taken care of. Help me to find the balance. Help me to see clearly what is wise. And more than anything, help me to see. Even if it's just a few steps ahead of me, I want to see. You are good. Thank you for a season where you invite me to rest and heal.

[tastethegrace]

Reflecting

It's been a while.

April 2022 in Charleston, SC. It's been a good week seeing the Murrays over Spring Break.

Every time I come here, I'm struck by how vulnerable I feel most of the time. Sort of exposed, isolated, and somewhat in the wild. Sure, anytime I'm somewhere unfamiliar, there's always some of that. But it's been interesting living with that this time around. It's not like it's a new thing...it's just that I always used to think it was bad. I would get so frustrated or angry or deeply sad about the fact that my nakedness was distracting me from being present to what was happening in the moment...and then I'd naturally overcompensate but putting so much effort in to observing that I'd completely miss the point of being present in the first place.

What I'm noticing this time around is that even though I feel vulnerable, I'm not struggling against it as much. There were a couple times this week where I certainly felt the temptation to fight it, but something in me just told me to be still and look at it. I didn't like it much, but I didn't react to it. I just sat with it for a few days.

I've been wanting to go to the beach all week. The beach is one of those places that makes me feel small in a very good way. I almost always walk away more at peace than when I arrived. I'm honestly glad I waited until today. It was good to feel the sand suck me in, the cold ocean water kiss my feet, and the salt smell on the cool afternoon breeze. As I stared at the horizon, watching as the ocean stretched on and on into infinity, I had the thought that this is God. He said that he was with me. And I said, thank you for how big you are, even when I'm so wrapped up in how big I am or how big my problems are. And for kissing me, even when I'm oblivious. And for playing with me, even when I'm not always in the mood to be played with. And he chuckled and invited me to look down at the sand just beyond the tide line. The wind was picking up the sand in these beautiful streaks of yellow-brown and carried it to meet the waves. I'm in every grain of sand, God said. And he was. I saw it. And at the same time, I knew that he was in every cell of my body. I looked closer at the rocks to my left. There were barnacles and other things growing on it, and the texture was different on the top than on the bottom. And God was in all that was the rock. And God was in all that was the ocean -- every drop of water that filled it. And he was in the sun setting behind me. And he was in my anxious mind, in my restlessness, in my yearning, in my peace, in my tears, in my hope, in my love, in my grin, and in my moments of joy. I closed my eyes, said thanks for opening them and for the chance to behold it all, and then I walked back to my car.

It was an experience I've had before, but it was also beautifully unique for this time in my life. I'm beginning to be much more consciously aware of God's presence, and I'm learning more vocabulary with which to describe the beautiful dance of creation that I see when my eyes are open from time to time. Things are changing slowly. It gives me a lot of joy to say that, but I also yearn for more. Not for the feeling of change (although I do want that too), but I want to see more often. I want to see consistently so that I can love God for God. It's funny writing that, because it's like I somehow think that I need to find peace first, and THEN I can love God for whole he is. God is who he is right now -- he is the infinity of my presence and my absence, all that I am, and all that I am not. I don't need peace to start noticing that and loving him for it. I want to die to all that is not Love so that all that will be left is the Love that brought me into being and energizes the breath of all life on the earth.

When I was eight years old, I asked God to teach me what love is. I don't think I ever believed that he would. But that's my story. I'm learning more each year that love is both order and chaos, big and small, wild and free, ebbing and flowing, always present, vast and penetrating, patient, yet always active. I am a reservoir for the love of God. And so in this desert season, as I watch God watching me and showing up everywhere I look, I want to see myself the way he does so that I can be ready to give someone a drink from that well when I'm called upon to do so.

What a beautiful journey this has been.

[tastethegrace]

Changes

I pressed pause on Turning to the Mystics. Big surprise. But I'll be back.

Something big I'm working on: a two-person play about David and Jonathan. Why? Because I couldn't escape that this idea was something I had to write. If I didn't, I wouldn't be true to myself.

I've written the beginning and end of Scene 1. I've tapped out of where to take the middle.

I showed my inner circle last week, and they were so encouraging. They loved it.

I showed Michael & Rusty tonight (knowing going on that my reception wouldn't be as warm) and their responses were what I expected. I'm sad, but I did this on purpose. I needed to know what those with their perspective would take from this. Michael said he needed to think about it, but I think I know what his critiques will be: hijacking a Bible story to tell a different story...and the sexual tension. The latter was Rusty's problem.

Here's what I want everyone to know: I am not writing this to be an adaptation of a Bible story. This is not meant to be faithful to the words and structure of 1 & 2 Samuel. This story is about two characters who have a very deep relationship. It's meant to be in dialogue with the discussions of LGBTQ people and their place in faith. It's meant to be in dialogue with discussions of the church and their place in society, as well as their commitment to Jesus. It's meant to comment on the nuanced nature of intimacy and our propensity to make big things smaller so that we can feel comfortable. But more than any of these things, this story is meant to be a story about two characters who find each other and are immeasurably changed by their experiences together. This is a story of struggle. This is a story of love. This is a story of friendship. This is the story of the binding of souls. All of it can be on the table.

I want the ambiguity of the story and the conversation surrounding it to be on the table. Nothing is excluded. It is all valid because no one knows what really happened....and what really happened is not really the point of this story anyway. It's a fictional story about two people who I believe were real, and whose relationship has been chronicled for posterity in a book believed by many on Earth to have been written by God.

I suppose part of my goal, then, is to interrogate both our desperation to be right in direct juxtaposition to our desperation to be loved. Who suffers but the characters in the Bible? Whether the story is real or not, they are people with flesh and blood, and they deserve the chance to speak. And I think they have something important to say about the nature of love itself, with all of its grayness, murkiness, passion, and heartache.

