To know and be known.

One time when I was a child,

I met a man named Broken

He showed me scars, scabs, and holes

He introduced me to scratches and stings

I’d not known these before

They came from far away

A country my mother would have called Foreign

I’d known bunnies, cats, and teddies

Carrots, bread, and chocolate

Pennywhistles, autoharps, and guitars

But Broken told me his name was mine

That I shared a birthday with his brother Shame

And I had the voice of his sisters Destruction and Approval

They moved into my house

Told me they were family

They shared my vision

They were life

So I communed with them

Though I reviled the way they became myself

So I folded myself up tight

I dug deep under my bed

I found an old shoebox and tucked myself in

To be sure no one would see the deepest reaches

And I lined it with sharp edges so it couldn’t be opened


We had both met a man named Healing

Healing had been wounded when He was alive

The ones He loves had stripped Him of His skin

Disrobed Him to His bones

And pinned Him up to dry

He gave us meals of bread and grapes

He built us a new house

With tools to evict the dysfunction

To file down things that pierce

To rid ourselves of our boxing walls

And to go and do the same on our walk


I met a boy called Descendent

I told him my name was Broken

That I was sister to Shame, Destruction, and Approval

He showed me ducks, cats, and trucks

Toast, chocolate, and almonds

Autoharps, guitars, and shaped notes

He told me to climb out of my box

Peeled back the razor edges

Took my hand and helped me out

Asked for help with his own box

And a bowl of something hearty and warm

Together we knock down walls

Holding hands, we help build houses

Intertwined, we know and we are known



You’ve put on the clothes of two kingdoms

You put on My garment

To say you’ve adorned yourself in peace

But you layer on the garb of your oppressors

To keep you warm at night

You stand on the threshold of Dagon and Zion

You serve gods I’ve already put to shame

Holding loosely to me like a talisman—

A lover on a string

Calling me the likeness of a wooden pole

But haven’t I shown you?

Do you still not understand?

Haven’t I proven my greatness since Egypt?

Or have you again forgotten?

Wood will rot and rock will crumble

But you still lust after their abusive thrills

While telling Me you love Me

You’ve walked into your own fire

You’ve let your hands seek their own right and wrong

If only you would turn to see Me

If only you would let Me be yours

I am compassionate

Even Ninevah knows that

I’ll gather you in My arms

Lean into Me

Let Me sing you to sleep

Because I take joy in saving you

Give Me your burdens

I’ll restore you and add to you

Oh, beautiful daughter of Zion

I will be your King


We walk together
Joined at digits
Trudging and hiking
Braving the slopes
Bracing against the wind
Courageously stepping
From stone to stone
In the muddied rapids
Stirred up by miles
Blown about by distance
But we won’t get too cold
Our bones won’t freeze
Because we walk on
But we walk wrapped up
We walk wrapped up in love
And swaddled warm
By our Father who is Love


My thoughts are racing

Throttling at 110 miles per hour

My thumbs are smoking from friction

From punching out my doubts

Transferring my insecurities

From my brain

To little grey buttons

To little clouds

To the place where they started

My words form

Like an avalanche on my tongue

Because I hold a loaded gun

When the shot rings out across the valley

When the noise washes over the mountains

It all comes crashing




At 110 mph

Just like the thoughts that pinball

And try to cut corners around my reason

Please forgive this avalanche mind

It only wants to find love

It only wants to live


Stability and protection are fitting for Him

As are love and hope and peace

Because He pours Himself out on broken pieces

And quenches a parched, cracked land

Though your pain is deeply felt

Find His song of joy

Our salvation is here

To hold and to share

And in graceless days

It gives power to rejoice.

Reverse Culture Shock.


India Baby, you’ve still got my head reeling

Can’t you tell that I’m still hearing Sarah-Rose’s guitar

And her voice chiming three languages?

Did you think I would stop hearing my babies?

Lady, they’re still  in my ears, resounding


India Honey, you got my heart pounding

Your monsoon winds took my soul

They shook me up and didn’t set me down

Your monsoon tears washed me clean

Lady, I miss your embracing, placid arms.


Lovely India, You were just like a dream

Here one day and gone the next

Look at me now, Love. Just look at me now.

I’m instant photos and hospitals older

But your youthful colors tease me still

Lady, you weren’t reality, but I love you all the same.

Photo Mar 30, 4 59 26 PM


“So, you bring all your history, I’ll bring the bread and wine
Oh, and we’ll have us a party where all the drinks are on me.” 

Derek Webb

Henderson, Tennessee was covered in ice on Sunday, and getting to church wasn’t terribly plausible. Some friends of a friend suggested that a few of us meet together for worship. We ended up worshiping together for almost three hours after which we moved the party to McDonald’s. It reminded me of camp back in 2012 when we sat around and told the story of Jesus and passed  bread and juice while we did so. It was a time of family, and it looked like what the world should look like all the time — People from several backgrounds, with different ideology, living different stories, stopped for a moment and intersected each others’ stories and shared a beautiful experience with a beautiful Jesus. I’m telling you, that room smelled like Jesus.

As I sat in the room absolutely caught up in the Wind that was obviously blowing as the unplanned service moved from thing to thing flawlessly and effortlessly amid copious amounts of laughter, words formed for the end of a poem I had started a few days earlier but hadn’t finished because the words that came out at the beginning weren’t what I intended them to be.


Life is a story full of mountaintops

And gashes formed in plummeting from the heights

To a certain supposed death

But along the way, and despite the bruises

We become subject to the art of sacrifice

We submit to the art of servanthood

On the mountaintops ans etched into the scars

Are brothers and sisters and love

And written on those etchings

Is the very name of Jesus:

The Unity that binds us

The definition of eternal life

Our life’s desperate pursuit

So, break bread with me

As we break ourselves to love

And pour out this wine with me

As we shed our hearts together

Come walk in Love with me.


I have been doing a lot of thinking and praying lately. Most are just general thoughts and prayers. Some are thankful. Others are full of questions. You know…

One of the big things I have realized is that at some point in the recent past, I stopped learning God. I stopped giving Him preeminence. I stopped just praising Him because no matter what happens He is still just as good… And just as there as He was before I walked a few steps away.

Also, another big thing: Fellowship is imperative.


Going it alone is flat out idiotically stupid.

On top of all that, I have spent time just rejoicing because He talks to me… I still think it’s a little crazy…

All of that inspired this:


Though man my hopes may fail to meet

Though life escapes my plans

My God stands firm

My God knows no defeat


Though my enemies I may fear

Though I run away

My God is stead fast

He will be forever near.


Those are just the first two stanzas… The rest is a work in progress.


These ears

They’re not blind

They smell the poverty around them.

They taste the hunger

And feel the need


These Eyes

Oh! These eyes have never been deaf

To that most distinct scent

Of hurt and loss

And hopelessness


My senses aren’t numb

To the world’s great lack

I possess awareness

Of what I have

And others don’t


More than anything, I long to be here:

I long with all my heart to be in all these places, but I know that more than all of that, I want to be where God wants me to be. I don’t know where I will end up, but I do know this.

I am to radiate, to reflect, to spread God’s beautiful light as He refines my heart.

With potting soil on my hands


Take my brokenness

Turn it into beauty

I know I’m no artist

I can’t paint like you

I can’t blend colors like you



You see,

My heart is like my feet

They’re calloused

They’re rough

And I don’t want to soften them

For fear of felling pain.




Oh, please conquer my scars

But let me not forget

Help me always remember

What they mean

And how You love them.