world of war

Rinsing a dish
in the sink
where the sunlight streams in

How does the world still turn?


My baby says “Mama”
and I smile
and cry
to think of the mamas whose babies will die

For no good reason, only they
got caught in the crossfire between power plays


Strawberry juice down my three-year-old’s chin
and ribbons of shadow
because the sun shines

Why here?
Why do we
get to live untouched and wild and free

When a world away and yet in our backyard
families hide
or are taken
torn apart


And what should I do, besides rinse a dish
and wipe a face
and smile
and cry

Because of the babies whose mamas will die

Genesis 1:1 (a meditation)

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.

- Genesis 1:1

SUGGESTED READINGS: Psalm 33, John 1:1-3, Colossians 1:16-17, Revelation 4:11

The story starts with One who is, for now, simply called “Elohim.”

It’s the plural of a very ordinary Hebrew noun for an ordinary god, a divine ruler or judge. But the writer makes an extraordinary statement about this “ordinary” supernatural being: In the beginning, Elohim created the skies and the land.

Of course, such a claim would be far less extraordinary to its contemporaries than it is to us. Every ancient culture had an explanation for the origins of the world they inhabited, and all of them were linked to the activities of the supernatural. But unlike the stories told by the ancient Egyptians, Elohim didn’t Himself evolve from the preexisting chaos state of the uncreated space, nor did He achieve creation by reproducing Himself into an order of multiple other gods. And in contrast with the cosmology of the ancient Babylonians, who believed the world had come into form as the byproduct of cosmic wars between supernatural rivals, the Biblical creation narrative begins simple, peaceful, and authoritative.

There is no rival to Elohim.

There is no origin of Elohim.

From the first words of the Scriptures, He is set apart and supreme, eternal and ever-present. And He creates.

Heavens, or skies: The space belonging to the divine.

Earth, or land: The space governed by His human representatives, the ones He makes in His likeness.

In the beginning of human history, Elohim formed divine space and human space, and married them into one indivisible unit of sky and land, atmosphere and earth. From the outset of time, He intended to dwell within His creation and among His creatures, sharing all His goodness, His glory, and, yes, even His power with His image-bearers.

The God who has neither origin nor rival has no cause to be stingy with His abundance.

Jesus + nothing

For the last couple of weeks, I’ve been writing out something of a treatise on why and how my views on complementarian doctrine have shifted over the last 5-10 years. The hope was to answer the questions I’ve been getting more and more often lately—“Why have you changed your mind?” or “Why does this matter to you?”—because I really do appreciate being asked. Too often, instead of approaching one another with curiosity and care, we choose instead to fill in the blanks with our own assumptions, or apply slippery-slope logic: If you’re not a complementarian anymore, where will your obvious disregard for Scripture take you next?

For now, the treatise is resting and waiting for its time.

Today I just want to set my eyes on Jesus.

Jesus—the Master of the chaos. The storm-winds and wild waves obey His voice. When my gaze is fixed on Him, there is nothing I fear.

I don’t fear those who question my integrity.

I don’t fear those who fear the questions I ask.

I don’t fear those who believe that it’s their moral duty to keep the truth controlled and contained.

And I don’t fear that I will end up lost in some blasphemous new belief system, because my eyes are on Jesus and my heart is filled with His Spirit and God the Father surrounds me with His protective embrace. I know that Yahweh has given me a profound delight in His Word, and I have arrived at my conclusions from it and with it, not working against it or around it.

I’m just a person, thinking, and following Jesus wherever He goes—which sometimes means following Him outside the camp.

Sometimes I wonder if we have lost Jesus the same way the Pharisees lost the plot: by shrouding Him in extra guidelines and burdens, binding His hands and feet with our pet rules and statements of faith, and forgetting that our light and our salvation is Christ alone. It’s Jesus + nothing else, not Jesus + complementarianism. Not Jesus + Paul. Not Jesus + my own good behavior.

Jesus.

Plus nothing.