I have written little in my life, but the one thing I know is that whatever I write must come from me -- from my own perspective. God gave me these eyes for a reason. I view the world the way I do, through my own experiential lens, for a reason. So I will face the fear of possibly alienating those I love to write this because I must.

[tastethegrace]

Checking In: Weeks 5-6

Go ahead and say it. I know you've been thinking it. Where is he?

Well, here I am. Week 5 was really hard emotionally. I had very little bandwidth. I was a able to meditate, but I didn't do much of anything else. As I've started week 6, I'm shaming myself for not living up to my commitments.

And that's when I remember something: everything about this moment -- the fan in the background, the setting sunshine outside, the tightness in my chest that I get when I'm restless...this is all God being with me. I'm not saying all these things are God. But they are the things through which God reaches out to me. He says nothing. He simply is. The fact that he is is an invitation to be with him. Being with him is not just something I do once a day or on Sundays. He is always with me. But am I always with him?

So I guess what I'm learning is that God himself shows up in the most mundane moments. It's up to me whether I choose to drown in his presence or not. Love is a free gift. He has already given it, and it is a standing invitation. My prayer is that I would integrate this drowning, this stillness -- that being and praying would be like breath to me.

I feel like such a failure when I don't live up to my commitments. It makes me think I should promise nothing, and perhaps I shouldn't. But the Lord, in his presence, is eternally gracious -- far more than I am with myself. And so as I am still, he says nothing, and in that nothing is everything. He accepts everything into himself, cleaning me out and putting me back together again. He does this all the time. It's his unique dance of recreation inside of me.

Lord, be with me. Give me new eyes to see as you see. Train my heart to be gracious, with myself and with others. Teach my mind to rest in you, to be inspired by you, and to follow my heart into your arms. You are good, and I trust that I am on the right road, even though I have no idea where I am going.

[tastethegrace]

Checking In: Week 4

I haven't written much this week. I'll get into the reasons for that in a moment.

First, this week's meditation is actually revisiting the prayer from Week 2. I love going back and looking at this piece from different angles. It makes meditation more of "heartbeat" affair. So there won't be any big analysis this week, unless God reveals something very new and unexpected, which they very will may.

Second, I'm finding it very hard to abide this week. I'm sticking to my daily meditation, but I have no desire to extend the time. I'm usually feeling the pressure to be productive. This is partially because it's summer and I am very anxious about keeping myself structured, but I think my ego sometimes uses that as a distraction when I need to slow down. This daily check-in with God, this abiding in his love, must become not only habitual, but necessary. That's why I'm doing it, and why when I cannot abide as I want to, I trust God to meet me where I am.

I haven't written much because I feel a lot of things, but it's all jumbled. I can't think clearly because I'm anxious; I'm afraid of what is to come, I'm nervous about taking on so much stuff this summer, and I feel insecure in general because I feel a shifting of the tide as one season turns into the next. It's an extended transition period; I never do well with those. I love change, but only if it's on my terms. Perhaps sitting in the tension of transition is exactly where I need to be.

Lord, you are good. You are filled with piece. So I ask that as I sit in this tension -- this in-between time-- that you would meet me here, guide my perception, guide my understanding, and prepare me for what is to come. But most of all, grant that I might come to see your love in a new way; move my chair so that I might find peace in this time naturally, from your hand. Thank you for giving me moments of clarity through all the noise. You are with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

[tastethegrace]

Analysis from Week 3 - Thomas Merton

The secret of my identity is hidden in the love and mercy of God. But whatever is in God is really identical with [God], for [God’s] infinite simplicity admits no division and no distinction. Therefore I cannot hope to find myself anywhere except in Him. Ultimately, the only way I can be myself is to become identified with Him in Whom is hidden the reason and the fulfillment of my existence. Therefore there is only one problem on which all my existence, my peace, and my happiness depend: to discover myself in discovering God. If I find [God], I will find myself and if I find my true self, I will find [God]. --Thomas Merton - New Seeds of Contemplation

Central Question: What is my ultimate identity?

Part 1: The Poetry of the Ultimate Identity in God

- God the Origin (Father, Mother) is infinitely expressing themself in totality as the Word.

"God is like a woman in labor, constantly giving birth to God." --Meister Eckhart

Note: There is a poetic richness here: "speaking God, birthing God"

- God the Origin eternally contemplates themself in/into the Word, as the Word eternally contemplates himself in/into the Origin. The love that rises from this union is the Holy Spirit.

- The inter-divine life of the Triune God is infinite love and knowledge presented as the overflowing fullness of reality itself: the mystery of God.

- From all eternity, God the Origin expresses themself as the Word and contemplates themself in the Word, but not just THE Word (referring to Jesus as the first focus of divine incarnational expression), but also as the Word "You" -- who you are.

- When God creates us (in the human plane of time and space), God does not need to think up who we might be.

- The True Self is the birthless and deathless You, forever known by God. Our ultimate identity is hidden with Christ in God from before the foundations of the earth (Col. 3:3, Eph. 1:4).

That it is "hidden" seems to refer to it as a secret: something that has been prepared for us to discover. (Mt. 13:35, 25:34)

- True religious experience is our capacity to awaken to this, to say "yes" to it, and to give ourselves in love to the Love that gives itself to us. For in the reciprocity of love, our destiny is fulfilled.

- The depths of God is, by the generosity of God, being given to you as the depths of yourself, in your nothingness without God.

- Love is always offered, never imposed; we must give our free "yes."

- The ultimate dignity of the human person is not simple logical or moral reasoning,; rather, it is this primacy of love as identification in God's personal creation.

