Christ is in the City

I like the image Howard Moody has of the city as both a sacrament and as a symbiosis. These images were new to me, yet I understood them. Thinking about all of the creations of God coming together in their infinite diversity and appearing as the city is poetic and so real. As city dwellers, we must look inwardly to have a silent and still moment.

However, we must also notice how children playing in the hydrants, jumping rope, or following us around are clear signs of God in the city. Old women sitting on their stoops laughing, sharing their life stories, and keeping an eye on the children are experiences of God in the city. Sleeping with the homeless in Love Park is God alive in the city. God is laughing, crying, screaming, and watching in the city. In the city, God’s children from every corner of the world are gathered and God smiles. His kingdom is coming full circle here as the poor are clothed and fed, prisoners are visited, and flowers spring up from the cracks of the sidewalk where a shooting occurred.

In my childhood, I experienced God in the crackling sounds and vibrant colors of the Aurora Borealis, the crystal clear waters of Alaska’s wilderness, and the magnificent mountain ranges that reached the heavens. As an adult, when I sought God in the city, I didn’t expect to find Him there. To my surprise, I not only found Him, but found Him in abundance. He was in the eyes of the crack feen on my corner, in the cries of the mother who watched her son as he was taken away, and in the laughter of children on my block. It was clear that God was here.

I believe that urban spirituality is found in relationship with others. It is not dependant on nature and solitude, but rather in the connection of one person to another in “everyday experiences.” As a city dweller, I am given the opportunity everyday to help someone who is in need. Though I know that human suffering exists outside the walls of the city, I find it so clear in my everyday experience and, as Freire explains, it has “built a capacity for hope through (my) spirituality.”

Today the test results came back.
It felt like the beginning again.
The cancer hasn’t grown.
Larger or smaller.

Three months of watching his body get pumped full of poison.
Three months of watching him loose his hair, his weight, his strength.

Three weeks of no chemo.
Three weeks of seeing his color return, noticing more whiskers on his cheek, seeing him smile.

Three solid weeks of hope and happiness for the rest of us.
Belief that it was really working.

Another day of wondering why.
Another day of facing the possibility that this might just be a battle he can’t win.
Another day of feeling completely helpless.

My Desire is to Love You

Sometimes I ask people how they know if they love someone. I have been thinking a lot about love lately and thinking about what I believe love is. I was raised a Christian, so I typically look to scripture for answers. In Corinthians, there is a passage that even non-Christians are familiar with because it is read so often at weddings. The thing is, it was not originally written for love in marriage. It was written to give all of us an explanation of how to love one another.

It reads:

Love is PATIENT.
Love is KIND.

Love does not ENVY.
It does not BOAST
It is not PROUD.
It is not RUDE
It is not SELF-SEEKING
It is not easily ANGERED

It keeps NO RECORD OF WRONGS.

LOVE does not DELIGHT IN EVIL but REJOICES WITH THE TRUTH.

LOVE ALWAYS PROTECTS,
ALWAYS TRUSTS,
ALWAYS HOPES,
ALWAYS PERSEVERES.

LOVE NEVER FAILS.


In the last few months, I have left a job I had and loved for nearly 5 years, started a new job, started a grad program, moved to a new house with new housemates, and discovered my dad had a rare form of cancer that is incurable. As a result, I have alienated many of my friends and isolated myself a good deal. Some of my friends have loved me regardless and have put up with the crazy that comes out of my mouth and in my actions. I am humbled and blessed by these friends and am learning so much from them during this time in my life.

Still, I struggle with what it is to love. I have a friend who says, “I love you,” and has asked why I don’t say it back. I look at this verse in Corinthians and realize I have failed my friends and family so many times.

I have lost my patience.
I have been mean.
Instead of rejoicing in their success, I have envied them.
I have been proud and boasted when I did well.
I have been rude.
I have used people for my own benefit.
I have become angry.

I have not only kept records of wrongs but also brought them up over and over and talked about them with others. Sometimes, I just couldn’t let it go.

I have “rejoiced in evil” by finding humor in others’ failure.

I have not always protected them by standing up for them when others have wronged them.
I have not trusted. In fact, I barely ever trust.
I have not been hopeful.
I have given up.

I have failed.

And when I have failed, I felt it. Without even looking at the words in Corinthians, I have felt the absence of love when I have done these things. How many of us, when looking at this verse can see that we have, on at least one occasion, been the complete opposite of love? How many of us have stopped loving someone because they have fallen short of love, even though we know we have done the same? The explanation of love in Corinthians is agape love. It is the highest form of love and I believe the strongest intangible thing in life. When it is done right, you feel it. You know it. You want it. To experience it is to experience a “thin place.” That is, a place where the physical meets the spiritual. To truly feel the Creator’s pull between two people.

I have felt this love from friends, family and the Almighty. It is pure, holy, and extraordinary. So when I say “I love you,” it is hard for me, because I know I haven’t, but I wish I could. Perhaps, what we should be saying is,” My desire is to love you.” That, to me, would be speaking the truth in love.