St. Francis' Prayer

It doesn't matter how many times I pray this in the daily office, it always cuts to the core of what I desire.

Lord, make us instruments of your peace. Where there is hatred, let us sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is discord, union; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy. Grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.

Yet, I also see how far I have to go to live this out. Yahweh Help. If it is not from you it won't happen. Help me die to myself, my selfishness, my selfish desires, and my confused notions of priority. Help me to see your will, your vision of me and for me, and how to live within it.

Momma's Cake

I am writing this post from my Mom and Dad's house in Avon, Indiana, the state that we now call home. We have completed our move from North Carolina, and are excited to be back "home". Indiana has always seemed as if it was home. When Tif and I were in Seminary we always felt that is where we wanted to be long term. Our ministry visions always seemed to be tucked within the Hoosier context. It never has left us.

For years I tried to tell myself that it is just because that is where my family was, or that it was because that is what was familiar to me. I don't believe those things anymore. I believe this is where God has called us to be used. Used to plant a church that might not look like a church to most. Used to live with those I am called to pastor.

It won't be easy. I remember something about "a teacher in his home land". Good thing I am incapable. My inability to do what I am called compells me to lean on the one who is capable.

Well, I have to go, Momma's cake (choco-cake with syryp icing) is finished. There are perks to being home.