Faith & Culture Writers Community

August 8, 2016August 8, 2016

Rusty Bars and Repentant Hearts

Note: We’re reposting Chara Donahue’s blog post because (a) she’s amazing (b) her story of her time at the Prison Outreach / Essay Presentation is honest, heart-wrenching and beautiful (c) we hope this inspires you to join us at this year’s Essay Presentation at Oregon State Penitentiary (that Chara is leading!).

We’re heading there Aug. 25, but you’ll need to sign up by Aug. 10! Click HERE to read more about this outreach and how you can be a part of it!

Out of all the invitations you receive in life, a handful entice with the potential for redemption; sometimes these requests show up in the form of a Facebook event. To truly taste these sweetened moments — the call for obedience must be heeded, or in other words, “Going” clicked. The opportunity to attend the Faith & Culture Prison Outreach Essay Presentation seemed to have these hints of the holy lingering in the background. I decided to explore by taking the first step, securing childcare.

I talked to my husband about the possibility of attending the event at the men’s high-security penitentiary, and after he said things like, “Let me pray about it. Are you sure this is safe?” I responded, “Jesus said, ‘I was in prison and you came to me.'” Then we agreed that he would watch our brood of four while I attended the event, words in hand.

Words that I had been pondering, polishing, and praying would speak to hearts. When I agreed to go I asked, “Should it be something l had already written or brand new?” It had to be both glorifying to a mighty God who’s ways are far beyond our own, and relatable to those who have been locked away for years. I kept praying about it, and one day on the elliptical at the gym, I knew.

I started crying — at the gym.

I was that person others questioned whether it would be better to help or to avoid, but I knew what I was sensing was from God. If any, I figure that is an acceptable reason to lose it in public. I hoped people would think my tears were sweat, opened up my notes app, and began to write the moments out while I ran. Later I took the gibberish of my notes, and wrote the tale I had not told before. One about a little girl who picked up the collect call delivering the news that a man she cherished, was locked up.

I met the rest of the Faith & Culture crew that were going outside the small entrance to the foreboding prison. Together we went through multiple security checks, waited for bars to slide open and clank closed, and met well over 100 prisoners attempting to improve their lives through the 7 step program. I stepped up to the microphone praying I wouldn’t cry. I made it through without breaking, but as I looked around the cold, payphone-lined room, I saw that some of those men had taken up the mantle of tears for me.

As I stood up there and told a tale of reconciliation, healing, and forgiveness framed by mountain climbing and prayers prayed, I saw the spirit of God bring rest, hope, and action to the lives of men who wondered about their families often. The other writers brought inspirational and encouraging tales as well, each one of our stories meeting different men that night in sacred places hidden behind steely bars. Men who were gracious, considerate, and kind to us, as we spoke with them after the readings.

They let us into their stories, many told us of their own wrestlings with the law, family dynamics, and God. Some were encouraged, some were broken, and some came asking, “What should I do?” Many told us they look forward to this every year and raved about Faith & Culture’s founder Cornelia Seigneur. By sharing a sliver of my own self that I won’t be disclosing to the internet, I was invited into the deep stories of others, peppered by the harsh realities of their human experience. I was also ushered into conversations covered with glory, hope, and redemption.

It feels risky to offer vulnerability to a room full of strangers, especially men the judicial system has found guilty, but it feels even more perilous to deny God the offerings he asks for, because of what will be missed in withholding. I can see their faces still, I can see how the power of God met them, and I can pray for them. That night, intertwined sagas whispered freedom to those whose bodies might be captive but whose souls could be liberated.

I am grateful for the experience, hoping to return next year, and am still amazed at the ways I found Jesus dwelling amongst the rusty bars, concrete walls, and repentant hearts.

Chara is a freelance writer, certified biblical counselor, and speaker. She holds a MSEd from Corban University and is passionate about seeing people set free through God’s truths. She loves to write about faith, culture, and the deep truths that drive our fascinations with it. Chara is the founder and editor of Anchored Voices and can be found on multiple social media platforms @CharaDonahue.

March 8, 2016March 8, 2016

Five things I’ve learned from Blogging by Jody Collins

“All things great are wound up with all things little.” Anne of Green Gables, L.M. Montgomery

When I went back to school to become a teacher at the ripe young age of 36, I joined a growing wave of what was known as ‘re-entry students.’ Our particular wave was comprised of young men, business folk and young moms like myself. The credential program consisted of getting a four year degree then embarking on the California state-mandated ‘fifth year’ training.