Part 2: Suffering as Exile from the Ultimate Identity (The Human Experience of our Passage through Sequential Time and Space)

- Our customary experience of ourselves (our human nature) is exiled or estranged from the invincible preciousness of ourselves in God that is our very reality (our Ultimate Identity). In this state of exile, the ego asserts itself, refusing to recognize our identity in God, and thus lays its claim on us as having the final say in who we are. Example: "I am nothing but my personality, emotions, etc."

- All of these natural experiences (the genetic me, the sexual me, the historical me, the moral me, the feeling me, etc.) are provisional and real, but our ego is blind to what is past them.

- Our identity, formed by our ego within our exiled state, is what Merton calls the "False Self."

"Every one of us is shadowed by an illusory person: a false self."

"This is the [person] I want myself to be, but who cannot exist because God does not know anything about him. And to be unknown by God is altogether too much privacy."

- The False Self is the self who wants to exist outside of God's love and will, and therefore, outside of reality and life itself.

- A Life of Sin is a life devoted to the cult of the shadow, a subjective reality that orders everything else around itself. Life is used up in the desire for pleasure, experiences, power, knowledge, etc. to clothe this False Self -- to try to make the False Self objectively real. Example: If the False Self to us is like an invisible man, we wrap bandages around him to try and make him visible, but there is ultimately no substance; he is hollow. In the end, when all of these clothes are gone, we will finally recognize our hollowness -- that we were our own mistakes.

- Egocentric desires are the wanting of everything we are capable of attaining or losing. These desires do not have the final say in who we are. Only Love has that: Love that is being poured out as mercy in the midst of our uncertainty and all the unresolved matters of our hearts.

- Conversion happens when we see beyond the ego to our true selves in God; it is an initial awakening.

Part 3: The Path of Healing & Reuniting with the Ultimate Identity

- Simply tasting what is true is not sufficient for us; we must begin, and will naturally, to desire a daily abiding awareness of the depths which we have so fleetingly glimpsed.

Important Questions: 1. How can I find my way out of the darkness of this claustrophobic world wherein I keep imagining that my finite conditions have authority to name who I am? 2. How can I learn to live in a habitual state of awareness of the divinity of every moment of my life? 3. How can I live in fidelity to this state, that I might share that generosity of God with all living things?

"If I find God, I will find myself, and if I join God in knowing who I am, always have been, and always will be, I will find God."

- This process is immensely difficult; if left to myself, it would be impossible.

- Although I can know something of God's existence as found in nature by my own reason, there is no human/rational way I can arrive at that point of contact with God -- the discovery of who God really is, and who I am with God -- that possession of Love. The only One who can teach me how to find God is God alone.

- In a life of devotional sincerity, we sit at a rendezvous with God; we sense his presence around us and in us, closer to us than we are to ourselves. The Spirit within us fills us with longings to be grounded in this Oneness.

- By our own power, we cannot do this. The only thing within our power is to turn to God, crying out to them out of the depths of ourselves.

-With childlike confidence, through meditation and prayer, we can slowly begin to stabilize ourselves within this clarity that leads to deeper clarity: deep acceptance of our brokenness, as illumined and embraced by God every step of the way.

[tastethegrace]

Checking In: Week 3, Part 2

Checking in early today, as I leave Belle Glade and head back to Atlanta for the night. Having some big feelings this morning.

Of course, I love Jesse. And Dhember and Sundance. And I’ll miss them; parting with these friends is hard. They accept everything about me, whether they understand it or not. There is such grace here, and it fills me every time I am with them. But it’s more than that.

This is going back to something I have realized this week. It’s like there is a boundless reservoir of love that rests deep inside me, but I am only allowed to draw upon it one cup at a time. Sometimes, the cup is filled from love that comes outside of me, and so it overflows. This causes the reservoir to rise until it must be vented in some way. Love is always active; it must move, whether it is within myself or out towards others. It is energy.

Today, I have two primary conflicting forces within me. The first is the feeling of that reservoir rising, begging for an outlet, a channel where the love energy can be focused. There are only certain ways in American culture in which love can be appropriately expressed. I find it so frustrating and limiting, especially because if I don’t release love through my hands or my mouth, it leaks out from my eyes. And when it does that, it burns my insides. It is no longer joyful in its fierceness; it is sad, weeping over its loss and loneliness. It is heartache, heart longing. If it goes on too long, and if it is not anchored in the presence of God, that energy can become smoldering anger that, after a certain amount of time with no outlet, can become a horrible explosion of rage.

I have been feeling the urge to express love this morning, but I was afraid to do much of anything. I wanted to be present, just to see what would happen. I didn’t want to mess up the moment. The only outlet I received was a final hug from Jesse on his way out the door. I tried my best in that moment to give him some of that warmth, that energy I really wanted to bless him with (and that I honestly needed to), but it was not nearly enough. I retreated to the kitchen in tears. It was leaking from my eyes.

I need to pause here and say that I am so grateful. This is a piece of my true self, hidden in God, that became clear to me this week. It’s a special gift, something that makes me a lot like how Jonathan was to David in the Bible. I want to love and be loved like that. But more than what I want, it’s what I need to do. I’m supposed to minister to the heart, to be a conduit for God’s grace and mercy. I am also supposed to create new ways to express his energy, new ways to tell His stories. I understand a little of what my purpose is now. Thank you, Lord, for this glimpse into how you have created me. Thank you for contemplating me into being, and for creating me anew with every breath. You actively love me every moment. My existence depends on it. I have tasted and seen the relentlessness of your goodness and love. It is beautiful.

