Echoes and Moments

Ashes smear my forehead, spread by a minister at the Cathedral a few blocks from my apartment in downtown Fresno. This morning was chilly and foggy, an appropriate winter chill cloaking our valley after an unseasonably warm few days. Yesterday I shared a beer at a favorite local spot and reminisced on the past few weeks and on the resolve that I bring into this new season. As I sipped the dregs of the delicious IPA and wondered how long the last taste would linger on my tongue, my thoughts turned to this turn of the calendar, to this next forty days, to fasting, prayer, and generosity. Lent has begun. Over the years the season has brought new meanings for me. For most, Lent means giving something up. There's an awful movie made about some dude giving up sex for an entire 40 days, and that's saying something about how relevant this observance is. Truth is, I was barely more reverent. I gave up meat during my freshman year in college, and that proved too difficult. I think I...

I keep an ongoing journal to collect my thoughts, scribble reflections, prayers, and even poetry that I create or find inspiring from others stunned by the beauty and sophistication of the world. Since I started taking my faith seriously, I mean really seriously, it's been the journaling that has helped me organize my thoughts and give words to reflections and meditations that should be processed or else could get lost amidst so many other priorities. One of the quickest aids to writing, journaling, and especially, in learning to share your thoughts beyond the unedited pages of a handwritten notebook, is the gift of following in the footsteps of a skilled teacher. Reflecting on the pages of my journal can be a difficult task, but revisiting some of the works that inspired my writing, beyond scripture itself, is a rich and rewarding experience that I hope will continue to influence me. Thus I'm compelled to chart this journey of spiritual formation by noting the most influen...

This year was a pretty good one for music, so far as I've noticed. While well known media outlets like NPR and Paste have published lists of their favorite albums, and as I await lists from other prominent sources , I've collected my top ten albums after a careful accumulation of music from a variety of sources. Yes, I discovered some of these artists as a breath of fresh air, new sonic territories carving paths into territory yet uncharted. Others I appreciate for their lyricism, or the particular nuances of emotion that an artist can convey through their voice, tone, and timbre. Some are new offerings from old favorites. You'll notice I don't organize the music apart from the entire work. I could make a list of songs, singles, or even new artists that I've enjoyed this year. But I am a firm believer in the album format, and despite my love of creating mixtapes to travel with me in my pickup, it is still the medium that most comprehensively captures the essen...

This Sunday ushered in a new liturgical year, where the Church gathers to await the celebration of the coming King with the season of Advent. We call this season "advent" from the Latin adventus , meaning "coming." It is a time to await the Nativity of the Lord, a celebration usually called Christmas here in the West, but also the watch in hope and longing for his second coming. In my tradition this is a season of taking stock, of penance, giving, and reflection. We have the chance to address our need for the Savior, and, as the days shorten and darkness creeps into the corners of our existence, we tend to the flicker of hope that dawns within us. In this time we may see familiar symbols to serve as guideposts along the journey: advent wreaths, candles, special music, and the muted colors of purple and blue to adorn our altars and vestments. For me it is the encroaching darkness and cold that offers the most stark reminder of the season's offerings. Philee...

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...

When the waves rush in and I cannot take the fall that Once broke through feeble bricks and Nearly left me slain, fallen Subject to a torrent of temptation, And wracked with guilt a hundred times. When that storm hits, you see I brace myself for another Gust of grace, that furious force That allows me to stand and See a new horizon, with lines Drawn anew in the morning. I am weak to withstand a new Onslaught of love, that wondrous Energy that fuels my heart, its Tendrils trailing from infinite skies, Passed beyond eons of knowledge: Yes, enough to get me past the pain. So I yield anew to this day, Wondering when you'll come again And confident of new flames Kindled in depths once unspeakable Once open pits of despair now that Great cavern of hope that wells within.