To be Found

In the beginning we have the story of the garden. We see Adam and Eve choose to eat from the forbidden tree. In that moment the heart of God broke. They hid from God, and believed themselves hidden. As if two people could hide themselves from God behind a few trees. When God calls out creation itself was torn apart. “Where are you?” reverberated from the edges of the cosmos and back again an untold number of times. It’s a scream through the void from brokenness and grieving love. A voice that grieved to know why those he loves are fearfully hiding.

Sunrise near Paris

Early Easter morning before dawn, the women arrived at the tomb. The stone was rolled away and their hearts broke again. Their unsettled grief pierced their bodies again. The disciple Magdalene ran for help and returned she again to the tomb – now alone. She fought a real fear. Fear that those in power had destroyed the body. Fear that they were hunting down his disciples to meet the same fate. She chose to be next as she ran back to the tomb. In the tomb she saw the angels and she shared her broken hearted fear between tears – “they have taken my Lord away”.

A man appeared at the entrance and she demanded of him – “where have you put him, I am taking him back.” Her broken heart ready to tear apart creation to be back with the broken body of Jesus. With love in his eyes the man stood in front of her waiting. Waiting to catch her eye. He knew her. He tenderly called to her. Just above a whisper Jesus said her name – “Mary”.

She ran to him. She embraced him to never let go. Jesus was not taken. He was not missing. He was not hiding. He was waiting for her to see him. In joy they wept. They embraced. They stood there as Jesus’ love washed over her. Mary’s love washed over him. After a time Jesus told Mary that she needed to let go. That a forever together is coming, but that would have to wait. Return to the locked upper room. Tell the others. I will see you again soon.

Hope replaced the piercing grief. All she knew was grief since she helplessly watched Jesus drown in his own blood upon a cross.

Indescribable grief into an endless hope at the calling of her name.

He is risen.
He is risen indeed.

Today may we be like the tower of faith, Mary Magdalene. Raw in her emotion and brokenness, she would stop at nothing to embrace her Lord again. Help me Jesus to be like her, and learn from her.


My Heart is Weak

My heart is weak. Yesterday a man overcome by evil killed scores with a truck in Nice, France. I’ve grown tired of being surprised, shocked, or acting as though the attack was unexpected. This is a sad reality of our world today. That a 24-hour news cycle hunts for tragedies affecting a group of people to grab daily attention, and that they have no trouble finding them.

bastille-day-eiffel-towerAs I stood watching the fireworks cascade off the Eiffel Tower last night for Bastille Day I was struck in a new way that I really live here. That the millions of people in Paris are closer to me now than the family I grew up with. I felt pride for the French, and love that I am here with them. I left the park with over a hundred thousand others making our way to the metro to head home. Once home we saw what happened in Nice and waited for more news to trickle in before heading to bed. [Read more…]


Being Molded by my Home


The only home I remember as a child stood firm on a winding cul-de-sac. When I was old enough to care I found out it was bought from the developer who was living in it at the time. It turns out his money had been tied up in the different homes on our street and so he found himself living there until my dad bought it. He was sick with cancer and glad to sell the last house he built to end his life well. If the legend was to be believed it was purchased while my mom was on bedrest with my younger brother, without her knowing.

Since before anything I can recall, I lived in that blue house on the small creek leading to the Minnesota river. [Read more…]


In the Wake of Hate

It’s been a little over 24 hours since the most recent attack in Paris. This was not an isolated event, it was not the first, and will not likely be the last (thought I pray for a long break). There is hurt, pain, and death in life. I believe that the best of humanity surrounds that hurt, pain, and death with compassion and love. However – hurt, pain, and death can easily be forced upon us out of hate.

My call as a Christian is not to condemn, it is not to call for judgement, it is not to raise arms, but to thrust love and compassion back to the center. To embody & remind those around me that love is far more than positive vibes and butterflies. That love takes more than a word, but that word is a commitment.

In light of the attacks in Paris some family and friends have expected our plans might change. They’ll be disappointed to discover we’re still moving. In that our plans have not changed. Yet our future in Paris looks different than it did before Thursday. I feel a pull and call to help lead people back to a center of love for the other in a stronger way than I’ve felt in a long time.

We easily forget how much offense the compassion of Jesus caused. If it was with tax collectors, people believed to be of an inferior race or religion, or agents of the empire. Jesus knew that love existed for them, that no-one is beyond hope, and that everything can change for the better in a moment. The challenge is step into as many moments as possible with compassion and love, aware that their hate may destroy us.