So now I return to the second force within me. The lie. When this great longing to express love rises within me and is unfulfilled, I hear words that have plagued me my whole life. “There will never be someone who will receive your love as you intend.” “There will never be someone who loves as you do.” “Your love is nothing but hollow feelings from a lonely heart.” “You will always be alone.” “You must fight for the love you want.” “You are toxic.” “They will push you away if you ever let the full force of your energy out; you must hide it.”

While it has been easier this week to distinguish and dispel the lies, by His grace, it is not easy this morning. I find it hard to think clearly, and the fact that I am already vulnerable in my longing does not help matters.

My response to this is usually to distract myself. I’ll probably do that on the drive. But for now, I need to strap myself to the mast of a ship and ride out this inner storm. I trust the hand of my God to fight for me when I do not have the strength, the words, or passion to fight myself. I trust that he abides in me more so when I cannot abide.

Lord, you know that the desire of my heart is to abide in you. This morning, my heart trembles with longing, with sadness, with fear; I feel so raw that I feel week. I feel a lack of focus; the dull heartache clouds my mind. I invite you in to keep me company today. Do as you will. But hold me steady in your love, I beg you. Grant that I might see you clearly, even for a moment today, that I might regain my courage. I have tasted and seen that you are good, and so I lean into your goodness, and I listen for your breath.

[tastethegrace]

Wrong: A Personal Statement

I found the above dialogue/meme on Facebook, and as I meditated and chewed on it, my thoughts found themselves expressed in the following personal essay. Please take these thoughts with a grain of salt, as I am a man in the middle of a process, and I still have a lot to learn.

I have heard many discussions concerning the culture’s need to hate the church because it does not approve of its actions. From my observation, this specific dialogue highlights how language has evolved, based not only on its literary meaning and context but also on its cultural associations. The word “wrong” for many, especially in this generation, comes with a significant amount of traumatic emotional baggage.

Let’s go directly to an obvious example. A teenage boy comes to his conservative Christian parents and says, “I’m gay.” The parents, not knowing how to handle such a statement, say that the Bible says it is wrong for a man to lie with another man, etc. The boy immediately feels misunderstood and isolated because he wasn’t talking about the act of “homosexual sex.” He was referring to his orientation: he finds men sexually attractive rather than women. There is already a fundamental misunderstanding because the parent does not respond to the child’s expression of need and basic desire at that moment, which is acceptance and love.

For the record, the issue the parents are worried about, the actual act of two men having sex, is an issue that should be addressed, but it is not the primary issue for the boy. That’s what is most important. If you want my thoughts on the Bible and homosexuality, you’ll have to wait for another post.

From this point, the parent, who conflates the action with the orientation, wonders how they went wrong in their parenting, how they might fix their child, or, at the very least, how they could prevent losing the boy to a life of sin. They react emotionally, doing whatever corrective action they find necessary to address what they think is the problem. At the same time, the boy feels more and more isolated and misunderstood with every step.

As this goes on, every single one of the parents’ emotional actions towards the boy becomes received as personal judgment, as the boy is trying to address an identity question. From his perspective, through their words and actions, his parents are saying that who he is at his core is wrong, as being gay is an essential part of who he is and how he sees the world. On the other hand, his parents would say that they love their child, and it is out of that love that they are trying to save his soul from being lost to hell. The truth, however, is that his parents are terrified. They act emotionally in response to their fear, rather than responding directly to their son’s words and actions.

As a disclaimer, this situation may not describe every gay person’s story with their families, but it contains some elements familiar to many.

It is crucial to examine this example step by step to understand the weighty emotional associations that now accompany the word “wrong.”

As the boy moves forward in life, he immediately reacts to that word with a strong negative response. It echoes in his ears as a resounding judgment and deeply rooted rejection of who he is as a whole. He does not understand the idea of “wrong” as a boundary applied to action. Instead, he has internalized a negative self-identity, wherein he, himself, is “wrong” and thus without value.

Now, I feel the need to address something tangentially related to this discussion: my opinion on the binary “right versus wrong” dynamic. I firmly believe that the institutional church has misused this dichotomy from the time of its inception: when it joined the political sphere. However, this dynamic goes far further back into history. The need to know right from wrong, given in those terms, is a human one, as reflected throughout history. The Israelites described the revelations of God in these terms, but it was a beginning, not a perfect end. God worked within it and used it, but it was not from him. Over and over, Jesus urges us, both implicitly and explicitly, to embrace the spirit behind the law. He is talking about seeing the world through new eyes. He is talking about wisdom and discernment.

I believe that once adult Christians grow up, it is our calling to keep the law written on our hearts to the extent that we learn its spirit. The law, in this sense, functions as a scaffolding for us as young believers, just as rules help young children learn obedience. We need the law. But at a certain point, when we see Jesus’ fulfillment of the law by the spirit, we must follow his example and become the embodied, incarnated fulfillment of the law as he was. This transformational process can only happen through the development of spiritual discernment. It means the training wheels must come off.

When we learn to ride a bike, we begin with training wheels. We come to know the basics of how to pedal and steer without having to worry about balance. But when the training wheels come off, we must learn to use these tools we have gained to help us balance on our own. Riding a bike without training wheels is different than riding a bike with them. We must learn how to calibrate pedaling, steering, and braking all at once to achieve balance.

It is the same with spiritual discernment. Learning about the law and church tradition as young believers is helpful because it provides a structure that supports us and teaches us critical skills foundational to the Christian life. But it cannot end there. Once we have gained a certain level of confidence and independence, I believe God calls us to let go of our scaffolding.

Now, am I saying we throw out everything we have learned? Surely not! In the same way that we still need to remember to pedal, steer and brake, we must still have the law’s imprint on our mind and heart, ready to call upon in time of need. Likewise, however, akin to that feeling when we remove the training wheels for the first time, our first season moving into living primarily by the Spirit, discerning what is good and beneficial, will be rough. We will experience two intense emotions, both of which mirror childhood experiences.

