March 2010 archives

My mother-in-law recently sent me this great article by the teacher Beth Moore. If you don't know who she is, she wrote a book called Breaking Free which is a very simple Bible study that teaches you how to use the words of truth in the Bible as proclamations. There is one thing Beth Moore knows, and that is scripture--she knows that it is the best weapon of all.

The article was an interview about her new book So Long, Insecurity, which is all about her path to overcoming insecurity and how other women, especially, can overcome it as well. I think this book is very, very timely. (And I love the subtitle: "you've always been a bad friend to us".) Although I've always kind of felt that insecurity was a "thing", nowhere has anyone named insecurity as an enemy, a "thing" that is wielded against us. Once some kind of false reality is named, our discernment of it gets greater, our weapons against it get sharper.

The minute we ate from the tree, insecurity was there to hold our hand.

Adam answered, "I heard you in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid."   And God said, "Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten from the tree that I commanded you not to eat from?"

The word for naked here is "erom", which is usually used in places that indicate shame, exposure and bared-ness. It is distinct from "arum", a word used earlier in Genesis to indicate something naked or not typically clothed. So the nakedness that they were before they ate, and the nakedness they felt after they ate were distinct. It's interesting in that the word "arum"--which is what Adam and Eve were upon their creation--doesn't necessarily mean unclothed. It's quite possible--and I believe--that Adam and Eve were clothed with light, with a type of divine garment. If we were created in his image, and he is clothed with garments of light and majesty, his image of himself probably was, too.

Whatever they were stripped of, whether psychologically or physically, left them feeling bare. "Feeling bare" is another way of defining insecurity. Insecurity is feeling vulnerable, subject to harm, or dangerous sensitivity to one's surroundings. Their nakedness per se was not the issue--the feeling of being vulnerable to harm was.

Perhaps they were not stripped of their light-laden clothing at all, but they felt they were. And insecurity has been our first line of thought since that point.

I can't wait to read more of her book because I have thought about this quite a bit and struggled with it my whole life. I've overcome a lot of insecurity in the last 10 years, and I'm really with her in how frustrating it is to watch every woman I know struggle with it. (Her website declares: "We're insecure. You and me and every woman. In fact, chronic insecurity is a cultural epidemic, but almost no one is talking about it. And it ticks me off.") I just love it when a Baptist teacher gets ticked off. It's about time.

Her website has a great idea: symbolically saying goodbye to insecurity by sending off a "so long, insecurity post". It's kind of mind-blowing--a collective blog where women are naming their insecurity demons. I've always known that when something I am struggling with has a name and a face, when it is pin-pointed, it is out in the light. That is half the battle--then I know what I am resisting. And it will flee.

Gary Sange, a poet with poetry for wallpaper
Shared this poem first back then-
The one about ponies dark kind eyes beside a highway
Somewhere I don't remember.
There was twilight slowly bounding forth
And some other tone to that evening
Which came often into that classroom
For those of us who still cared
Beneath the false florescent lights of learning.
Still, something about the nature and position of his passion
Transfixed us into some other dwelling, far
From buildings and closer to our beings.
Some time even earlier in our lives
We had noticed the gentle caresses between animals- and the geometry of animal flight
And imagined the soft suction of those pilot fish beneath the bellies
Of a thousand sharks in some unseen fathomless place.
It was like that--scuba diving tenderly into an uncaged zoo
Of what we really knew
For each of us!

Consecrated Desire

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Like a music box with fire inside
Desire, waits, then springs open
Unhinged
The dancer comes loose, and
Swirling through flames
Finds her maker
And things are never the same

We are afraid of desire
For when it burned unarmed, unmanned
It brought wrath
It harmed self and all else
It was unruled then.

But what if, desire itself
Were baptized by love
And came up pure as a dove,
Or a dancer clothed in incense. Then,
Pure desire would walk the wire only
To heaven, and say, breathlessly,
"God's desire is the only hinge
Holding history!"

the epistemology of light

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I cannot be taken away from.
He has made me as I am-
connected ray or beam passing through
invisible chasm, over
the contours of a heart i cannot see.
A path in Him can only be
a wavelength, never interrupted...
Enjoy me, or not; be illuminated or bored
I do not care anymore
the roads above are made of light

I am here as I am, to shine-
Multifarious diademic gem on His Staff, or a diamond mine
somewhere
On His robe, nearby His Heart.
And I will glow because of my location there
Because He enjoys it as sunrise passing
through the thread of dusk
And I will serve with myself; this husk will be a prism!

