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detoxing from church

Published June 27th, 2007 in church stuff, healing, mega church craziness, the refuge | 2 Comments »

we know we sometimes drive people crazy at the refuge with our rugged rawness and lack of “professionalism”. where’s the power points, the lights, the 30 minute exciting inspirational message that gives you that shot in the arm you need to make it through the week? why do we ask questions and open up the floor to all kinds of crazy things that sometimes make us feel uncomfortable and awkward? where’s the predictability, amazing program & comfort that some of us have become so accustomed to? in the past few years we have undergone some major shifts in what we believe about church. we think that people are kind of hooked on church in a way that’s not super healthy–that if we don’t get a, b or c, then it’s not a worthwhile experience. that if we get pushed, challenged, made to feel uncomfortable, we bail. that sitting in a chair for an hour once a week, soaking in and not really having to do much more than listen is considered church. that we can be part of a church for years and still not be connected to anyone in an intimate and meaningful way. that our serving experiences need to be as pain-free as possible by keeping everyone on a once a month rotation for one hour timeframes so that they are not inconvenienced too much.
we believe the refuge is part of a movement in the body of Christ away from church toward real community. we recognize that this is against the grain and takes an incredible amount of work & risk; it is completely disorienting to some of us but what we believe is a more accurate representation of what Jesus meant. we are wholly committed to it at the refuge. and getting to it it requires detoxing. a pretty strong word. but we think it hits the nail on the head when describing what it is like to move away from our addiction to church toward a real and lasting intimacy with God & others in the Body of Christ. check out this article here, http://www.theofframp.org/Detox.html.
it is long but worth the read. we’d love to hear your comments.

MIKE: MONKEY HUNTING

Published May 29th, 2007 in healing, injustice, mike | 2 Comments »

I’m not a mighty hunter, in any sense of the word, but I do know how to catch a monkey– (1) make a hole in a fence that is just big enough for the monkey to get his closed hand through, (2) put a large piece of food behind the hole. (3) just wait a little while. The monkey will catch himself because once he has the food in his hand he will not let go of it, even if it means he is trapped.

Before we’re too quick to judge the monkey we need to think of times we have exhibited the same kinds of behavior. Drinking some poison (hemlock) in order to hurt someone who has harmed us. How about pointing a shotgun at our own heart, pulling the trigger, and hoping the recoil of the gun will somehow harm somebody we hate. My favorite is shackeling myself to the person who has hurt me the most and giving them total control of my life.

This is what unforgiveness will do.

Why would a person do such absurd things? Well, like the monkey, we aren’t willing to let something go. In the monkey’s case, it’s food. In ours, sometimes it’s revenge. Like Shakespeare said in The Merchant of Venice “we want our pound of flesh.”

Allow me to air a bit of dirty laundry. Almost 20 years ago I perceived that i had been wronged by a sister in law. We’ll call her May. Because of May I was put into the position of having to take sides, in a family feud, if I wanted to remain part of a dysfunctional family. Not having good coping skills, and armed to the teeth with self righteousness, I set out to right all the moral wrongs that had been done. “Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.” and I’m about the Lord’s business. When I was told if I didn’t want to dance the family dance I didn’t need to come to Thanksgiving dinner, I took revenge to one of the highest possible levels. For almost ten years I stayed away from ALL family functions. For over a year I kept my wife from seeing her family and my children from being around their grandparents and cousins.(You need to know this was a close knit family. We spent almost every Sunday and every single holiday you could imagine together). I proudly underlined Bible verses that gave me the right to stay away from May, but she still controlled my life. I could hear a comment that reminded me of her or see a lady that looked like her and in fifteen minutes time be so enraged that people working with me could see such a visible change in me that they told me I would have a stroke if I didn’t settle down. I remember a friend asking what was wrong with me and I told him my sister in law had really made me mad. When he asked me when I had talked to her I had to say 2 years ago. You’d think it had just happened considering how angry I was. May lead me around by the nose every day of my life.

