dear body

I ‘ve been thinking about embodiment a lot lately, i.e., mind-body connection. Or, in my laymen’s terms, the theory and practice of being present in and connected to your body. One of the things that’s been really hard for me in this season is feeling betrayed by my body. I’ve wrestled a lot with how I will ever learn to trust my body again… I’ve always taken such good care of it and it went and stabbed me in the back and got cancer. I’m used to feeling pretty present and comfortable in my own skin, especially since I started exercising more and practicing yoga and meditation in the past few years. It’s been extremely disorienting to feel a deep disconnect from my body in this season, like I can’t trust it or feel safe in my own skin.

I was sharing some of these feelings with my girlfriends the other weekend (side note: I have the best friends in the world) and my friend Katie brought up an episode of the Liturgists podcast on embodiment.  The whole episode is really interesting, but at about 1:06:40, Hillary McBride (who I just adore) reads an embodiment exercise of sorts, apologizing and thanking her body for various things.  It’s really powerful and it made me long to be back in that space, to feel at one with myself and with who God made me to be. I felt inspired to write my own exercise, and thought it might be helpful to share. I’d highly recommend the experience for anyone… it was really powerful and healing for me. It took some time, but it helped me find a profound level of compassion and kindness for myself. I had been seeing my body as the perpetrator, only to find out that it was both the victim and the conquerer. Here goes:

Dear Body,

I’m sorry that this happened to you. I’m sorry that the enemy got inside.

I’m sorry that this world is fallen and you became prey to the cruel evidence of that.

You did nothing to deserve this.

You did not do this to yourself or to me, and I’m sorry for blaming you for it. 

I’m sorry for the trauma you have experienced and endured; the unending pricks and pokes, the scans and tests and chemo over and over again. The hours in bed.

I’m sorry for believing that you failed me. This was not your fault.

Thank you for the strength you’ve shown through this trauma.  Thank you for enduring.

You are amazing, and capable of so much more than I give you credit for.

Thank you for carrying life inside of you, even when cancer was simultaneously growing.

Thank you for beautifully birthing a healthy, perfect baby girl.  For nourishing her and sacrificing for her. You are brimming with strength.

Thank you for telling me that something was very wrong.

Thank you for fighting.

We are in this together and, aside from God, we will be the only ones who ever fully know the depth of pain and beauty that this season has created within us.

Thank you. I love you just as you are. 

three, two, one.

This post was written by Bethany. This is our fifth update on Bethany’s cancer journey, to see older posts scroll down. Thanks for reading.

September 6

One strange thing about chemo and cancer is that as you get better, it doesn’t get easier. Chemo is chemo, and it knocks you to the ground every time, regardless of your progress.  I have three more chemo treatments left.  The countdown is like a mantra, on repeat in my head. “Three, two, one… three, two, one…” I only have to do this super hard, disgusting thing that I hate three more times. The end of treatment is in sight, but I also have to come to terms that cancer will now always be a part of my life.  The follow-up appointments, the way it will shape our family and our ministry, the fear that it could come back 5 or 55 years down the road. I hate it and I’m grateful for it all at the same time- the mixture of pain and depth that it’s created in our lives. I wish that I could end treatment and just wipe my hands clean of the whole experience, but I know that won’t be the case.

I often say to Ben that cancer is the club I desperately don’t want to be in… like, I’m in the club but I’m not showing up to the meetings.  I’m not ready to run a 5k for research or add “cancer survivor” to my instagram bio. I need some space. I’m longing for a season that is free from cancer and its restrictions, I’m longing for what it feels like to get to day 15 and not have to go back in for treatment. I’m hoping that space can bring me to a better place of acceptance.

