i would rather be a doorkeeper

For a day in your courts is better than a thousand elsewhere.

I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of wickedness.

For the Lord God is a sun and shield; the Lord bestows favor and honor.

No good thing does he withhold from those who walk uprightly.

Oh Lord of hosts, blessed is the one who trusts in you.

From a psalm of the Sons of Korah. Number 84.

I want there to be comfort.

I want there to be peace.

But when we are left behind, burning our oil lamps waiting to be taken, our hearts can't help but feel great loss in those who have gone before.

My eyes turn to heaven, to the ones I love in that place, to the One who loves me in that place. I ask when I can move out my tent and into his kingdom.

He tells me to trust and wait on the Lord.

And wait I will.



I am a burdenbearer. There. I admitted it.

If you come to me with your problems, I bear the emotional pain that you bear. I anguish it. I live in a small way in it, too.

I feel badly when I tell someone I don't want to (or can't) listen to their burdens. Not only do I feel badly, I feel guilty. I feel like a bad friend.

And yet, when I called her and her mom had only just died I wanted her burden of heartache to be lifted from her. I wanted her to know that her mom still loves her from her place beside the Creator. I wanted her to know that she is still loved on this side of Creation.

The burden of burdenbearing washes away and the compassion of pain stings its way into my heart.


light without breath

Mom, can I have a jar?

What do you want it for?

To catch the fireflies.

Are they out tonight?

The first ones I've seen all year.

What are you going to do with them once you have them in the jar?

Make a lamp.

You will need to make breathing holes for your bugs.


The Light without Breath is useless.

Knowledge without practice is useless.

Love without action is dead.



I don't really like the sound of the word fullness, but I love the meaning of the word. The word for me tells of a life lived abundantly for Christ. It depicts an overflowing of the spirit of love and truth into all parts of life.


I have been striving for fullness this week and in many ways I have fallen short. I have watched too many episodes of The Soprano's to claim total fullness (but I only have about ten episodes left and then I will have to wait until the second half of season six is released on dvd). I have chosen to sleep in rather than wash my hair too many times to claim complete fullness.

Yet hints and whispers of fullness have tiptoed around me in ways that have recently been ignored, unnoticed, or absent.

A fire slowly burning on my patio, laughter swirled in wine glasses, wasabi burning my lips, red bunch onions freshly resting in my refrigerator, consolation from a colleague, prayers from a friend, promises of new life, hope, and dreams, opportunities for new expression, renewed vigor to progress, joy in quietude.

Fullness trickles, flows, floods.