This fifth year included intense study in all manner of things educational, intern time in classrooms and the opportunity to put all the nuts and bolts of what I’d learned into actual practice. I finished that year with a 6 month stint Student Teaching in Kindergarten and lived to tell it. Then they handed me my credential and said I could go change the world.
It’s been 25 years since that credential–now I’ve decided to change the world one word at a time. Here are 5 things I’ve learned as I begin Blogging, Year 5:

IT’S PEOPLE, NOT PLATFORMS The best way to build readership is to build relationships.

If you participate in a weekly link up, make it a practice to say a virtual ‘hello’ to the folks who’ve posted on either side of you in the Link up. Over time, they may click back on your comment and come by to your site. You’ll begin to recognize certain ‘voices’ and the writers whose words resonate with your own.

You may also find some remarkable connections with strangers who become friends–either virtual or in person. In the last 5 years I’ve found the community of blogging has been as real to me as the folks in my congregation at church. It has bee a real treat to meet actual people for coffee or lunch or at a Writer’s Conference and add some flesh to the friendship.
I also subscribe to a handful of blogs and comment and encourage them as regularly as I can. It’s so nice to be noticed. “Why, someone read what I said! And it touched them!” Imagine how thrilled you are to find that about your own work–you can do the same for others whose words you are drawn to. Find someone to bless that doesn’t have a lot of comments on their posts and drop a line or two. It’ll make their day.

DO IT WRONG-WRITE LESS, NOT MORE —The first year I started blogging—2012—I entered 143blog posts. By the end of 2015 I had written 85 blogposts. I’m not awesome at math, but that’s almost 40% less than when I started. When I began, I was feverishly trying to keep up with weekly link ups that were so popular at the time and listening to all the advice out there about how to ‘do it right.’
Every year I’ve been blogging I’ve written LESS than the year before and I have more people reading and responding. Go figure. I also have deeper relationships with my readers, choosing that over going wide and shallow. (see #1 “People, not Platforms’ above). 3. CONSISTENCY IS HIGHLY OVERRATED**. YOU DO NOT HAVE TO POST ON YOUR BLOG TWICE A WEEK. Being sporadic is okay. Putting yourself on a schedule is not only grueling but feels insincere; you end up writing ‘fluff’ instead of substance, filling the space for that week or time because you have to. And here’s the reality—if you are Random/Abstract processor and thinker (as I am) there is going to be nothing regular or sequential or consistent about the way you work. Personally, I try to be consistent about only one thing—to make Jesus look good through my words.

That being said, I DO have a couple of series I post in regularly–something new, a “Favorite Things” round up, always on Friday, but not every Friday. And my “Just Because” posts–a Scripture and a photo–always on Thursdays, but not EVERY Thursday. ‘Sporadic’ is probably a better descriptor of any blogging ‘formula’ I have. Bottom line–trust God’s voice to guide you, trust your own voice to write when and how you feel prompted. You don’t have to do everything because the experts say you ‘should.’ (see #2 ‘Do it Wrong’ above).

WRITE REAL, NOT RELIGIOUS (see #3, ‘insincerity’ above). The first six months I was in the Christian blogosphere I poured on the churchiness and Christianese. I wanted to dazzle with my brilliance, shine with incomparable spiritual knowledge, impress with mighty metaphors. My first postswere embarrassingly long. What’s my point? To paraphrase, I believe, Mother Teresa, “People don’t care how much you know, they want to know how much you care.”
The words that resonate the most with your readers will be ones you write honest and real, a ‘Day in the Life’ of how you walk out what you know about Jesus. One week I could be talking about my sparkly Sunday shoes or the day Jesus gave me a Conga drum. Or I might write a blog post about my daughter’s miscarriage. Sometimes the world is gray, sometimes the world is beautiful, sometimes it’s just hard. God is a part of all of it.

5. SMALL MIGHT BE JUST RIGHT. Maybe blogging is a part-time interest for you, as it is for me. Or maybe you’ve got time to pour all your energies into it. It’s imperative to define what your version of ‘successful’ is. What are your goals? To build readership to 5,000 followers? To have 1,000 pageviews a week? Write a book? Be well-known? It takes a LOT of time, energy, attention and commitment, but it can be done. Sometimes small might be better.

