Author Archives: emily

About emily

I love home in all the ways. I love being content and still pushing ahead to more. I love fresh air and how it makes me realize I'm so small in this great, created universe.

meditation on a grey and silent beach

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It’s Sunday, for some a day of rest. It doesn’t matter who you are. In your heart, you long for a lasting rest. We are always searching for it, for a way to be filled up. And on Sundays I journal about rest. Won’t you breathe and read slowly and think on this one thing? Won’t you stay and be still with me for a few spectacular, ordinary moments? 

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The waves seem to push you back, saying stay. Be still. Though all of life pecks and cries at you, this remains. Be still.

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Breathe in clean air. See the beauty of birds flying low over the water, up over waves and down behind them. See the waves collide with splashes like watery lace. These things go on. They go on, like the God of time goes on outside of it.

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Your moments are brief and scattered if you never stay and be. Time, like this fog, keeps us from seeing what’s on that horizon. But look, there is light above it.


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The light is never extinguished, though at times it dims here under clouds and nightfall. Listen to the water rhythm and let yourself be, for now.

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God-over-time is the one who does. He does, and you should be.  Be, first, before you do. Before, and after, and during. Your breath can be like the waves – in, out, steady, slow.

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When we’re tempted by calls to busy-ness, He tells us to know He is God, and He will take care of things. Be still.

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in which it doesn’t matter if you’re great

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This post might not seem terribly academic. I am encountering one of those days where to write is to suffer.

Dramatic much? Sorry. It’s a day on which I just plainly don’t feel like it. Nonetheless, this is a thing about discipline with me, and I must persevere.

So I’m going to talk a little about one of those things that’s supposed to be the greatest mark of the Christian faith.

Going to church.

Hah! Just kidding.

love.

Jesus said, “… just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”* I remembered this verse and looked up the context. He says this just after 1) He washes the disciples’ feet to signify that servanthood is how they should approach life together, and 2) He remarks that one of their company would betray Him. And after this grand statement about love, He tells Peter he’ll deny Him, and then after that, He goes to die for all mankind so they can be reconciled to God.

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So much is going on in that passage in John. Scripture recounts – twice here – Jesus instructing how to follow His example. It also demonstrates twice how, even within moments of hearing Him, humans are incapable of doing so. And then, He goes to give us the greatest show of love the world will ever know. He said we are to love one another as He loves us.

Shucks. I just can’t do it.

But how will people know we’re His disciples?

Peter told Jesus he’d lay down his life for Him, and Jesus, knowing his heart and human frailty, knew he wouldn’t. Not at first. He had quite a lot to learn about what that meant. As a church leader after the resurrection, he still blundered. But in the end, you know, he did it. He gave his life. Like, literally.

And he spent it all up to that point trying to follow his Lord.

And if God could work through Peter that way, why not me – me, less bold and confident, less outspoken, asking less, believing less. Why not me.

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St. Thomas Aquinas, somewhere, said that to love is to will the good of another. I can’t remember where I heard this, but it got stuck in my brain and in my heart. And I thought today, as many days past, if we who follow Jesus got this, what would it look like? What would be different about how we do things?

If I have a friend at church and we have some misunderstanding or division between us, searching for ways to love them is maybe too abstract in the presence of strong emotions. If I have an enemy or am at odds with someone who shares this Christianity, it may be my tendency is to prove them wrong intellectually or give up the efforts to make peace.

Friend, shall we consider asking ourselves this: How can I will the good of this person? How can I do what will bless them richly? For the love of God, the kind He said to show, is not a bare minimum, reciprocal sort of sentiment. It is the hugest, most devastating gesture we know. It wrecks us and heals us.

We are called to nothing short of this.

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Really, I don’t care if you’re brilliant, eloquent, spiritual, strong in faith, incredibly generous, a martyr.** I don’t care if I’m those things.

Am I the kind of patient that is willing to teach the same thing over and over, to withstand misunderstanding and disdain?

Am I the sort of kind that looks at someone clearly in sin and holds nothing against them?

Do I exhibit the kind of humility that sets my very real needs and desires aside for those of others?

Do I extend the kind of courtesy that goes out of my way to bring comfort and value to someone?

Am I that sort of gracious that sets aside my preferences and priorities?

Do I endure in these ways and bear these things? Do I seek and rejoice with the truth? Did you ever consider how intertwined love and truth are? Our land and our world has separated these so vividly.

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Well, there’s your generic post about lovey dovey stuff. I only hope it has sparked something in you that makes you think on it a little longer. The love of our God is extravagant; what does ours look like?

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I challenge you, my friend, to let your heart fixate on one person this week -that one who’s so hard to love – and stop at nothing to will their good, to bless them extravagantly.

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* John 13:34-35

** I Corinthians 13

31 days of looking up

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Someone who has inspired me, though she wouldn’t know it, is Myquillyn Smith, and she blogs here. She’s hosting a writing challenge for October, where each day we post a new thing related to our chosen theme. I decided to join, though I’m going to be posting via Instagram. You can see my photos in the right-hand column or below and click on them!

I have been thinking about what I should focus on for this month, and over the past couple of days I have had multiple realizations about the benefits of looking up. Yesterday I looked up while I was on the metro and saw all the cables that connect the trains to power, and it fascinated me. An awful lot of our world is above our eye level, but we let ourselves sink into ruts of habit and never see beyond our phones and our footsteps.

I hope these little glimpses into  the world above my head will encourage you to gaze on what takes place above yours. There is so much more than us.

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