Cutting Edge

It's the front side; the one where

all the work is done, but also

the one where danger lurks.

What does it mean to live

on the cutting edge of grace?

It means looking for the good

that's hiding behind fear and anxiety;

seeing through another's lens

without judging that view;

standing beside and offering,

but not demanding, for others

to peer through your glasses,

while you're trying to see through God's;

wholly trusting in something beyond yourself;

and validating the holy

when it is manifested in others,

especially when it's antithetical

to what you were imagining.

It is, above all, sailing

on the wind of surprise

and riding the current of joy.

© 2014 Todd Jenkins

Platitudinal

They're only platitudes

when our speaking

of them far exceeds

our living of them;

when what we say

is incongruent

with what we live;

when the verbal art

we paint is light years

beyond the canvas

of our ways;

when our talk and walk

are a bait and switch;

when we voice grace

but breathe fear.

© 2014 Todd Jenkins

ChurchNow

I’ve been praying and thinking a lot lately about the intersection of church and culture. I feel as if there has been some major road construction underway, but the church seems to have either ignored or disbelieved the rerouting signs. Here’s one example:

Pastors spend about twenty hours a week preparing their sermons, and another 3-4 hours preparing to lead the other parts of worship, yet the Sunday morning worship hour is becoming less and less the touchpoint for connection to church and faith. We have to disabuse ourselves of the notion that the work of church happens on Sunday and takes place inside the walls of the building. If the church is going to be a beacon of the gospel that Jesus, as God in the flesh, revealed, we have to understand the schedule correctly.

We are not on an NFL schedule, where all week is practice for Sunday's performance. Sunday is the practice, and every day of the week is the real deal. We are not quarterbacks, who learn how to call and execute a series of plays. It isn't a game, or even a competition at all.

It is a dance, and the music, which we must be open to hear, is Love, and this Love is beholden neither to a particular tune and beat, nor to a select set of instruments. The steps we must learn to take cannot be  memorized. They morph, moment by moment, situation by situation. We must learn to feel them in our bones, and to trust that what we feel is enough. It won't always be right, but it's not about correctness and certitude. It's about relationships and community. The dance, which is only learned step by step, as we go along, is Grace.

Stumble on, sisters and brothers. The world is dying to step with us.

© 2014 Todd Jenkins

Questions

As our bodies, minds, and spirits

settle for worship, may we breathe

deeply of your promises,

purposefully discarding the hurried,

shallow pace of the culture and economy

with which we are surrounded.

May we find ways, through worship

and beyond, to be fed more

than empty-caloried fast food.

May we refuse to simply sit around

and wait for white bread answers,

and be challenged, instead,

to earnestly search for whole wheat questions;

through Jesus Christ, our guide. Amen.

 

Photo by Lee Lindsey McKinney

© 2014 Todd Jenkins

Leap of Faith

“Leap” is often a stretch, not in

a lunging toward the sky kind of way,

but more like hyperbole.

It’s not usually about peeling rubber

into the darkness like a drag racer,

but more about taking one step

at a time beyond visibility;

looking back to see

if God’s presence can be discerned;

and listening forward

toward the darkness, seeking

to discern God’s whisper.

Photo of Dark Island by Lee Lindsey McKinney

© 2014 Todd Jenkins

Blessing of the Backpacks

[L] We are a people of full pantries, O God; most often lamenting the absence of our favorite foods, rather than the absence of nourishment altogether.

[P] We have extremely secure food pantries!

[L] But when we look around our own town, we see pockets of food insecurity.

[P] We see children who come to school with empty stomachs.

[L] You, O God, have put it in our hearts to respond to this hunger in tangible ways.

[P] Bless this food from our Backpack program that has been piled upon the Communion table.

[L] May it nourish not only the stomachs of those it reaches, but also their hearts and minds.

[P] May it represent the Bread of Life and the Cup of Salvation to everyone who eats and drinks.

[All] So let it be spoken. So let it be delivered. So let it be done.

Breaking

Photo by Jennie R. Jenkins

When the hermetic seal gives way,

when the paint begins to wear,

when the corners chip away,

when the fissure runs all the way

through and straight down the middle,

and even when the pieces crumble

so small that a team of forensic scientists

couldn't possibly reassemble your life,

I want you to know that God is with you –

has been with you all along –

and not the angry, "Tsk, tsk, tsk!"