The other day in counseling, I was processing a lot of things and I found myself succinctly saying something that had been swirling around in my head, but felt so good to say out loud, so simply and direct. I can find myself somewhat paralyzed by daily decisions… should we really own a microwave? Use normal sunscreen? Dry shampoo? Breathe the air in California? It all comes with a cancer warning. Sometimes I think I’m a complete fool for not throwing out every “toxic” thing in our house and replacing it with some essential oil-based substitute that will cost 4 times as much. It suddenly feels extremely urgent to get rid of anything in my life that could possibly invite this horrible thing back in.  Then, just as suddenly, I swing in the exact opposite direction.  I refuse to let my life be dictated by fear. I refuse to let cancer control so much of my life and my emotions and my spending. I know that there is a middle ground to all of this, but it’s very hard for me to settle into.  Anyway, what I said out loud to my therapist is, “I desperately want to make sure that this never ever happens to me again, and I desperately don’t want my life to be controlled by it, either.” Those things feel at odds to me most of the time, and I can’t seem to pick a camp.

I think the essential struggle of it is wrapped up in the confusing reality that I am a healthy person who got cancer. I eat really well, work out, buy organic, sleep 8 hours a night. I’ve never had surgery or broken a bone, and now I have to check the box on medical history forms that I’ve had cancer.  It still fails to compute.

It’s all very confusing and hard and strange but I am seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. As treatment ends, I know that I will still be processing all of this for a while to come, that it might be hard for me to engage with people who think that since my treatment is over, then everything must automatically be great again. I have all sorts of apprehension about navigating life after chemo, but when I think about that light at the end, I don’t see those things.  I see me, and Ben, and Nora. I see the three of us, surrounded by the light, whole and happy and tired and together. Three, two, one.

 

 

grief + gratitude

This post was written by Bethany. This is our fourth update on Bethany’s cancer journey, to see older posts scroll down. Thanks for reading.

July 25

I believe in a blessing I don’t understand

I’ve seen rain fall on the wicked and the just

Rain is no measure of his faithfulness

He withholds no good thing from us

I believe in a peace that flows deeper than pain

The broken find healing in love

Pain is no measure of his faithfulness

He withholds no good thing from us

– Sara Groves, “Open My Hands”

 

I had chemo yesterday. I hate chemo. It’s hard to imagine that this poison being pumped into my veins is saving my life, but it is. That tension sums up so much of my life these days… so much grief and gratitude all mixed together.

One thing that could be hard for people to understand is that even on my “normal” days, I don’t feel normal. My life is not normal. I’m out of the house, I have my hair, I might have a smile on my face but I’m constantly aware that things aren’t normal.  I am so grateful that I get to have so many good days in between treatments.  But honestly? Being so damn grateful all the time can be exhausting. That probably sounds entitled and might not make sense to many people, but it’s true.  When I have a good afternoon with Nora, when I go on a date with Ben, when we get to see friends and relax, I’m always filled with a deep sense of gratitude, but what often follows is grief.  Grief for the true normal I long for, when I’m not just counting down to the next chemo treatment and the following painful sick days. I never realized that “normal” is a privilege that can be taken from you, and that makes me angry and sad and tired.

The song I quoted above is one that has been on repeat for me lately.  It’s a song I’ve listened to through many trying times in my life, and I think it holds the tension well.  It challenges me to think through my beliefs and their working out in my life. I hate so many things about this season, but the truth is that I wouldn’t trade it.  I’d like it to be over and done with, but I know that God is creating a new depth within me.  He is expanding our capacity to do hard things, to care for people well, to experience prevailing peace and presence in the midst of deep pain. I choose to believe in this season that God is withholding no good thing from us- we have exactly what we need, his love and presence being at the top of the list.  I might sing this song through tears and gritted teeth sometimes, but I cling to that truth and hope. I am filled with grief, I am filled with gratitude, I am new and I am being made new.

small victories

This post was written by Bethany. This is our third update on Bethany’s cancer journey, to see older posts scroll down. Thanks for reading.

July 24

Some tangible things have gotten better over the past couple of weeks. The days are still a rollercoaster, emotionally and physically, but we’ve had good news and some positive steps to celebrate in the midst of the storm. Some good highlights to share:

We had a really encouraging meeting with my oncologist. Ben says that in a past life, my doctor was probably a spin instructor, haha. He is extremely upbeat and makes everyone in the room clap for me during every visit. We found out that my tumor is almost gone, so the chemo has been working really well.  All that’s left to get is the rest of the tumor, residual tissue and any microscopic cancer cells throughout my body.

