Echoes and Moments

I work for an organization that allows us to take monthly retreat days. These are spaces where we are reminded that we are not in control of our own destiny, where surrender to God and his purposes overcomes our instinctive desires to micromanage ourselves out of equilibrium. It is this type of experience that we need regularly. Rather than counting on some sort of mystical experience or transcendent period of prayer, retreat days are like exercise: they allow us to remain healthy and prevent burnout. Still, within our yearly rhythms we need more than a single day to reflect and unwind. Vacations and holidays enable us to escape the routine of work and the demands of our vocations, but they are distinct from a retreat. That’s why I’ve established a yearly discipline of taking a weeklong retreat in some sort of separated space. My last extended retreat was during a period of deep discernment where I was questioning my future in campus ministry. I was bringing many questions i

Today, in honor of Saint Francis' feast day, I woke up and listened to one of my favorite bands. Since Saturday happens to be my natural Sabbath (that is, when I'm not away on weekends ministering at a student conference or traveling otherwise), it's a must to be able to listen to some good tunes. Although I'd otherwise love to wax poetic about my new favorite Canadian indie, soul cuts, or rock-en-español, today is a day to honor the sacred. I've written about Jars of Clay before, that breakout band of the mid 90's that gave us such popular titles as " Flood " and " Love Song for a Savior ." It's their reflective, raw, and unflinching way Dan Hastletine's lyrics convey the Christian walk that attracts me to them. Today, I'm drawn to a lesser title on their eponymous debut album called "He." The lyrics deal in characteristic fashion of the complexities of faith in a broken world: Don't try to reach me, I'm a