God finally grabbed my heart when my wife, Debbie, was being taken off life support. With a hospital room full of relatives, doctors and nurses I apologized to May and asked her forgiveness. Oh the precious moments I wasted, all the happy family times with Debbie and the kids, times I can never relive. A few years ago I spent a few hours walking on a beach with my one time arch enemy, May. As we relive those ten years I again asked forgiveness for hurting her during that time. To my surprise and dismay she said, “You know I was never sure why you we mad at me, but it really never bothered me very much”. I was trapped like a slave, obsessed, and it didn’t even bother her. Wow, I guess I had really showed her.

I thought I’d learned my lesson, but a while ago someone hurt my little girl. And just like a man possessed I put the shackels of hate back on my own legs, took the food through the hole and won’t let go of it. Now I have a different captor leading me around daily—my unforgiveness toward May transferred to someone else. I’m not a rocket scientist, but I get a glimpse of sanity from time to time. In his book ” Velvet Elvis”, Rob Bell says we really know we have forgiven if we can pray for the person that hurt us and be happy when God blesses them. Knowing how that rascal God works He probably will bless them. So, I think I am getting it (I am a little slow sometimes). I know what i need to do with my captor: let him go, so I can be free. Drop the food. It’s not worth it.

But it’s just seems too hard. I’m going to have to think about this for a while. As I do I will sit here drinking this goblet of hemlock and dig out my rusty old knife and carve my pound of flesh, one ounce at a time, out of my own cold lifeless heart. Yeah that will show him how much he hurt us.

Or maybe I could……..

KATHY - Downward Mobility

Published May 15th, 2007 in church stuff, healing, jesus, kathy, spiritual formation, the refuge, theology | 2 Comments »

Well it’s official I am over the hill! 40 years old. I know those of you who have already hit this mark don’t have a lick of sympathy for me. My favorite card this year was made by my son Josh, who’s 15. Here’s what he made up:
Roses are red, violets are blue
You might be 40 but you look 22
Yeah, he’s a liar, but he loves me (and if you ever need a self-esteem lift, just talk to Josh, he’s the best at that). But really, I am realizing that this whole turning 40 thing has been harder than I thought it would be. I keep flashing back to the idealistic dreams I had when I was twenty. When I was young and stupid I definitely thought life would be a lot easier when I was forty. In my dream, I wouldn’t have to worry about money, I’d be at the pinnacle of my career, fairly chaos-free, I’d have my two perfectly behaved children and a maid who would clean my house every week. Somehow, someway in the last 20 years, things have gone awry. A lot of my friends from college are rich but I now make less money than I made almost 20 ago when I graduated from college. Chaos is a word many people use when describing my life, somehow two kids became five, and walk into my house and it’s quite clear that there’s not a maid to be seen! My big plans for upward mobility have been thwarted over the years. Things didn’t go quite the way I had hoped. What happened?

Jesus got a hold of me, that’s what happened. And he keeps ruining my plans for upward mobility. Every time I try to get it, it sort of slips away. I think that’s a little bit what happened to me in this past year and a half as I transitioned off the mega-church fast-track and back into real life. Power, status, money, whatever you call it, escaped me once again. Hmm, I am pretty sure those were the exact things Jesus railed against but I am so attracted to. Jesus’ plan seemed to be a lot more about downward mobility than up. That’s kind of the big idea in the Kingdom. Whoever is first shall be last and the last shall be first. The least of these…blessed are the poor in spirit…all of the things the world (and even the “church”) told me I should shoot for, achieve, do, really, in God’s economy, means nothing. God’s economy is about love, tangibly expressed. And boy am I surrounded by a lot of people who know how to do that well. Real, true, authentic people who don’t give a rip about upward mobility and 401k’s and color swatches for their walls. I am in the trenches with people who are fighting for their lives, trying to live it well, and fighting for mine, too. And they’re fighting for the lives of others who can’t fight for themselves, either. Yesterday I watched a video of the poorest of the poor in India, beautiful women and children ravaged by AIDS and living in the slums, sold into prostitution, sifting through garbage to find something to eat. I sat at this table with people who are smart, talented, educated who have sacrificed their careers, money, status and power, to care about the least of these. I was awed. And reminded, for the next 40 years, I will have to fight against my human nature to clamor for “upward mobility”, a bigger paycheck, more status and power and listen to Jesus’ call…go down, Kathy, downward mobility, that’s what I’m all about…