Though we still wish I could just be done early, especially with that positive news, it is helpful to know that no matter what, we are sticking to the original 6 month treatment plan.  I won’t have another scan until after my last chemo. As odd as it sounds, it’s nice to just take the option of being done early off the table, so we don’t have to spend so much mental energy poring over that outcome. I have a firm finish line, and we can look forward to that.

In response to my positive progress, the doctor removed one drug from my chemo treatments. It’s the harshest of the 4 that I was on, and can cause significant long term damage to your lungs. Along with the relief of avoiding those long-term effects, my post-treatment side effects are a little less severe, and I get my energy back a couple of days earlier.

I had been on blood thinner injections since I was in the hospital, giving myself a shot every morning and night.  It wasn’t too bad at first, but when my dosage changed, the needles were different and the whole process became extremely painful and stressful. Last week I finally got to transition to a pill instead, which has made a huge difference! I’ll be on blood thinners until chemo is over, just to be safe. Cancer and chemo can cause blood clots, so I can’t take any chances.

I started going to therapy to process this whole experience, and it’s been really helpful so far.  I really enjoy my therapist, and I feel good knowing that I’m doing something for my mental, spiritual, and emotional health. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a very long time, and I’m grateful for the motivation to get in there!

Trying to celebrate every small and large win along the way.  Thanks to everyone for your prayers, encouragement, and support. xoxo

scan results

This post is from Bethany, written earlier this week. Since then, we’ve received a lot of encouragement from her oncologist and things have started to look brighter. That being said, cancer is a roller coaster and we want to let you in on the journey, as a lot of these feelings are still present.

Last week, we received the results from my latest scan.  The good news is that the chemo is working and my tumor is shrinking, but we were disappointed to learn that my treatment would continue on the original plan of 6 months total, leaving us with 4 more months to go. Well, disappointed is an understatement. Honestly, the news was devastating. We felt sure that I was either cancer-free or very close to being done.  The reality of four more months of chemo is so hard to comprehend and accept.  It’s caused us to question a lot and wrestle and lay if all out there this week.

For the past two months, I’ve had so much faith that I will be healed, and quickly.  Since the day I came home from the hospital, I had a clear sense that I would be done early. We had so much peace, we were covered in prayer and encouragement and meals. Even through the first few chemo treatments, it all felt so temporary. God’s presence and peace was so close to us, and we took that as assurance that we could power through and just be done with all this cancer nonsense. I felt so brave and optimistic- look at me! Laughing in the face of cancer! Pat me on the back!

It felt brave and hard then, but what I’m learning is that it’s actually really easy to have faith for the things you desperately want to happen. Which is not all bad, it’s a just funny mixture of my own desperation and my firm belief that God moves and heals today. Put them together and voila! Surely it must come true. What is much harder, nearly impossibly hard, is to trust God and have faith when the miraculous does not happen.  When the healing doesn’t come, when the scan isn’t clear, when you get the news you don’t want to hear. Up until now, we were really just waiting for all of this to be over.  Now I’m trying to figure out what it means to accept and live my life right now, without checking out or getting depressed or clinging to blind optimism. Previously I had faith only for the waiting, not the living.

I feel like I’m starting over.  I feel like I’m going through the stages that most people go through when they very first get their diagnosis. I’m angry, I’m confused, I’m heart-broken.  I’m grieving the looming loss of my hair, the possibility of infertility, the fact that I’ll spend Nora’s first year in this cycle of pain, only half-present with her. Chemo sucks. It’s so hard on your body and your mind.  Even when you know what to expect, it truly never gets easier. I still regularly feel shocked that I have cancer, that this is my life.

And in the midst of all that, when I get a moment of perspective, there is this: I will live.  My treatments have an end date, my doctor tells me I’ll be cured.  How many people get to hear that with cancer?  I am truly grateful for these things.  The blood clot that landed me in the hospital was so severe, I could have a very different story had I waited a few more days.  I’m here and I’m alive and I might not be whipping up homemade organic baby food and going to spin class, but I’m here and my life as a whole is filled with joy and my suffering has purpose.