The first is the fear that we will fall. When the training wheels come off for the first time, our parents stand over us, walking with us to get us started. But then, after a few feet, they let go. We panic, afraid of what we know is inevitable, and we fall. We cry, whether or not we are physically hurt, because we feel betrayed. Why did they let us go? And our response many times at first is, “I don’t want to do this anymore! I can’t! Bring back the training wheels!” But how do our parents respond? Sometimes, depending on age and observed ability, they may say yes for a while. Most of the time, however, the response is usually something like, “It’s okay! I’m still here. I love you. But we’re going to keep trying at this. I promise you will be happier when you get the hang of it, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now. I know you can do it.” And so, still trembling in fear (and most likely still crying), we eventually decide to trust our parents and get back on the bike.

We must accept that we will fall. We will mess up. We will miss the mark. We will sin, whether or not we mean to. But God is our Daddy. When we fall, he picks us back up, assures us of his love, and encourages us to keep going!

Then, there are the moments where we will pedal for a few feet and think, “I’m really getting the hang of this!” But suddenly, the bike starts rolling faster, and we panic, forgetting how to brake. And we fall. We repeat the process of crying, begging our parents to pick us up, and listening to them comfort us, urging us on, until we finally get around to trying it again.

Every time we practice something, we will find these moments that surprise us. We are actually doing it! Until we’re not. Every time we choose to try again, we incrementally improve until it is eventually…as easy as riding a bike! But the process must always play out in full and in its time.

We will be afraid of falling. We will laugh with joy at the glimpses of freedom we experience. And through both of these moments, these steps in the process, we will still fall down.

When we choose not to enter this process — when we decide to keep the training wheels on indefinitely — we are depriving ourselves of the joy that comes from growing up! Would you want your child to stay on training wheels? No. We want our children to keep learning until the skill is natural for them.

One more thing to remember here: just because we eventually become natural at riding a bike doesn’t mean we don’t fall from time to time. We still have more of that process to go through where we experiment with different things, like popping wheelies, doing tricks, or attempting a challenging trail. Why? To see what works. To see what is us. Through it all, we will still panic. We will still make bad choices. But the key is that we learn from them. Our experience teaches us and guides us.

If the law has been written on our hearts, then we have a foundation for what is good. The Spirit himself impresses upon us through our experience what the whole point of the law ever was: the Dance of Love. I’m not going to take the time to explain examples in the Law, as expressed through the Old Testament. That’s not the point of this. The critical point to remember is that God built all of creation, with all of its natural courses, right down to our very skin, with the DNA of love embedded in it. Love is the foundation of our faith because it is who God is. God himself invites us to abide in Him --within His love-- and to be one as He is One. And His love is not like our love. It is far more perceptive and profound.

To summarize my central premise, Jesus said that the greatest commandment was to love the Lord our God with all of our heart, soul, mind, and strength, and to love our neighbor as ourselves. That is the point of the entire law. The law must bend to love at every turn. If the law is not loving, then it must be carefully examined. To examine the law doesn’t mean that we necessarily throw it out. It does mean that we must abide more within God’s perfect love so that He can give us the eyes to see.

So what does this all have to do with the word “wrong”?

When viewed through the eyes of reason, there is nothing evil about the word itself, and we should take it by its primary meaning in most cases. However, when viewed through the eyes of love, using our empathy muscles, we must recognize that our generation just does not know how to grow up. I don’t have the time to unpack that statement fully here. However, I have observed a correlation that may be worth considering. We who have lived through a physically or emotionally traumatic event have not yet fully learned how to deal with the scars left behind. We are stuck, enslaved to that pain inflicted upon us with the word “wrong.” To many of us, this word does not refer to something objective. It relates to who we are and how we see the world. Why else would young people be leaving the church in droves? It’s because we come to a point where we cannot abide abuse, whether it is against ourselves or those around us. “Wrong” has become a weapon.

I would like to make a case for different vocabulary that expresses the same things more maturely, using Paul’s language in 1 Corinthians 10. “Beneficial,” “Constructive,” “Helpful,” “Build up,” “Profitable,” “Edifying”… These are the words we need to use when asking questions about actions. Is this action primarily all of these things? How is it not all of these things? In weighing the answers, testing them against both the law as written on our hearts AND the love of God as proven through our experience, we can discern with the best of all intention the answer that is most like something God would do.

For me, I would love as God loves rather than be right. “Righteousness” does not mean what we think it means. It refers to a right spirit, a heart of pure intention, focused on the mark. This idea is most evident to me in two moments from Scripture. God says to Samuel, “the LORD sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the LORD looks on the heart.” Later, Jeremiah quotes God: “I, the LORD, search the heart and test the mind, to give every man according to his ways, according to the fruit of his deeds.”

The heart behind our actions. The fruit of our actions. We must have eyes to see these things, for it is through these things alone that we will be measured and judged. While I also no longer personally believe in the doctrine of a torturous, eternal separation from God called Hell, I do firmly believe that God will count us according to Love. The proud will be brought low and the humble lifted up. The old man — the ego — will be thrown into the fire, while the new man will live eternally on the new Earth.

Our job is to love. Is it good that we observe trends, analyze them, and recommend solutions? Absolutely. All of this is helpful information. However, we must go beyond the simple study of these trends through the lens of rational judgment. Instead, we must learn how to see them through the eyes of the Love that loves us so.