BONUS: Writer’s block dogging you? HAVE FUN or Take a Sabbath Go for a walk, unload the dishwasher, take a shower (the most remarkable revelations come to me in the shower or under the bathroom faucet!) Sort the laundry, go pull some weeds. Your brain does so much better with some exercise, fresh air, some fun—blow bubbles, sit outside and watch the birds, dance by yourself, dance with a partner…the list is endless.

~Live your life then write it down~

***
Here’s what poet Luci Shaw has to say on the idea of disciplines in writing–an Interview with Ruminate Magazine
NOTE: The above is an edited version of this original post.

—————————————

Jody Collins served as the volunteer coordinator of the 2015 Faith & Culture Writers Conference. Find her work here: Jody Collins

February 15, 2016August 8, 2016

A Faith & Culture Sabbatical

When we started the Faith & Culture Writers Conference in 2011 at Western Seminary in Portland, our initial idea was to offer our creative event every other year at alternating higher education institutions. As the years went on, the passion for the Faith & Culture Writers Conference grew beyond the Pacific Northwest, and we began attracting attendees from across the country. Advisory board members and key team leaders suggested we reconsider our timeframe, and return a year later rather than wait two years.

Humbled and honored by the positive enthusiasm and support we began holding our conference yearly, and this last one in 2015, we even added a mini retreat to the program as well as a creative art space. And, another highlight: Rachael Thomas created this beautiful masterpiece during our two-days together. So much beauty which was reflected in our awesome feedback this year. We heard: “Faith & Culture changed my life,” “This is such a life-giving event,” “You’ve helped me launch my writing dreams,” and “I’ve found my people in you.”

Yet, 2015 was a trying year for me and this year continues to be a struggle. As most of you know, I was in a near-fatal accident suffering a brain injury in January 2015; and it was only because of the FCWC leadership team rallying together, that we were was able to pull off the 2015 event in April. It truly was God, who has always been our focus.
After the 2015 conference, as I have continued to try and focus on healing and my family and the rest of my life, I have slowly been meeting with lead team members, advisors and FCWC cheerleaders, both veteran and new, to regroup, reimagine, plan and dream for future FCWC events. I knew I needed to step back this year.

After much consideration and prayer, brainstorming about possibilities, we have decided to rest for the remainder of 2016, and look to 2017 for our next Faith & Culture Writers Conference.

We are calling it a Faith & Culture Sabbatical.

I am so incredibly grateful for the wonderful people who have come along to bring this wonderful conference to the creative community of faith. They are lifelong friends and I will never forget their hours upon hours of service. So many others have made this conference possible. I am also incredibly thankful for the various higher education institutions that have hosted us. It takes a lot to put a conference on!
Thank you for your encouragement, your prayers, your ideas, your support, your help, your believing in the vision. You are all part of our Faith & Culture Community.

In the mean time, other creative conferences have been reaching out to us to cross-promote their events, so we will let you know via our social media accounts and our blog.
And, if you are in the local PORTLAND, OREGON area, be sure to join us for our monthly Writers Connection. Our 2014 and 2015 conference emcee Velynn Brown, who came up with the word Sabbatical for our year of rest, is our new Writers Connection co-leader. We now alternate locations each month, between Rolling Hills Community Church in Tualatin, Oregon, and Genesis Community Fellowship in Northeast Portland. Our next meeting is Wed. March 17 at Genesis, featuring Paul Pastor, and in April, we return to Rolling Hills (Thursday April 21). Thursday, May 19 we have our end of the year celebration, location, TBA!

We will be keeping our blog going, so please consider contributing a piece! Email: faithcultureteam@gmail.com

Keep in touch, with questions, email:
faithcultureteam@gmail.com

Our Social Media handles:

Twitter: @FaithCultureArt
Instagram: @FaithCultureArt
Facebook: www.facebook.com/FaithCultureWriters
And, to end, I share with you our first theme verse from our inaugural event in 2011, one that keynote speaker Paul Louis Metzger gave us:

“But if I say, “I will not mention his word or speak anymore in his name,” his word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot.”
– Jer. 20: 9

Share your story; the story God has given you, His story in you! And tell us and the world when you do! Do keep in touch.

