Category: Uncategorized

suffering and loss
been counted out of the cost, feeling like you’ve been tossed
out.

luxury is: clean water, clean sheets, clean streets,
Love.
forget alma mater, education for children is triumph

THEN the quake.

the earth shakes, makes space, reduces pace
buildings crumble like towers made by toddlers
bodies collapsed with the rubble, there is no time.
But time to pray.

no time for funerals, no time for mourning, no time for morning
because I’m thirsty. For air, for water, for food, for safety.
Honoring the lost, a cause taken up by others thankfully
Because here – here is survival.
Pray for our survival.

The survival of the fittest, but the fit are hit with it too
Here is equality, though some still grasp for the ladder.
Pray for our weak.

Not simply a quest for survival
celebrating each arrival of supplies like a revival
This is NOT the end, for we who still breathe.
We remember who gives each breath
and He does NOT take it away – no matter what others say.
Remember that when you Pray.

Creation is broken, now more clearly seen
Not a message to be searched for what it means
But what meaning it can be given, through rubble and strife
Humanity. Here we find a snapshot of love and life
in a world uncontrollable.
Pray for stability.

Here come the Superbowl, Valentines, Olympics
Life.
Temptation to forget, or permission to quit
But we can’t do it.
Pray we don’t.

The world is breaking, it’s not done.
God calls us to bring the healing of His Son
Haiti is not “the beginning of the end”
But it can be a new beginning.
Pray.

So I’ve begun reading Eberhard Bethge’s “Dietrich Bonhoeffer – A Biography”. It’s over 1,000 pages long, and a seemingly daunting read. I’ve given myself the year to get through it, though I’m finding it may not take so long. The only thing that may delay me finishing it, is my aversion to being seen in public with such a large book. As if I need something to outwardly confirm my nerd-hood.

It’s a great read, especially for someone who’s just finished a fictional account of Bonhoeffer’s life, and needs something to fill in the cracks and set the record straight. Bethge was also a close friend and student of Bonhoeffer, which enables him to make statements and bring up memories that wouldn’t be possible anywhere else. This is also a revised edition, so many quotes from other Bonhoeffer sources and writings have been added to complete their part of the picture.

Bethge starts, as anyone would, at the beginning. But not simply Dietrich’s beginning. He goes back into the lives of Bonhoeffer’s parents and grandparents. We get a picture of what long-term influences and cultures go into creating the family Dietrich finds himself in. We see a family rich in cultural heritage, very musically inclined, and involved in positions of public influence and leadership. Quiet, firm, disciplined, and yet experiencing the fullness of life in many ways.

Within these first 100 pages, it takes us through the Bonhoeffer family into the years of Dietrich’s studies in college. The more I read about this man, the more relevant his writings, musings, and life become. His passion for ecclesiology (the study of the church), his Love for the bride of Christ, and his genuine/open wondering about a great deal of topics. His thoughts on how the presence of Christ comes to the world in the living community of believers could have come straight from a modern theologian. And these are only the beginning/formative years!!

Yup. I’m a nerd.

He had his knife to my throat. He was yelling his demands, as the sweat beaded on his forehead. A forehead that was larger than most, as balding had begun, but he was by no means an old or out of shape man. And for some reason, he kept a knife larger than Crocodile Dundee’s laying on his dining room table at all times.

Otherwise we would’ve been safe. I looked around the room at the other faces, all terrified at what might happen before this was all over. For some reason, I’d been chosen as the one he would open up to. And demand things from. I casually put my hand in my pocket. MY CELL PHONE!!! Oh man, I knew there had to be a silver lining somewhere. Stupid touchpad though….I couldn’t imagine how I would try and dial 9-1-1 without arousing suspicion.

After some nonchalant back and forth, I was able to divert his attention to something else just long enough for me to dial the numbers with the phone still in my pocket. My only hope was that they would hear what was going on.

Now, he was yelling something new. He wanted me to go out to the driveway, and sit in the front seat of the car. He wanted me to use the phone he hands me (my hand is out of my pocket by now, thankfully…..and I’m praying they can hear what is going on, or at least trace the call), and wants me to transfer money from my bank account into his. I tell him I don’t have that much money IN my account to begin with….but sweaty bald men with a knife at your throat don’t seem to listen to reason much.

I began to walk slowly toward the door. I looked around the room at my family, some blurry people, a few I recognized….all of their faces registered fear and “help us” at the same time. My only hope was that the phone in my pocket had already done what was needed, and I could let the situation enter the hands of the officials soon enough. So he wanted me to go outside and sit in the car where he could see me, eh? Odd request….but he was now threatening someone else….and it was up to me to follow through. Okay…I’ll go.

I was at the doorway, and had just opened the glass storm door….when something caught my hand. I looked down. It was my almost-two-year-old, Sophie. The thumb of her other hand in mouth, and casually looking outside at the darkened neighborhood, she tugged on my hand. As I looked down at her, she looked up at me, removing the thumb from her mouth said, “Daddy, outside!!!???”

I love that even in my weirdest, most intense dreams….Sophie takes advantage of any opportunity to go outside. 🙂 I love my daughters.