This week I felt shaken to my core, and I’m trying to learn how to give this season to the Lord. When things seem dismal, I’m trying to learn how to lean on him for comfort, to discipline myself to seek his presence. In this season, I have the opportunity to grow into a level of faith that shares with Christ in his sufferings, a concept that our culture has no room for.  I do not want to miss that opportunity. Literally, through my heart-broken, confused tears, I raise a hallelujah.

the story so far…

As you know, in May Bethany was diagnosed with Stage 2 Hodgkin Lymphoma. Throughout this time we have been overwhelmed by the love and support of our family, friends, church, and community. While we realized that there have been text threads and email chains, we haven’t been posting updates anywhere public beyond Instagram and Facebook. This means we are fielding a lot of questions when we are out and about. As you might expect, it’s tough to summarize our journey in a few short sentences, or to try and answer the question “how are you?” with any real nuance, detail, or clarity. The season is complex, with many ups and downs, and many learnings. So we decided to write down some of our experiences here, on a website that I have used off and on over the years as a creative outlet and for mission trip updates.

I doubt this will feel very formal or professional, and we won’t post everything we think or feel. But our hope is that this will give you a little glimpse into what it’s been like for us. By writing down some of our experiences as they unfold, I think it will help with a few things. First, I hope it will help us to process what we are going through. Second, I think it will be helpful for people to get to hear more of what we are experiencing without us having to share the same stories or feelings over and over. Third, I believe it will help people to pray for us more specifically, as God continues to heal Bethany, provide for us, and be with us.

That being said, here are some updates that we posted on Instagram over the past few months. I hope this will bring people up to speed on the story so far.

May 11

Bethany: “I’ve been having some random mysterious health issues since having Nora, and Tuesday night we finally got some answers. I have an extensive blood clot from my neck to my right elbow, which was caused by a 9×7 cm mass near my heart. Currently we are awaiting biopsy results, which could come some time mid next week. We are feeling so supported by our family and community, and so confident that God is fighting for me and already healing my body. Please be praying for 1) continued healing of the blood clot, which is under control 2) quick and benign biopsy results and 3) comfort for this mama who just wants to be woken up at 3 am by her baby and not a blood draw. We won’t be posting a lot of updates on here, but we will keep everyone posted on the biopsy results. Thank you to everyone who has been praying and encouraging us so far, it means more than you can know” 

May 15

Bethany: “My biopsy results came back and I have stage 2 Hodgkin Lymphoma. This is hard news, and we know it will be a challenging road ahead. The good news is that this cancer is highly curable with chemotherapy and my doctor is confident I’ll be cured. I started chemo yesterday, and it will last about 6 months with outpatient treatments every 2 weeks. We are so thankful for the care I’m receiving.

We are feeling God’s comforting presence and peace in the midst of how hard and challenging this is. We are feeling the prayer, love, and support from our family and community (both near and far). Thank you to all who are praying for us and supporting us right now. It means the world to us.

Please be praying that the cancer would be killed quickly and early in treatment, that my body responds well, and that pain and other side effects are as minimal as possible. Pray that I would be able to bond with Nora (who is already four and a half months old!), and have energy to experience the joy of mothering. Pray for Ben, that he will be strengthened and comforted as he cares for me and Nora. He has been a rock to me this week. Life is such a gift- the joy and the pain- so please be praying that Jesus increases our capacity to love and be loved by Him, each other, and all of you.”

June 25

Ben: “Bethany goes in for her fourth chemo treatment tomorrow, and a scan the day after (June 27). The scan will help us know what treatment will look like into the summer, but we are praying for a totally clear scan, and that she is fully healed. The journey has been crazy so far- really hard, painful, and surreal moments. Also so many stories of God providing for us and experiencing his presence. Often those things are happening all at once. We are so thankful for all the prayer, love, gifts, and kind words we have received from so many. Please continue to pray for Bethany, Nora, and me over the next few days. We love you all.”

Refugee Camp + Bethlehem / Israel Pt.2

This is part two in a series from our trip to Israel and Palestine last January. I strongly recommend reading them in order! You can read Israel Pt.1 by clicking here

Have you met them? That person, those people, the ones we are talking about now. You know them. The others. The people who aren’t like us. The villains. The bad guys. The others.