[Note: WORDS art created by Martin French. Dove art created by Rachael Thomas]

January 15, 2016May 17, 2016

Last Year I declared “I am a writer.” This year. . .

By Chara Donahue

Last February, I was certain God had prompted me to join Twitter and start a blog. These are weird things God, I prayed, but whatever you say.

It is a habit of mine to ask God at the end of any conference, “What step of obedience should I take in response to what I have heard?” Normally, it is something a bit more understandable, like remove this thing from your life, help this person, or serve in this area.

Starting the blog fell under service, but in a way that was quite unfamiliar to me. Could my writing hobby really be used to bring glory to my Savior? I have learned to give what He is asking even when the submission falls into curious realms. I would rather be where God is moving, than to reason away what I do not understand. For it is in that space that marvel and wonder abound.

Grabbing a $5 blogger template from Etsy and shortly after joining Twitter, I took those first steps of faith that are often the hardest.

I began following a smattering of people on Twitter, and saw that Kari Patterson, a writer who had been gracious enough to give me some tips, was going to be speaking at the Faith & Culture Writer’s Conference. For Christmas my husband had gifted me a weekend away to work on my creative endeavors, and this appeared to be the perfect opportunity to cash in on his generosity.At this point, I had published a couple of posts and had rejoiced about my first freelance piece being accepted.

I realized, if I was going to go and sit amongst those who spread beauty by putting words to page, it was time to admit I was one of them.

Acknowledging this simple truth freed me to see a new reality; what qualified me to be a writer – is that I write. No lofty author had to bestow the title upon me; I didn’t need to have a book published, and there wasn’t some foreboding checklist taunting with what I must do next.

Writers, write. It isn’t about numbers or publications, but living out a God-ordained purpose for which I was created. I had to ask myself: was I willing to trust?

This venture has eclipsed all expectations, and dwarfed even my wildest anticipations. I have seen God use my words. I have been privileged to meet other writers and read what God has given them to say. I am a regular contributor on four different websites and have guest posted all over the place. A year ago I wasn’t dreaming of this, but God was leading me to it. All I had to do was give Him my yes.

As this new year begins – I am dreaming, setting goals, meeting regularly with others in the Faith and Culture circles, and lifting it all up with open hands in prayer. Whatever is to come, I want to maintain the simplicity of I will trust and obey. Whether it is more freelance work or less, the completion of a book proposal or a manuscript, or a time of rest and inspiration, I want to live in the divine tension of everything God wants for me, and from me, and will settle for nothing less.

The whispers of doubt have not fallen completely silent; I still wonder if God really cares about which social media platforms I choose to utilize. Does He really care if I keep my words to myself, or If I allow others to see them? Does He really care about this expanding facet of my life?

He does.

He wants to be in it all, at all times. And this hobby, He has chosen to make it more. He imparts the gifts we are called to use for blessing others. He helps others find hope in words delivered through my pen by His spirit.

For long before I chose to call myself a writer my God fashioned me a scribe. Would I dare tell the God of the universe, “You can have my hands but not my pen?”

“Writer” Chara Donahue’s work can be found at: Chara Donahue

August 26, 2015August 27, 2015

Writing ministry outreach to the Oregon State Penitentiary

^{Matt 25: 35-40″}

By Cornelia Seigneur

Our Writing Ministry Outreach at the Oregon State Penitentiary for our Annual Essay Presentation with the 7th Step Foundation is Thursday August 27. Thank you to those who signed up. For those who are attending (pre-approved through the prison), we are carpooling together from Rolling Hills Community Church, 3550 SW Borland Rd., Tualatin, meeting at 4:15 p.m. For those meeting us there, the event starts at 5:30 pm at the Oregon State Pen, 2605 State Street, Salem, Oregon. Email corneliaseigneur@comcast.net or call/text 503-318-3480.

Remember to wear: No prison blues or metal.

The theme for this year’s essay presentation is tied to the Oregon State Pen’s 7th Step Foundation’s Mission Statement: Helping OSP inmates to reduce recidivism through mental fitness and issues pertaining to criminal thinking, and transitional services. Our Mission is to provide information and resources to bring about change within the individual that will enable them to live a pro-social lifestyle.
Essay topics can center on topics like: empathy, change, hope, giving back, and community will work, but are not limited to these examples.