I need to be reminded that Jesus’ words of blessing to the poor, marginalized, the downwardly mobile was not a threat, a coercion technique to force me into a miserable life. His call to me to go downward is His methodology for the abundant life, the easy yoke He places. If I crave His peace and presence, then I guess I have to trust His methods. Funny, isn’t it, that I think more money, power, status will give me security and a strong sense of self? Yet Jesus says it will be exactly the opposite…if I find my life, I will lose it…

KARL - Speed: Expectations of the Mega-Church

Published March 15th, 2007 in church stuff, healing, karl, mega church craziness, theology | 2 Comments »

What is fast? I think I know because God has given me a gauge, an internal and irrefutable indicator of too much speed. It’s called the constricting sphincter. I remember riding with my friend who believed he could “feel the road,” so 67 mph around one lane mountain passes made all the sense in the world. I chewed a hole in his seat. I understand that speed is inherently a subjective and biased opinion. “Hey, I think we need to slow down” can be heard in planes, board rooms, back seats, athletic fields. But what about churches and God?

I was reflecting recently on the one year anniversary of my departure from mega-church employment and what is different now. The question arose, “what has been the biggest shift in what you believe?” It is about speed. I was pre-disposed to think that people change very quickly. A single sermon, or at the least a series, is all it takes to get things moving in the proper direction. One or two weeks of being stuck, just add a little spiritual fiber (prayer, Bible reading, and solid preaching, the evangelical elixir) and presto, unstuck. A few years of being stuck, you might need to throw in a few extra scoops of godly Metamucil—extra time with me as your pastor offering my eloquent wisdom and maybe a good book to read about your ailment, and voila! Ahh, movement. My apologies, I seem to be a bit stuck in the lower hemisphere for my analogies today. Suffice it to say the expectations in mega- church world are that people should very quickly resolve what it is that ails them.

One of the issues that lead to my demise of employment was I have some unresolved childhood stuff. I am insecure, frightened at times, a compulsive people pleaser and so on. But way more grievous is that I thought it should be talked about. I will give you a quote upon my departure “you need to go away with God and get this resolved before you are qualified to preach.” Get ‘er done! What is funny, is that the powers that be would think I had never tried that! Trust me, I would take an instant, miraculous healing in a second.

The shift in my perception and ability to pastor that has become the most noticeable this past year: take what you or your church believe to be the proper amount of time to experience change and simply multiply that number by 100. Change is a factor of 100 times slower than what you thought. Churches are in danger of subtly communicating the opposite, especially when all of our stories are of the victories we have and the quickly resolved issues. We begin to create communities of people who believe they are spiritual freaks, they are not like others because although they love Jesus and have begged for change, it still seems so far away. Real change takes time, and time isn’t all that glamorous. Let’s face it, The Refuge, it ain’t all that glamorous. It is sometimes ugly, frustrating to see a lot of pain and have it not be resolved quick enough for us to feel comfortable. I feel the same way about my journey of change, too. I want it to be neater, cleaner, and certainly more triumphant.

So we continue to hope for the simple fix. Just think for a moment how many times you have sat in church and you heard this preface to what it is that plagues us: “well, all you need to do is….” One problem, one solution, and fast!

When I hear that sentence, I start to cramp up, way too fast.

