Soul Space.

I promised weeks ago a review of "Des Hommes et Des Dieux." I promise I haven't forgotten my promise; I will review it and I will do my best to persuade you to see it, soak in it, dwell on it and never forget it.

In the meantime, a tasting (#4 in the series).

#1: Communication

This has been on my mind a lot because I've been forced out of my communication comfort zone this summer--pushed, shoved and otherwise prodded out of old/regular patterns (often unhealthy) and into new/unexpected patterns (hopefully healthy). I've reached the point in my life where I am in positions to make decisions that affect other people and where I have to communicate important things to other people and I've blown it over and over again in the past six months or so. Here's what I've learned:

Old communication: immediate, self-provoked, self-centered, short-term, short-sighted, careless

New communication (and this is by no means perfected): careful, God-and-others-centered, wise, long-term, honest, guarded

#2: Soul Space

What does it look like for you to have enough space for your soul to grow, hurt, feel, heal and rejoice? I've partially learned this lesson about myself many times over the past several years; I know that it involves intentional time taken for reflection, solitude, prayer and community. But this summer, I learned it in a searing, 'thou-shalt-not-forget' kind of way. This summer, I said "Yes" too many times and the practical consequence of that was that my soul did not have enough space. It lacked nourishment, it got droopy and it wasn't giving off much life.

I've been able to juggle similar consequences to "yes" before, but I couldn't this summer and I paid the price. My internal exhaustion has manifest itself in dozens of ways, both internally and externally. I realized about two months ago that I can't do this anymore. I know how I'm wired; I know that perhaps my soul needs extra time and space than others; I know, I remember and I say "no" more often than I used to.

#3 The Stupid Money System

I remarked to my husband the other day that I've always known I didn't like money for a reason. Here thousands of Americans are scrambling around and proclaiming doomsday because they've staked thousands of dollars on a gamble (sorry, Wall Street, it is what it is), while tens of thousands of Somalians are dying the slow, brutal death of starvation and Syrians are being terrorized because they want political freedom.

How does this...

...get displaced by this?

(taken on the New York Stock Exchange)

Money is Stupid, & Twisted. I wish I were brilliant enough to figure out a way around it. But it's true, what Jesus said--you can't serve Money and God.

#4: Advocating for The Other

I went to the opening of The Help with my husband and a couple of other friends (if you haven't yet seen it, you need to). I was powerfully reminded of what a dear mentor in seminary told me: "One of the most powerful ways to demonstrate and do love is to advocate for those who are not like you, for those who are Other."

After the movie, I was almost paralyzed by grief. I was thinking about racial prejudice, and famine and war and the injustice of the world in general. It seems like I can't contribute at all; that what I am trying to do isn't even a drop in the Pacific Ocean of Wrong that needs to be made Right. I had dreams last night; dreams that somehow combined the movie with Libya and sadness and the primeval desire for things to be the way they should be.

This morning, the Psalmist confronted me:

I know that the LORD secures justice for the poor
and upholds the cause of the needy.
Surely the righteous will praise your name,
and the upright will live in your presence.

(140:12-13)

I can't fathom this, and I wish that the security and upholding of justice would come more easily to my human eyes. But what else can I do but trust that the Author of paradise can remake it yet?