7th Step Foundation Goals:
-To provide members with cognitive skill tools to change their lives for the better.
-To enable members to return to their communities with new insight, confidence and skills.
-To facilitate the value of giving back to the community through fundraisers. Such endeavors help one to heal and give back to their victims indirectly.

Essays should be about 7 minutes tops and story/narrative driven.

August 7, 2015August 7, 2016

Rusty Bars and Repentant Hearts

Today, we’re reposting Chara Donahue’s blog post. Why? Because (a) she’s amazing (b) her chronicle about her experience at ministry is moving, honest (c) we hope this inspires you to join us for this year’s Essay Presentation.

We’re heading to Oregon State Penitentary Aug. 25. Deadline to sign up is FRIDAY, AUG. 10! Click here to for more details about the trip and how

I talked to my husband about the possibility of attending the event at the men’s high-security penitentiary, and after he said things like, “Let me pray about it. Are you sure this is safe?” I responded “Jesus said, ‘I was in prison and you came to me.'” Then we agreed that he would watch our brood of four while I attended the event, words in hand.

I started crying—at the gym.

I was that person others questioned whether it would be better to help or to avoid, but I knew what I was sensing was from God. If any, I figure that is an acceptable reason to lose it in public. I hoped people would think my tears were sweat, opened up my notes app, and began to write the moments out while I ran. Later I took the gibberish of my notes and wrote the tale I had not told before. One about a little girl who picked up the collect call delivering the news that a man she cherished, was locked up.

I met the rest of the Faith & Culture crew that were going outside the small entrance to the foreboding prison. Together we went through multiple security checks, waited for bars to slide open and clank closed, and met well over 100 prisoners attempting to improve their lives through the 7th Step program. I stepped up to the microphone praying I wouldn’t cry. I made it through without breaking, but as I looked around the cold, payphone-lined room, I saw that some of those men had taken up the mantle of tears for me.

As I stood up there and told a tale of reconciliation, healing and forgiveness framed by mountain climbing and prayers prayed, I saw the spirit of God bring rest, hope and action to the lives of men who wondered about their families often. The other writers brought inspirational and encouraging tales as well, each one of our stories meeting different men that night in sacred places hidden behind steely bars. Men who were gracious, considerate and kind to us as we spoke with them after the readings.

They let us into their stories, many told us of their own wrestlings with the law, family dynamics and God. Some were encouraged, some were broken and some came asking, “What should I do?” Many told us they look forward to this every year and raved about Faith & Culture’s founder Cornelia Seigneur. By sharing a sliver of my own self that I won’t be disclosing to the internet, I was invited into the deep stories of others, peppered by the harsh realities of their human experience. I was also ushered into conversations covered with glory, hope, and redemption.

I am grateful for the experience, hoping to return next year, and am still amazed at the ways I found Jesus dwelling amongst the rusty bars, concrete walls and repentant hearts.

Bio: Chara is a freelance writer, certified biblical counselor, and speaker. She holds a MSEd from Corban University and is passionate about seeing people set free through God’s truths. She loves to write about faith, culture, and the deep truths that drive our fascinations with it. Chara is the founder and editor of Anchored Voices and can be found on multiple social media platforms @CharaDonahue.

June 2, 2015October 19, 2015

“Stats” or Bridge?

by Jan Johnson

A couple of weeks ago I blogged about my book giveaway drawing… you know, the drawing nobody entered?

Well, I wrote about it partly to tell you where the book ended up, and partly in the interests of full disclosure–I don’t want to give a false impression that I’m some wildly popular, successful blogger or anything. But later I re-read the post and thought it may have sounded a bit… whiny.

I hate whining.

I should write a post, I thought, to emphasize that I’m okay with my small start and am definitely not whining. But I got busy and didn’t write it… yet…

Then I went to the Faith and Culture Writers retreat and conference in Portland, as I described last week. Excellent speakers taught on a wide variety of topics relevant to us creatives. Looking back over my notes, I found one common thread that appeared, one way or other, in every single talk. Here’s the gist of it:

To really connect with your readers you must know your identity and write authentically from your passion. Do not chase market trends or compare yourself to anyone else.

No kidding, this idea popped up in every session, from “Embrace Your Inner Weird” to “Learning from Great Literature” to “Ten Things I Hate About Your Blog.” After hearing it twelve or fifteen times, phrased in a variety of ways, it made quite an impact on me. (I may have mentioned that during the conference I suffered from information overload. Otherwise it might have had that impact sooner.)