When I was fifteen, one of my favorite things to do was to try and connect people who didn’t “go” together by being friends with anyone and everyone. One of my favorite friendship pairings was a “tell it how it is” baseball player named Mike and a long haired skinny jean wearing artist we affectionately referred to as the Beast. A couple years into the friendship, I remember hearing them share that they had never expected to be friends. “I thought you were a jock”… “I thought you were one of those weird art-is-life people”… But here they were, connecting, relating, in a friendship, all because they took a chance.  Relationship changes things. The them, the other, becomes a friend. Relationships- especially with those who seem different from us- can change the way we see one another.

In the absence of relationship, it’s easy to assume the worst in people. As I consider my life (or scroll through my news feed), I find myself making assumptions or tiny judgments about people all the time. I find myself giving into stereotypes, quickly dismissing the feelings and experiences that challenge my predispositions. Too often, I forget the power of listening.

One of the unique aspects of our trip to Israel and Palestine was the opportunity to visit places that foreigners don’t often go. Our hope was to learn from the local population about their experiences living in Israel and the West Bank. For us, this meant spending time with people who found themselves on varying sides of the conflict, and many who are simply caught in the middle. We met with Orthodox and Secular Jews. We met with Muslim and Christian Palestinians. Meeting people with different experiences and perspectives was helpful in dismantling stereotypes and prejudices.

This is Aida Refugee Camp. When we heard we were going to a refugee camp, we expected to see temporary housing like tents or shelters. But this camp has been here 67 years. To give perspective, that’s my dad’s age- his entire lifetime. Lets say my dad had been born in Aida. My grandpa and great grandpa would have been forced to Aida, and taken him with him. My sisters and I, and my nieces and nephews would have grown up here- that’s 5 generations. Over time, Aida has been build up with playgrounds and multistory buildings. The camp sits in the shadow of a security wall and Israeli sniper towers. For most Palestinian refugees in the camp, the only interaction they have with Israeli people is with Israeli soldiers. This seems to only further divide the distance between people.

Many Palestinians still keep the keys to their homes, hoping that one day they will be able to return. For this reason, keys have become a symbol. The longing for home is more than a desire to have a place to lay their head, but a resounding hope that they would one day be able to return to the land that they were exiled from. This is, to me, the great irony of this conflict. A group of people, exiled from their land, return and exile another group from their land. My prayer is for reconciliation. That somehow, there would be room for everyone.

Within the camp is a community center for kids living in the camp to engage in creative outlets like painting, photography, music, writing, and gardening. The picture above is of a rooftop garden. One of the most impactful moments for me was to see tear gas canisters re-purposed to grow strawberries. The tear gas canisters had been leftover from security raids by Israeli soldiers. Upon a closer look, we realized that the canisters were made in the United States. Whether we realize it or not, we are implicated in this conflict simply by being Americans. A tear gas canister made in the USA, launched by Israeli soldiers, and re-purposed to grow strawberries by Muslim Palestinian refugees. It was a beautiful picture of restoration in the midst of brokenness.

One of the murals in the camp. There are different artistic expressions throughout, some painted by locals and others by international groups who visit. Many foreign groups paint the security wall, but refugees in the camp often refuse to beautify the wall, as it is to them a symbol of oppression and injustice. This mural includes a quote from Martin Luther King, “We must rapidly begin to shift from a thing oriented society to a person oriented society.”

Some of our team in Bethlehem! Love these people!

I love this depiction of the last supper at the Diyar Consortium in Bethlehem. Diyar is led by a Christian Palestinian Pastor named Mitri Raheb. He was an amazing servant of Jesus and of his community, advocating for the least of these in his community. The Diyar focuses on creating culture through education for Palestinians. They follow Jesus in bringing abundant life to their community. To learn more visit their website here.

Falafel straight out of the fryer from a street stall in Bethlehem. I had some of the best food of my life on this trip!

They are everywhere… sort of.

A Banksy mural on the wall of a car wash gas station in Bethlehem. Throw flowers, not grenades. Blessed are the peacemakers for they will be called children of God.