God of your fearful imaginings,

but the Holding, Weeping, Tender

God of Grace whose grip is both

so gentle and expansive that

all of your fragments are held under

the delicate flow of Love's fountain,

so that you can be watered and nourished

into a resilient flower of Hope,

reflecting divine Mercy for all the rest

of us cracked souls to see.

© 2014 Todd Jenkins

No Stone

Sabbath is, first and foremost,

the creation of time, space,

and reflection for the purpose

of removing ourselves from

and repenting of all the thoughts,

words, actions, and systems

that have supplanted

our awestruck posture in the presence

of the great mystery of God.

Wilderness is the ideal setting

for such practices, with its

utter absence of comforts and controls.

Sanctuary will suffice,

if the desert is unreachable.

No stone is exempt

from examination and turning.

No institution gets a bye.

Political, social, cultural,

economic, familial, and even

religious systems must be

held up to the candle of Love

to see if their thread is both

sufficiently strong and flexible.

Systems that make it back

from this weekly sojourn,

tempered and reshaped

by faith’s heat and hammer,

are allowed to direct us

for another week.

 

Photo by Lee Lindsey McKinney

© 2014 Todd Jenkins

Spilled

Just exactly how, when,

and how much we allow

the fire burning inside us

to be revealed to the world

is different for everyone.

We can launch it with rage,

and hurl shallow expletives

like live hand grenades,

seeking to escape its flame

by finding someone else to blame.

Or we can bury it deep within,

covering it with masks or chemicals,

ashamed to lay our claim.

Or we can find an appropriate outlet,

channeling our passion

into something therapeutic,

if not cathartic.

And then there are those of us

whose prescription seems to be

the dangerous work of shaping

thought, emotion, and meaning

with the elemental blocks of words.

When your blood is the color

of ink, who's to say exactly

which you're spilling,

and how much is too much

or how little is not enough?

© 2014 Todd Jenkins

Bridge

She's headed to Rainbow Bridge.

I remember the day she arrived,

a rescue from the shelter,

sure she was here to deliver us,

and she was absolutely right.

It was the holiday season,

and she couldn't stop singing;

crooning her malamute-mix soprano

to us as if she were the heavenly host,

welcoming messiah with her "in excelsis deo"

and so "Gloria" she became.

She also peed on the floor

each time she broke into song,

reminding us of all our own

perfect imperfections;

reflecting grace at every turn.

We’ll savor the memories:

canine alarm clock bounding into Holly’s bed;

chasing Gracie through the house;

a stranger never crossed her path,

everyone serenaded with gusto,

celebrating our incarnation,

reminding all of our core Godness.

Thanks, G! May we always remember

the way you looked into every soul

to both see and call forth

our divine spark, no matter how hidden.

© 2014 Todd Jenkins

Lead or Lead?

Which one do you mean?

The present tense verb

intimating the skill set required

to keep a body in motion?

Or Pb82, that heaviest

of non-radioactive elements,

most often equated with inertia?

It is the former that's heavy

on my heart today.

How can it be accomplished?

Let me count the ways!

When a body craves Pb82's properties,

and is either reluctant

to absorb kinetic energy

or recalcitrant toward all

but a narrow path,

leadership requires

flexibility and creativity.

Subversive and subliminal

are keys to the flow

of frozen molasses:

constant exposure to sunlight,

gradual warming, and a partial clearing

of the downstream debris field.

But there's one more thing,

more important than all the others combined;

the most brutal and beautiful of all:

recognizing that leadership

is really about being willing

to be led by anOther:

One who rarely reveals more

than an invitation to step out

into darkness, who dares us

to trust, whose signs

are often cryptic and late,

who asks us not to focus

on where or how,

but "Help!" and "Wow!"

Original photo from Trails for Kids, Fayetteville, TN

 © 2014 Todd Jenkins

Friends

Time flies, physical energy soars,

passion rises, laughter reverberates,

and joy is unleashed

when we are with friends;

not because we've found

someone who agrees with everything

and shares all our convictions;

but because we've found

someone who loves us enough

to let us be honest and unpretentious;

who learns our intimate details  

and the history that shapes us,

not through examination or inquisition

but voluntarily unfolded narrative,

piecemeal, over time, like a mini-series

to which we eagerly and regularly return;

who recognizes that differences

and disagreements are dwarfed

in the mutual field of integrity

that unfolds with each adventure.

Give me one such friend

and I can endure a thousand dramas

through which I feel pressed

to be less or more than my true self.

 

 Hiram M. Chittenden Locks, Seattle, WA

© 2014 Todd Jenkins