I don’t obsess about the number of subscribers my blog has. Besides the “comparison” thing, blog statistics are pretty much meaningless anyway. Many people click “subscribe” if they see one post they kind of like, or if they want to sell me something–and they never come back. One time someone followed my blog, leaving this comment on one of my especially heartfelt, carefully crafted posts:

“Follow back?”

Did she even read any of the post?

That lack of depth or engagement sends a message: “Jan, you are just a commodity this person wants to use.”

A four-digit number of followers would feel good, but only if those individuals benefit from what I have to say. I want to build a bridge between myself and my readers and, hopefully, between us and Christ. So why pump up my statistics with two thousand people who have spent no more than fifteen seconds–ever–with my blog? As near as I can figure, it’s better to connect with two dozen real live people who actually, you know, enjoy some of my posts.

Like Marlece, f’rinstance–mom of four boys in Washington state. She documents the joy and wackiness in her blog “Son Up ‘Til Son Down.” We connected online, and got to meet when I was in the area for the conference. After encouraging each other for a couple of years, I can’t tell you how satisfying it was to see her and deliver a real, live, warm, 3-D hug right there in Starbucks! She writes authentically and from her passion. As we talked I found I already knew her. She is just as wise and wonderful in person as I’d thought.

That’s how I want to write, too. So, if you’ve read this far, know that I truly love sharing my hectic, goofy and often-discombobulated life with you. You are the one I write for, and again I say…

…thanks for reading.
Seriously!
Jan

Connect with Jan:

Website

May 28, 2015August 26, 2015

Stirred and Settled

by Jan Johnson

I’d been looking forward to it for months: the Faith & Culture Conference for writers and other creatives. We met last weekend at Warner Pacific College, on the edge of Mt. Tabor in Portland, Oregon.

Brent and I actually flew out to Portland a week early to visit our two sons, their wives and our grandson, all of whom have relocated to the Pacific Northwest in the last year. Good times!

The whole region is gorgeous, hills bursting with plant life including enormous Christmas trees and tons of flowers. The lakes and rivers were full of water, which almost seems weird to a Texan whose state has been in drought mode for, what, four or five years?

The city of Portland thrums with an exuberant, youthful vibe. Artfully dressed people in all their picturesque hipness were everywhere. (Sometimes a middle-aged small-town grandma needed to go look at a blank wall for a minute. I just couldn’t keep up, you know?)
But the pre-conference retreat, and the conference itself… whoa. Fabulous times of worship. We drank deep from a fountain of pure joy. Honest conversations, learning over and over that “I’m not the only one!” Making new friends, some of whose convictions, values or doctrinal beliefs differ from mine.

On the flight home to Dallas I spent some time considering the “Big Takeaway” — What had God said to me overall about my life as a writer and especially as a believer?

I’m glad you asked.

Most importantly, I heard the warning not to mistake my own tradition, paradigm or interpretation for biblically sound doctrine. My belief could be misinformed. My doctrinal position could actually be (gasp!) wrong. Or at least a matter of individual conscience.

On the other hand, depending on the topic and context, my particular belief or conviction could be right. While it’s certainly healthy to question old traditions, it’s equally healthy to question specific ideas generated in a youthful, freestyle, “anti-tradition” paradigm.

After all, we wouldn’t want to throw out the nuggets of holy truth along with the gravel of tradition and personal preference. As Peter points out in 2 Peter 1:20-21, “But know this first of all, that no prophecy of Scripture is a matter of one’s own interpretation, for no prophecy was ever made by an act of human will, but men moved by the Holy Spirit spoke from God.”

Either way, pursuing doctrinal correctness is not enough. I must also make sure my heart, my attitude, are right. I must seek my brothers’ and sisters’ highest good, with humility and love and respect for their sincerity.

I learned tons of stuff about writing, too, but I won’t burden my longsuffering readers with those concepts. Besides, marvelous bits of wisdom kept coming at me… so fast that too many escaped before I could jot them down. So my notebook is a little disjointed.

I’ll sign off for now, with loving greetings from the heart of Texas, y’all.