The Old City // Israel Pt.1

After three posts chronicling the Uganda portion of our trip, we wanted to post about our time in Israel as well. Like Uganda, these posts will be photo centered, as I think pictures are a great way to give context to the stories we have been sharing with many of you. However, these pictures only serve as a small window into the people and places we encountered. My hope is that these posts serve as an entry point into real in-person conversation(s) with you. In fact, this is one of the reasons I am opting into blogging. For me, it is a springboard into a conversation, an opportunity to get us into a living room, coffee shop, or any place where (good) food is served to share, discuss, and learn from one another.

Another quick note- because the Holy Land is full of history, some of our pictures may make it seem like we were simply touring the Holy Land. In some sense this is true, we spent time in places where Jesus walked, talked, and ministered (and in a certain sense we toured Uganda as well). But this trip involved so much more. This was an exploratory trip, so one of our  governing questions was “God, what are you up to, and where are you inviting us to join in?” For this reason, the primary orientation was to learn- the history (as my friend Greg put it, “there are places in the world that are more than 200 years old”), the modern reality (both in terms of conflict and efforts for peace), and the people who call this place home.

In our effort to learn about the reality on the ground and to respond to the presence of a God who is always working, we anchored ourselves in the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7). My belief is that the counter-cultural way of life that Jesus proposed was just as relevant then as it is today. One of the biggest things I am learning is that the reality of conflict can be complex. As one Rabbi we met said, “anyone who claims that this conflict is simple, simply doesn’t understand this conflict”. When I consider various conflicts at home, I am enamored by the complexities- there are always multiple narratives, histories, and imported baggage. In my experience, there can also be loud voices, closed ears, and solutions that prefer the self while neglecting the other. Too often we fuel our own ego while de-personifying those with whom we disagree. I am as guilty of this as anyone.

Simultaneously I learned that the way of Jesus is simple. It is costly, but simple. His yoke is easy and his burden is light, but taking on his yoke means laying down our own. Staying in step with him means we don’t rush ahead or fall behind, but travel at the pace of Jesus, and (even more challenging) to his destination. His kingdom is one where the least are the greatest, the weak are made strong, and the mourners will be comforted. The prince of peace has enlisted us into his army of peacemakers. Armed not with swords, but with crosses. His way is simple, but it will cost us much. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. 

First things first, we hit the beach! (Not really) I added this picture from the airport to emphasize that Tel Aviv is a modern city in every sense of the word. I also think (hopefully I am not being presumptuous here) that the Selfie is probably the single greatest American export of my generation.

One of the entrances into the Old City of Jerusalem called the Damascus Gate. There are multiple entrances to the city similar to this one. This gate in particular is a site where there have been instances of violence against Jewish people.

This is on the Via Dolorosa, the route that Jesus is believed to have walked on his way to the crucifixion. The archway above was built in 138 AD, which reminds us of the deep history of this place.

The Wailing Wall. Jewish people pray at this wall because just on the other side is where the Temple, and specifically the Holy of Holies, was located before it was destroyed. There are two areas for prayer, one for men and one for women. People often put their hands on the wall as they pray. Some people cry as they pray or sit and read the Torah. Others write prayers on small pieces of paper and put them in cracks between the stones. The overwhelming longing is that the temple would be rebuilt here.

If you look closely, the different stones (small at the top, and larger below) signify the different time periods in which the wall was built. Throughout history, Jerusalem has been destroyed and rebuilt multiple times. To quickly rebuild the city in the face of various conflicts, the city has been built on top of its own ruins. For this reason, there is constantly more history being unearthed through ongoing excavations.

The Dome of the Rock, a Muslim Mosque and Holy Site. It is believed by Jews to be the place where Abraham attempted to sacrifice Issac. It is an area that holds significance for Muslims, Jews, and Christians, which adds a religious element to the tension between peoples.

This is one of two proposed sites for the tomb of Jesus. They added a door so they can close it at night because the original stone covering the door was rolled away (sorry, I couldn’t resist).