So, when a child of this generation responds angrily to the word “wrong,” what might be the wisest response, the one bathed in the love of God? I don’t know for sure. But what I am learning from my own experience with Him is that there is often a middle way between harsh judgment and no truth at all. But that way is often slow, messy, and full of tension. We don’t like those things. We want certainty, one way or the other. But it is only through abiding in the love of God, sitting in that space with the tension, observing it, and ultimately embracing it — learning how to love it — that we might finally meet God Himself. And it is only through that meeting that the middle way will appear before us, for He will give us new eyes to see as he does.

[tastethegrace]

Checking In: Week 3, Part 1

So for checkins for the next two weeks, they will be as needed while I’m traveling.

Tonight, I need to write.

Since this meditation process began, I’ve felt God’s nudging to embrace a part of me that I have hated for so long I can’t even really remember when it started. Sometimes I call it the monster in me, and other times, a child, but it’s clear now that they are one and the same. My most constant description of this part of myself is toxic. Why? Because it repels people/pushes them away, corrupts relationships, and invites cruelty.

As I have considered all of this, I began to remember specific traumatic incidents in my life that contributed to this hatred of myself. But that was the origin of my hatred, not the dissociation itself. I think that happened whenever I realized the my effortless freedom, passion, freely given affection, and big energy were not universal. In fact, they were too much to handle for most people. I was faced with a choice. I could either continue in freedom and be an outcast, or attempt to learn how other people relate, or what the rules of the social game were, so that I could fit in. Of course, I didn’t want to walk through the world alone, so I chose the latter. I locked all of that good stuff away. What I didn’t expect is that I would still have big feelings, but without that foundational love and joy as my anchor, I had to framework through which to understand why.

What I have come to realize this week, as I have considered how my true identity, hidden in God, was contemplated into being from the beginning of eternity, how I have always been known, is that In dissociating so young, I lost some of the best parts of myself. This love, joy and freedom were not ordinary. They were a unique outpouring of the love of God, an image of how he views us and what he wants for us.

This is not arrogance. It’s an embracing of the truth. I am learning how to love all of myself again, embracing the most vulnerable parts of me as God does.

These things were not formed, and I certainly needed to learn wisdom, but locking it all away was never the answer. I needed guidance on the specific ways where all of that energy could be used for the good of the world. I needed to learn discernment. All of that was stuff God wanted to teach me. But I wouldn’t let him. Even with all of my deep, existential questions, I couldn’t see past all of the harm these pure parts of me had caused as I flailed around, learning how to walk.

Let me take a moment and describe the nature of the gift of love that God has given me. Until recently, I could not understand it. It is not purely emotional, although it often expresses itself that way. It comes from deep within me, from a place beneath my awareness, like a spring welling up to water the earth. It is so pure that it could not possibly come from me at all. It comes from God’s natural imprint on my soul. It’s what makes me look like him. This love can show itself as compassion, empathy, affection, sexuality, service, or even passion for a common interest, but it is always outside of myself. It is always directly attracted to the other.

So many times, I have felt this spring welling up inside me, and my internal desire has been to draw close to another person, to pass some of this warmth onto them, just to let them know how much value they have, and how deeply they are loved and cared for. Most of the time, I would suppress these desires, as I was so afraid that expressing them would interfere with the social dynamics or the relationship in general. I never allowed myself the time to try and try again. As I write this, I’m grinning, because as much as I feared the shame that letting my love out might bring, I still ended up ashamed because I was not doing what I was made to do.

I became so lost in that shame, so depressed because of the apparent meaningless of my emotions, the constant pain in the depths of my soul, that I lost all sight of who I was or where I was going. I lost all of my joy, and all of my opportunity for real happiness.

I have always been a deeply contemplative person. I love to peel back the layers, understanding the beating hearts behind words and actions. I’m a creative who investigates. I want to know the depths of the world and the heart. But I also naturally want to be known. And it’s through this that God began to reach me.

A few years ago, I was privileged to have a friend who, while perhaps ill-advised, made me a promise of faithfulness. No one had ever done this before. It shook me that it was even possible outside of a marriage vow. Six months later, during a particularly painful episode, when I had been having panic attacks and all of the shame and burden of the past was weighing heavily on my shoulders, I began to weep in the presence of this same friend. He could have said something. He could have touched my knee or patted my back as a sign of presence. Instead, he scooted closer to me and wrapped his arms around me. I sighed heavily, shocked at the energy that I felt flowing into me, healing me. All I could say was, “Please.” He shifted as if to ask what I meant, so I asked him if we could just stay like this for a minute, if he would hold me. He said, “Absolutely.” I let out my tears freely for what seemed like forever. But the thing that shocked me most from this intimate exchange was when I felt him kiss my hair. It was not a sexual kiss by any means. It was the first time anyone except my parents had ever done that, and certainly the first time since young childhood. The only word that seems sufficient for it now is “holy.” It was set apart, weighty with meaning, pure, honest, and true. It said all I needed to hear without saying a word.

These moments began a change in me. I still flailed around, making mistakes and fighting off insecurity, and I still do sometimes. But it was the beginning of finding myself again, of finding stability in the unlocking and approval of male intimacy.

Psychology might attribute my response to this episode as a response to a lack of affection from my childhood, but this was not true at all. My parents have always been physically affectionate people, and the words “I love you” were so common around our house that I was surprised to learn that this was not the case for many families. While it is true that parents sometimes don’t know how to guide their children, and thus stumble and make mistakes because they are human beings, this had very little to do with parenting. I’m not sure I even gave them much room to guide me with this. It was my choice to hide it all, to wound myself by trying to suffocate that part of me.

