A question about an alternative future

 Do believers in Jesus really care about envisioning a better future?

The podcast of Michael Mezz and Heather Plett/Holding Space are having this conversation. 

But are believers? 

My favorite quote pre-Jesus was "be the change you wish to see in the world" Ghandi- and then I got "freed" from the slavery of work's righteousness, guilt and shame of never doing enough to make the world better/save the world. Jesus saved the world so I don't have to. 

And I still believe that, but now, I want a hope for a better future. And I don't know what my faith is saying about that. 

I need an alternative story, Lord. 

As the bombs drop. 

As the poor suffer. 

As we ignore the pain and buy more. 

Why [it takes so long]

It takes so much longer than I think it should take. 

Completing a task, as on the way to the kitchen I'll do pick up the brush and throw away the accumulated cat hair, followed by loading the dishwasher, returning to my desk, then going back to fill the cup I began with.  

Or making a new habit, paving these important neural routes in my brain to into routine. 

Or de-cluttering, re-organizing, all the accumulated hand-me-downs and inherited things that hold deep meaning and significance. 

Or loving someone, which often begins with taking a breath before I react defensively, or noticing and tending to where I'm feeling pain. 

Why, in this rushed life, am I still so slow at learning and doing what is right. 

What if these missteps are the way, and it is taking exactly as long as it needs to take. 

Slow down, love, and walk, one foot at a time. 

More alive

The February sun is drooping to the horizon like a heavy rind, 

Radiating like a bubbling pot of pumpkin stew,

The golden flicker between the black silhouette of trees

It radiates at an angle so that the snow becomes a blue more like water

More alive.

The sun looks so close and potent, not in the hazy distance, but near and reachable

If I could pluck it up between my fingers, it would drip like flaming honey on my tongue.

Like trees

One day we walked by the shores of the Mississippi together, in the sand by the downed cottonwoods and remains of bonfires. The river that’s still flowing, partly frozen, today, passed the broken hearts, the angry souls, the confused, the disconnected, the fearful. I’m remembering the strength of the river that’s remains but is new and ever changing. May Minneapolis (its people) receive the strength needed be like trees, planted by this river, resilient and watered and growing regardless of the weather. May justice flow like waters. 

The machine

I didn’t have a machine write this

Who can Right this?

I wrote this

I wrote this on a machine: 

but it was not filtered through the machine

Rage against the machine/the institution/the system, 

Are we separate or a part of it? 

Like snow

I want to let you go, like snow

Let you melt and flurry, be compactable or slurry, whatever you need to be 

I want this friendship, long and enduring 

Though I grieve the distance 

Can I accept these conditions?

Let them be,

Like snow 

A story of Evergreen

"Jackson, can I tell you about a Christmas miracle?" asked Auntie Bev.  

"Yes, yes, please! I do like stories" He responded, clasping his hands and rocking back and forth on his bottom. His brother Ollie was laying the floor next to him, stacking blocks. His little brother Theo was mostly putting the blocks in this mouth. 

"Before either of you were born, your parents celebrated their first Christmas together. They kept your mother's tradition of spending the weekend after Thanksgiving decorating for Christmas. They made the pilgrimage to a tree lot with their friends and brought home the perfect tree to their St. Paul apartment.

Now this was a sturdy tree, and right away they placed it in the tree stand with water so the needs wouldn't dry out and fall and make a mess on the floor. They decorated the tree with love and care, ate fresh baked ginger bread cookies and enjoyed classics like John Legend's Christmas."

"So what was the miracle?" Jackson asked, confusion knitting his brow. "That's what we do every year!" Ollie nodded and yawned. Theo drooled. 

"Well of course. But this year, there was a special inheritance from Great-Grandma Spangler; an industrial humidifier. This gift released gallons of mist into apartment's dry December air, and with that rainforest humidity, the tips of the spruce started sprouting lime green growth! 

Growth from a dead ol tree? Well yes sir, that is what happened. And that's the Christmas miracle! Because God can bring life in places we think are dead, and He is always working to show us how much He loves this world" replied Auntie Bev. 

"Oh, okay. But now I have an idea...let's eat cooooookies!" Jackson squealed, and he hopped up on his little feet and ran to the kitchen, Ollie racing him all the way, followed by Theo, and when Auntie Bev finally caught up with them, they enjoyed a scrumptious treat.