One of the unexpected things that happened, was that I got to connect with my longtime friend (and at onetime roommate) Christian! He had been travelling around Europe and felt like God led him to Israel. We got to connect with him, and he lent a prayerful perspective on the spiritual climate of the area. He has been wrestling with some of the complexities of the conflict, and felt like we were an answer to prayer for him, because-while we didn’t have many answers- we were able to affirm a lot of what he was seeing and experiencing. Like at home, one of the challenges to loving people, is that we are tempted to turn a blind eye to people who are experiencing hardship. It becomes easy to dismiss and even ignore people in our communities who are struggling, because we look for answers at a distance rather than engage with people themselves, to hear and learn from them. I admire Christian for seeking to follow Jesus wherever he leads, and for his effort in trying to love everyone, everywhere, all the time.

A view of the Old City from on top of the Mount of Olives.

One of my favorite churches called Church of All Nations, located on the top of the Mount of Olives.

I am including this one because I am a Bible nerd. This is the Kidron Valley. Near the upper center of the photo is where Gehenna is located. During Canaanite times, this was a place where child sacrifices would be made to the god Moloch. By the first century, this became the place outside the city where trash was burned. The direct translation of Gehenna is Hell. So when Jesus is talking about hell, there is an actual image for his hearers to grapple with, a place of darkness and disgust at the time of his speaking.

The last image for this post is of an olive tree near the garden of Gethsemane at the Mount of Olives. We learned that olive trees need to be watered for two years in order to grow, and after that they no longer need to be watered. It takes about 10 years for an olive tree to bear fruit. In our instant culture, the olive tree serves as a reminder that many good things aren’t instant. They take time.

The rocks below the tree are arranged to read Peace. In the place where Jesus was betrayed by one of his closest followers, in the place where Jesus commanded Peter to put away his sword, in a place where Jesus cried out to the Father “not my will, but yours be done”, I wonder what it means to be a peacemaker. I wonder what it means to follow the Prince of Peace wherever he is leading.

2016 // Songs + Albums

Favorite Songs of 2016

In 2015 I started making playlists of my favorite songs releases for that year. Here is my playlist for 2016; 77 songs that have kept me moving this year. My rules for selection were twofold: 1) The song had to come out this year, and 2) I had to like it. So one objective rule, and one subjective rule. I broke the objective rule at least once, but I promise the subjective rule remains unbroken! Listening Recommendations: 1) Shuffle, and 2) Loud.

 

FAVORITE ALBUMS OF 2016

Along with the playlist, I thought it would be fun to post my favorite albums from 2016 as well. There are 18 of them, listed in alphabetical order by artist name. There were a lot of great albums this year- I am aware that my list is missing many great ones- but I wanted to make a list that highlighted a few that I think got lost in the shuffle.

americanfootball

American Football // (LP2)

andrewbird

Andrew Bird // Are You Serious

bellows

Bellows // Fist and Palm

blackoak

Black Oak // Equinox 

clairmorgan

Clair Morgan // New Lions & the Not-Good Night

diners

Diners // Three

theexquissittes

The Exquisites // Home

frankiecosmos

Frankie Cosmos // Next Thing

fruitbats

Fruit Bats // Absolute Loser

greenskybluegrass

Greensky Bluegrass // Shouted, Written Down & Quoted

hissgoldenmessenger

Hiss Golden Messenger // Heart Like a Levee

ings

Ings // Dog Physics

mandolinorange

Mandolin Orange // Blindfaller 

memoryhouse

Memoryhouse // Soft Hate

mutualbenefit

Mutual Benefit // Skip a Sinking Stone

pinegrove

Pinegrove // Cardinal

roguewave

Rogue Wave // Delusions of Grand Fur

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Wintersleep // The Great Detachment 

Afoyo Matek! // Uganda Pt.3

As a part of our trip to Uganda we got to go on a Safari in Murchison Falls National Park. The photos speak for themselves, but in addition to the pictured Giraffe, Water Buffalo, and Hippos, we also got to see Elephants, a Lioness (and four cubs), Warthogs, Crocodiles, and lots of bird and Antelope variations. We took a boat ride up the Nile to see Murchison Falls from below, and then hiked up to see it from above. One of the best parts of the trip was that our friends Richard and Lillian (who Pastor in the village of Alero Cuku) got to join us! We are so thankful for this experience and are still in shock that it actually happened!