So where does this leave me now? Good question. First of all, I am grateful. With this realization, so many pieces have fallen into place. My story and purpose are clearer now than they have ever been. As to how I will use this gift (which, if I’m honest, still amazes me), I am beginning a process of learning. God will show me, step by step, how and when to express it. But if there’s one thing that will definitely change, it is my reaction when I feel that energy welling up within me. Rather than asking if I should express any kind of desire to connect, I will ask, what is the most helpful way to communicate God’s love in this one moment?” Sounds like I need keep practicing presence and openness to the Spirit. Lord, you are good. I follow your lead.

[tastethegrace]

Week 3: Thomas Merton

"The secret of my identity is hidden in the love and mercy of God. But whatever is in God is really identical with [God], for [God’s] infinite simplicity admits no division and no distinction. Therefore I cannot hope to find myself anywhere except in Him. Ultimately, the only way I can be myself is to become identified with Him in Whom is hidden the reason and the fulfillment of my existence. Therefore there is only one problem on which all my existence, my peace and my happiness depend: to discover myself in discovering God. If I find [God], I will find myself and if I find my true self, I will find [God]."

Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation

[tastethegrace]

Analysis from Week 2 - Thomas Merton

“My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.”

A few observations, some of which are quotes from James Finley:

Topic 1: Devotional Sincerity

- Merton approaches the throne of grace with confidence and sincerity. He has an intra-personal awareness (deep within himself) that he is subsisting (as light subsists in flame) within a state (attitude) of interpersonal communion with God. His words are heartfelt, mirroring God's sincerity; Jesus' words came from the heart.

- "Let your sincerely expressed doubt be the way that you enter interpersonal communion with God." Anything that is honest is an access point into relationship.

- "In the spiritual life, to know is to know that you are known. To speak is to know that you are heard."

- Devotional Sincerity is heartfelt honesty and confident trust. Nothing is contrived or manipulative. It is an awareness and proclamation of the truth. There is complete integrity.

Topic 2: Awakening

- "...that I might behold the divinity of all life, seen through these eyes..."

- "Our next breath belongs more to God than to us."

- "Our ongoing existence is the generosity of God being poured out."

- "God presents his presence (perpetually) in the gift and miracle of all things."

- Our deepest dignity is our capacity to be awakened to the pouring out of God's presence as all reality. This awakening, this quickening, is spiritual experience, an awareness of the generosity of God.

- That which is essential is offered; that which is unessential imposes itself.

- What does it look like to live a contemplative life in a non-contemplative culture? Answer: Cultivate a contemplative consciousness

- God's oneness with us is hidden in the depths of our being. We are lonely for the depths of ourselves, hidden in God. We are distracted, skimming the surface, and so we don't find Him, but He invites us to be awakened.

- The mystic or monastic life consists of attentiveness (oneness) infused with love.

- Therapy is being in the presence of someone who can invite you to be present (at a feeling level) to what you've just said. This is an invitation into sustained awareness.

- Meditative practice is any act that, when we give our whole heart over to it, takes us to the deeper place. It is a daily rendezvous.

Reflections

Now that you've seen my notes and observations from over the course of the week, let me try to synthesize some of these insights through my own personal experience.

First, devotional sincerity is a powerful thing. What it's really asking me to do is to be truly honest with myself, and beyond that, to develop an attitude of honesty. After giving it some thought, it occurred to me that human beings (myself very much included) are often so willing to separate ourselves into different boxes or masks that we can put on and take off at will, that we often forget which piece goes where, or even that we have anything missing at all. We lose awareness of ourselves, and thus, we lose the ability to be totally, unabashedly honest. Honesty is about acknowledging what is true, what you actually feel and experience. In order to foster devotional sincerity, I first must put myself back together, or at least become aware of the pieces so that I might find myself in a position to heal.

Putting the pieces back together requires a mandate to embrace all that is within me, whether I like it or not. This is difficult for anyone. The entire reason we split up who we are depending on the circumstance is because we don't like looking at the ugly or weak parts of ourselves all the time. We only put them on in private, when we think no one is looking. But the truth is that those parts of us are still us, and we can only be totally, fully loved when EVERY PIECE of us has been embraced and forgiven. Once this has occurred, we must do the same for all of reality. To embrace reality as it is, and not as we wish it to be, is to embrace God as He is, and ourselves for who we are. We must accept the unacceptable, and thus, we must forgive the unforgivable.

It is only from this position of acceptance, embracing all that is, for it is in all things that God can be found, that we can then bring all that is within us -- our fears, our doubts, our experiences, our choices--as access points into the abiding love of God. This is important. Anything we experience is fair game, and God does not judge us for it. Though it may torture us, He will embrace us and guide us through it. When we are weak, there he is strong. When we cannot abide, then he will abide even more so.

Developing devotional sincerity seems to be a foundational piece of gaining awareness, or "waking up." Once we have developed a high level of confidence and trust in the Lord, acknowledging the truth that we know nothing, we can open ourselves to the other big truth: that God knows all things, including us, from before the foundations of the earth--eternally. We begin to see him everywhere, and we begin to see more glimpses of him in the depths of ourselves. For he is both without and within.

The phrase, "Seek him where he may be found" keeps sticking with me. And where can he be found? "If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there." (Psalm 139)

Indeed, there is nowhere God is not.

What comforts me about all of this is that God has always been there, and he always will be. The fact that I have just been blind to it is no longer something to be ashamed of, for God will prove strong where I am weak by leading me into the depths of his presence. It is a humbling thing to be invited by a love so massive, and yet so specific.

This journey is proving to be beautiful in a myriad of ways. Meditating on the same passage for an entire week forces me to dive in when I am passionate and able to abide, and when I am resistant and unable to abide. Yet he is faithful either way, and so I don't need to worry or scold myself in any way. I can acknowledge the truth to the Lord, and he is gracious, meeting me where I am in all of his fullness. When my cup is empty, he fills it. When my cup is full, he provides me with opportunities to fill the cups of others. He is generous in every way. I look forward to taking the next step on this path into love with you all this week.

