The dinner table conversation seems to revolve around four things lately.
The unknown, the stop-and-go train state of our life, babies and
The hell-bentness
Of the world, of people, of fleshly marriage.
If there’s one thing we’ve learned about marriage in the last several years
it’s that coming to the table—even in the fray of disagreement, disappointment and discouragement—
means a
thriving love.
Avoidance produces bitterness.
Critical spirits bear hardened hearts.
Nagging births misery.
Selfishness robs selflessness.
And speaking before opening ears lends itself
to misunderstanding, frustration and marriage-feet stuck in the briars.
I could easily talk about the hell-bent state of our culture and its affairs, attitude and newsfeed, but I think that speaking in the context of marriage is analogously profound.
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Hell-bent isn’t always bad.
It leaves room for intention, boldness and opportune resolution.
However
when it is sown in self and set
On proving, standing, shoving and cheek-slapping,
eye-rolling, avoiding, tensing up and reacting,
The seed itself usually dies
And the righteous hope of what is longed for cannot prosper.
The labor is tiresome, solely-fixed and without proper nurture for justice.
———————
We can view justice differently
But from where I sit
At a home and a marriage built on faith and this undeserved and gracious gift of life,
Justice stems directly from God’s heart
And God’s heart pours out
Righteousness, peace, kindness
Humility, discernment, wisdom
Understanding, seeing, grace
Even
when we’re asked to be the light of justice,
We’re still asked to reflect the heart of what the Maker of this light sows.
———————————
Jeff is his own person.
And I am my own.
Our beliefs parallel and paradox.
Our dreams align and shift.
Our feelings calm and collide.
Our thoughts cross paths and crash.
Our opinions unite and stir.
Our theology nods and shakes.
Our voice aligns and differs.
Our prayers look up and kneel.
Our tolerances link arms and stand alone.
And in all of these things there is a time and a place
And a holy ground to stand on
Where we get to see the only person who gave us what this, all of this, really is–
our living breath, a freedom that was never ours to hold so close to begin.
And that breath invites us to sow justice that loves well,
Even in the fleshly present of our lives.
What a gift we have,
and what if we lived hell-bent on unwrapping it for all that it is?
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