I found myself saying this phrase today. It was couched in an afternoon so thick with redemption that you could smell Jesus.
He’s crazy like that, you know.
Crazy enough to bring together a babysitter and a little girl, now in grown up bodies, to share story.
Stories of Harm, and stories of goodness, with silly stories of the every day mixed between.
History, we call it; the stories of Long Ago. This was a space for “her-story”. Infinitely more sacred, and raw and it’s beauty and pain.
These two crazy fishermen were talking one day. Probably the one was asking the other why in the world he had given up the business, when it had been in the family for generations. And all that, to follow a new guy in town that people said was crazy?! Definitely illegitimate at the very least. And in a place where bloodlines matter, that was unforgivable.
And what did the smelly fisherman say?
Come. And. See.
aspen circle near snow bowl, Flagstaff, Arizona
A lament for our Dream Act kids…We were the immigrants once. We are the immigrants today. We are the they.
What if…we stopped drawing lines in the sand between us.
What if…we stopped building walls.
What if…we stopped throwing words like grenades.
What if…we stopped using fear to form laws.
What if…we started daring to turn over Temple tables.
What if…we started with the scroll of good news to the poor.
What if…we started to break our Samaritan neighbor world view.
What if…we started to love our neighbor.
Would justice roll down?
Would swords get repurposed as plowshares?
Would children who took a long trip keep their papers?
Would old sheriffs have to keep the law?
What if the kingdom were to come.
As it is in heaven.
Home where you belong.