[tastethegrace]

Week 2, Days 5-7: Checking In

So tonight would usually be where I post my more in depth notes on the text for the week. However, given as it's late, and I have neglected my check-ins, I'm going to write something brief and honest here first. I'll post my notes tomorrow.

The last few days have been difficult, but they have been honest days. What do I mean by that? They're days when I have struggled with wanting to do this, and yet I have listened to the text and done meditation anyway. I have been exhausted, preoccupied, wanting to do anything else but dig a little deeper. I have felt all of that very viscerally. Today, I scolded myself for my lack of discipline. But tonight, as I sit down to write, I find an immense sense of peace and healing. I have a feeling that it has been there all along, just in the background of my mind, inviting me to relax.

Here's what God has been speaking to my heart the past few days, under the surface, that is only now becoming clear:

You are human. You are weak. Embrace that weakness, for that is what I do. Love yourself in it. Honor it. Abide in me in it. Use it as your honest access point into relationship with me. I love you in your weakness so much. I just want to hug you, to tell you it's all right, to just sit with you in it, whether you're napping, eating more than you should, watching TV, working, or doing anything else. Whenever you miss the mark, I am right there, and I am loving you in it. I have nothing but grace and mercy to bring to you, my beloved. No matter where you are, whether you find yourself incapable of facing the world or facing yourself, whether you are serving others or living out of your ego, I am with you. Bring me your weakness, and I will meet it. Give me your weakness, and I will return it to you as undeniable strength to go on. Live from your weakness, your doubt, your hunger and thirst--live, aware that all of that, all of you, is in me, as I am completely in you--live in the knowledge that all of these things will be returned to you as righteousness because we are One. Even when you don't see it, it is still the truth.

This is a reality that has been true of me for a long time. The journey this time has been to become aware of it, to experience it consciously for the first time. The more I go on, the more I seem to descend into my weakness; the more I seem to struggle with my inability to abide. However, in that awareness of my inability to focus, to keep my awareness of the truth, to stay awake--the bigness of God's love just keeps on growing. Every time I come back to this same lesson from a different angle, I feel more humbled, more attuned, and more prone to say YES to it than I was the day before.

The Lord is good. He works in our weakness, through our weakness, and as our weakness. He is so big that there is nothing that can separate me from him, and there is nothing he cannot do. There are no limits to be placed on him. There are no boxes in which he can be placed. There is only all of creation, that is created anew every passing moment. Every heartbeat, every breath that fills my lungs, is a new creation, a new outpouring of his boundless generosity that has chosen to give itself to the world as me. It is an honor to be so uniquely loved, isn't it? Every single one of us has that same attention paid to us all the time. We are created anew with every single breath. We just forget it.

Thank you, Lord, for teaching me this lesson, and for all the times you will keep teaching it to me. Thank you for using my bad days to show yourself to me, to draw me to your heart, and to remind me of your love. Abba, this is a good road you have me on, and I trust you as you lead me. You are good.

[tastethegrace]

Week 2, Day 4: Checking In

Another busy day today. Had the opportunity to check in with Jesse a bit.

Fear kept knocking on my door today. Fear of rejection, fear of failure, fear of self-deception...but the stuff I've been meditating on started coming back to me. It made it bearable. I think that might be what I need to expect. The more I meditate, the more likely things are to encourage me in the moment of need. It's not a fix everything system. I'm not sure I expected that it would be, but this at least gives me some sort of standard by which I can measure some progress.

As I'm writing this, I wonder why I need to measure it at all. Perhaps that's my ego getting in the way, wanting everything to be exact.

Either way, I trust God on this one. He's been gracious with me my whole life, and walking with him through this process has only broadened my awareness of that grace. He is good.

[tastethegrace]

Week 2, Day 3: Checking In

Today was very busy. My mind has been constantly occupied. Even through all that, I was able to find a few moments to listen to the passage a few times and do some limited time with meditation. What really stuck out to me today was Merton's humble confidence that God was listening and involved. It made me just a bit more aware that even in the midst of all the things I was doing today, God was aware of me.

It made me think of David's line in Psalm 8: "What is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him?"

Humans are small in the grand scheme of things, yet we are invited into the dance. I am ready for what comes next, even though I don't know for sure what the Lord's will is. I know what he requires of me, though, and I know that I live inside his love. That's enough.

[tastethegrace]

Week 2, Day 2: Check In

This week is shaping up to be very busy, so unless something really gets to me, I probably won't have much to say for the check ins. Still, the purpose of these is to actually gather my thoughts from the day and track what's been on my mind.

Today, I did have some thoughts that stood out, but they weren't for me. So I don't have a lot to share. But I do get the feeling that some thoughts are brewing in the back of my mind, under the surface, so I'll probably have them processed enough to share here soon.

All that being said, though, I love getting a peek inside the humble spirit of Merton in his prayer. It feels simple, just how most good things seem to be. I told a friend earlier that my soul was restless, and it is. I find it hard to remain content in the moment. My mood rises and falls with the circumstances of the day. Stopping to center myself only helps marginally right now, so it's kind of discouraging. Plus, there's the fact that I'm emotionally exhausted from the work last week. But I will press on and keep doing this every single day because I am trying to build a habit. Somehow, God was gracious to me and taught me how to do this with keto. That's the first time in my life I have been disciplined enough to stick to something. I really want that for this, too. We'll see. Whatever the case, Lord, I thank you for today. Thank you for the baby steps of progress I made, even though I cannot see them. Thank you for being with me in my weakness, and showing up as my real strength. You are good, Lord. You are good.