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May 28 - July 7, 2020
solemn as a prophet—what if you woke up one morning and were . . . happy?
more than anything, I wanted her—this talented, driven, complicated woman—to wake up sad herself.
It was the anniversary of his best friend’s death, and he was shaken up.
deep down I knew I wasn’t a good person. I wanted my seatmate to stop talking to me, to stop needing me to assure him it would all be fine.
am so tired of noticing,” I wrote. “I am so tired of not being able to shut everything down. If this is a gift from God, it often feels like a curse.”
reclaim the role of someone who critiques the powers of the world and sits in the anguish of the broken world. Someone
future where people do not crush each other for profit but work together for flourishing.
both pleased and miserable at my core longing.
will be a cup filled to the brim with despair and hope, constantly spilling onto everyone around me.
desire for my daughter to know she is loved.
If she doesn’t grow up feeling loved by God, then the rest of her life will be oriented around extracting and exploiting that love from others.
world of fairy tales, of the stories we tell and retell our children, and there is also the world of suffering. Perhaps they are more closely linked than we would like to believe.
live into this tension
How do we cope with things not being right, when we are exposed to the underbelly of the American dream?
What dreamers are we listening to?
world where both devastating things happen (gun violence, abuse, parental neglect, systematic oppression) and also miracles are expected and celebrated constantly.
kinship. Father Boyle is not a fan of self-care; he, like many others, sees burnout coming from a position of the savior complex.
kinship—being intimately connected with another person—changes the equation.
relationships based on compassion, mutuality, and awe don’t lead to burnout.
the beliefs that empires propagate to keep and retain power.
convincing us there is no other path forward except the one where we are always victorious.
tangled up in the same pull toward greatness, toward power, toward viewing ourselves as specially anointed by God to rule the world, to hold and be in charge. This leads to a sense of scarcity, a hallmark of pharaohs throughout the centuries: the all-consuming fear of losing power.
slouching toward Jesus
the locus of fresh and vibrant Christianity is found Latin America, Asia, and Africa, those of us who have been influenced by Great Men and Great Books and Great Theology of the mostly Western civilization kind will be experiencing a death of sorts.
They need to know what they believe and why, because there are no cultural forces supporting them—in
prayer for a death in the neighborhood. “For the unbearable toil of our sinful world, we plead for remission. For the terror of absence from our beloved, we plead for your comfort. For the scandalous presence of death in your Creation, we plead for resurrection.”
the pioneer mythology is more complex, more discreet, less likely to be challenged with an uproar.
who pays for our myths? I want to ask myself that question nearly every day.
he is not responsible for his own death.
simmering both under and over the surface of our supposed progressive utopia.