I am translucent
His Wisdom turns
the right color towards you
His emblazoned words emit
in a complimentary way

I am a translator of light, and
Light knows by shining. This
Is the epistemology of light

New Resources

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I apologize for my relative silence around our blog lately. (Although Derek's been writing some great poems!) It's been a busy year, full of maintenance of all of our existing projects and life's busy-nesses (is that a word? now it is). I'm making no huge promises here, but I have been writing a bit more and am working on a new blog with my own non-Bearable Light writing and art. I'm also at the beginnings of another book. I'll let y'all know when that gets off the ground.

In the meantime, we were thinking of opening comments on some entries on the blog. We've never done that before, but sometimes it's fun to get feedback. I guess we could experiment and see how it goes.

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I had a topic on my heart this week that I felt like exploring here. It has to do with new resources, and this is something that Derek and I have been struggling with and through lately, but somehow I think it is relevant to more than just our own lives. From just speaking with other friends and observing some trends in the church, it seems like many are in a period of transition.

from a park in berlin

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Sipping Champagne in berlin

It's not easy sipping champagne in berlin
Or anywhere really now,
But this day I had to.

Like a thousand Sunday afternoons-this one
Crystal-toned on my skin by now, or burnt
On my bones, or pressed into my palms, is
A Berlin park by water.

No one can imagine this gift-
Verdant city park, agleam in history
Shelled by shrapnel, and now fashion shows
Still brazenly gleaming as if nothing
Could kill it! And me sipping joy
In the midst of her

As if the sun were not enough,
The father Himself shows up
downloading glory for free--apple trees
and fresh cherry blossoms-a young girl dipping her hands
in the stream beside me.

the wisp of me, floating in the metallic memory of Germany

He, refusing to leave Himself or this city
Or me, instead tells us our story-
Gory parts not excluded. Glory parts
Unexpected!

As if the Father refused
To leave this mighty place of being
in Himself!

So, for me,
This park is a poppy resting in my palm, or His,
after boots have trampled orange petals into blood
what is left is love of us
for some unseen reason, and

On a Sunday afternoon, this park quietly proclaims:
Something within waits,
Regardless of wars, to burst forth!

This flower dust on my fingers today
(if that is what it is)
Is worth all the ink in the world!
And these bubbles in my crystal glass
are worth all these troubles.

Barely a poem...

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Barely a poem, about myself and God

Covered in mirrors, I am a fleck, He
Looks upon to be
Reminded of His own flourishing radiance

I don't know why he made me shine
for his pleasure.

Perhaps I was a toy in the manger
For the little Jesus to play with--I hope so!

There are spirits who are jealous of sheer sheen.
But then, it is hard to steal glisten-
Like diving in,
Hands-open
to grab the glisten of sunset on stream surface.


Perhaps, clothed in mirrors,
I was a disco ball in the womb,
Lighting up the inner workings of origin
And,
This in-sight, started there,
In an inner illumination.

In the beginning, the spirit hovered, then the light dove in
To the fathoms, illuminating The Father's mystery--suddenly, it beheld itself!

Do I get to participate in that flashlight moment
of Him gazing at Himself?
Creativity, birth--the mysterious womb-waters of origin;
Yes! That is my place.

God hung disco balls in the hearts of humanity
And I am one! That's fine, I will do that, I will be
That part of Him! There is nuclear pleasure in this!

The epistemology of light is to shine
Endlessly...

Amen Again prayer

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Forgive me for not being as big as you made me
I will improve if more of You shows up!
I will get fuller, I promise, and strong--and expand to renovate the stars.

Until then, preserve the stupid by Your Wisdom
Put us in you--hide us until others see nothing
but what happens
When you come into a person--that supernova instant
birthing into the specific contours of our shine.

And we will shine as you made us to!

I forgot who I was for minute or a season, I am not sure...
I forgot what you said
I forgot I was meant to be so full, radiant, ecstatically alive
So alive, in fact,
that others simply had no choice but to glow

I forgot, and got dull--don't mull over it
Never forgive my dullness
Before one so splendid

And yet, I am a fool
A dulled tool in your hand
Which holds the constellations;
Who am I to ask, or demand to shine!

(And yet, below
we wrestle for the blessing)

Please, help me shine
Until others can see their next line
And all is clear for you to read!

And, also...

Come read us over and over, come read us
Until You fall asleep! And dream us again
As we once were and will be!

Come read us
Until You are once again in the mood
To deal with us!
Thank you God
Amen again.

Brought To You By:

The Catastrophic and Marvelous
Derek and Amy Chapman
And Starring... for a one-time show only!
The Miraculous and Stupendous Flowchart and Layaha!

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