Thanks for reading,
Jan

Connect with Jan:

Website

May 26, 2015July 16, 2015

When Cracks Show us the Glory of God

by Ashley Hales

Shivering in this northwesterly wind, I sit on the edge of dirt and pavement: this juxtaposition between organic and man-made. This concrete worn and utilitarian next to the unadorned simplicity – almost vulgarity – of the dirt. We are stuff just as these. Stones pulverized and fashioned into meaning. Organic material who hide behind makeup and jewelry and our bios. But we’re all just dust and ashes. All here to serve a God so much bigger and more incomprehensible than ourselves. A God who hung the stars in galaxies we haven’t yet discovered; a God who created atoms and molecules and things we can’t comprehend. For what? For the joy of it.

For delight. (That’s what Henry James taught me – the delight in language, in the glory of the small pieces forming intricate beings called sentences that curl and twist and in which we live and move and have our being).

That there is something about glory that fills and moves spaces; that it is self-assured in its perfection because it is perfection that comes from humility, from sacrifice.

For a Kingdom that breaks through these cracks in the sidewalk or speaks to me out of the dirt, is a Kingdom that is not about utility. It is a Kingdom that glories and dignifies the small, that notices the simple – that says a hair or a sparrow are currency in this Kingdom.

In college there was a singer-songwriter who sang a song based on Isaiah 55, “You who have no money, come buy and eat” and it made no sense to me then. This Kingdom where glory comes in brokenness, where glory breaks in through the stuff of dirt and sidewalks, where glory is a free meal.– where glory fills the ordinary with good things – this, this is where I want to live.

It is only here, in this Kingdom of concrete and dirt, where I am fully free. In this moment there is life, life more abundant and full and overflowing than my degrees or accomplishments. And it comes inching towards me as an offering while the thoughts about all those people who I am responsible for, for the pain and heartaches and miscommunications come racing in. But I’ve been given this moment.

It, too, is an offering of dirt and concrete. And it, too, is delight.

Connect with Ashley Hales:

Website | Twitter

May 23, 2015July 16, 2015

What it Looks Like to Find Home (yet again)

by Ashley Hales

We almost moved to Portland in 2009 to do an apprenticeship with a church. We fell in love. We wanted to be downtown people. We wanted to walk on lazy Saturday mornings with a cup of hand-crafted coffee and browse in Powell’s. We ached for urbanism, books, meaning, and craft beers. We longed for the coming together of pubs and stories; of the gospel and hipsters; of beauty and brokenness. And then it turned to ashes. We didn’t move. And we felt like death. Six years later, this last weekend, I returned to Portland and even in the span of three days and three nights, I am resurrected.

I am more fully alive, more fully myself, more a member of a tribe than I dreamt possible. There is a quiet back and forth between the prophetic fire I feel stretching for release inside of me and the long, slow soul-digging necessary to make a life of writing work. And it all is good work. Because now I believe I have a community of soul friends; where, hunched over drinks around a table, even though we come from different backgrounds and theological viewpoints, we are home. There, around the table, we are most fully ourselves, most fully alive. Because home was never about being right. Home is belonging. Home is where we hash out who we are and what we believe; but surrounding that process, is a womb of protection. Home is where we can be messy, scared, broken, angry. And a true home can hold us as we thrash about as we are birthed into ourselves.

I found a little slice of home there in the drizzly northwestern rain. I found a home by myself, sandwiched between earth and concrete, feeling as much a part of one as the other. I found home in a Kingdom that is wide and deep and long and a breath of air. I found home in words that filled me, where I marveled at beauty and truth wrapped around one another like lovers. I found home in the eyes of my friends, when I could listen to their hurt, to their cries of lament from systemic oppression; or where I could weep at the violence done to them because they were sacrifices to a system. These are systems based on fear or control, where the image of God becomes something to squelch and squash, like my toddler squishes Play-Doh back into its plastic tin. I found home in the words of meandering faith journeys, where we hold holy space open for each other. I found home in my tears. Portland birthed me. Me. Not in my writerly garb, but just me.

I have some resolutions of sorts, some lessons to take away and tape up to my bathroom mirror, to remind myself what I will do: I will dig gently. But I will dig. I will tell myself the truth of the middle day. That there is dusk and there is dawn and at these threshold moments we are the verge of beholding glory. I will see. I will pause, slow down and not rush to resolution. My first duty is to see. I will proclaim truth. I will point others to glory. And, I will show them home.

This was Ashley’s first time attending the Faith & Culture Writers Conference. She blogs at: Website