KATHY - The Carnival

Published February 27th, 2007 in community, healing, kathy | 1 Comment »

I am tired of the carnival in my head. I cannot take credit for this thought, my good friend John Nunez tossed it out there in a wacky conversation and the idea has lingered. I guess I latched on to it because it’s so….me. Most days there’s a carnival going on in my head.

Let me help you get the picture. Imagine I’m leaving a simple conversation with some co-workers, and the next thing I know I’m whirling around on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, being tossed to and fro by thoughts like “well that was a really stupid thing to say….what were you thinking? they think you are an idiot” or spinning round and round in the teacups with thoughts like “you’re a failure. you’re a failure. you’re a failure” repeating over and over with every spin. Or maybe it’s being trashed back and forth on The Zipper, every mistake I’ve made that day replayed over again until I feel nauseous. Unfortunately, this is what the inside of my head looks and feels like a lot. No one would ever know by looking at me. I look fairly sane, basically put together. But inside my head, I’m often at the circus. Even as I write this, the carnival is just starting to rev up, the engines beginning to roar into life for the new day ahead. Here’s what begins to happen…”You can’t say things like this, you guys are the pastors and look how messed up you are. Get your act together before you lead. If you really trusted God and believed the things you say you do you wouldn’t think these thoughts. Where is your faith?” The craziness begins.

But I can’t stop thinking the thoughts automatically. I have tried that, doesn’t work. Then I just feel more guilty, like I should be doing something that makes the thoughts stop coming. I have tried applying God’s Word and taking every thought captive and make it obedient to Christ like it says in 2 Corinthians 10. Of course, that is helpful. It is definitely a start of a shift for me, a recognition that the crazy thoughts I think aren’t the truth and I need to look at it in the light of Jesus and what He says about me. But that somehow hasn’t been enough for me because it’s way too lonely. Just me at the carnival gritting my teeth through another bad ride, hunkering down with God’s truth, still just leaves me feeling a little lost. (side note: truthful statements that don’t sound “Christian” really get the whole Tilt-A-Whirl going)

What helps me the most is asking someone else to come to carnival with me so I can notice how ridiculous the rides I am on really are. A few days ago I was at a meeting with some dear friends where I was safe enough to share some of the crazy, irrational thoughts I think most days. A lot of my current weirdness has to do with stepping out to help build The Refuge but it’s not all that. I have been thinking these things long before we began The Refuge—it has just plugged my head into a speaker system and the voices are all louder than ever. My friends didn’t do much. Not a lick of cheap advice or pat answers, no telling me that I just needed to pray warfare and it would all go away. Instead, they listened. They laughed. They shared some of their crazy thoughts, too. And you know what? I felt a little sliver of peace for the moment, that I wasn’t an unfaithful person who needs to get her spiritual act together, that I wasn’t alone at the carnival, they sometimes take some wild rides, too. In that moment, I actually felt God in some beautiful, mysterious way. He was just….there. The thoughts felt less crazy, settled down a bit, not as loud. For a little while, I was off the ride, actually enjoying some cotton candy and a lemonade at the carnival instead of getting whiplash.

KARL - Relational Algebra

Published February 13th, 2007 in community, healing, houses of refuge, karl | 5 Comments »

I am math illiterate. It is really with quite a bit of shame I admit it. I can do arithmetic and nothing else. To this day, I do not understand why, when in an obvious math situation, an “x” or “y” can suddenly appear? The reverse is not permissible, and I can not when grasping for the proper word get frustrated and slap a 7 in its’ place, can I?

What I remember about my math journey in school was that the other kids got it. Each class the teacher would add just a bit to the previous day’s knowledge, each student nodding their understanding. I would look alert, straining to recognize something, but it was always the same thing: as soon as the alphabet showed up I was lost. I tried, I spent time with the teacher after school, and in his presence I seemed to finally understand, but as soon as I was alone in my room, numbers and letters were mortal enemies.

I had a flash back last Friday night. I attended what we call at our faith community a House of Refuge, and this was the first night of a 3 month series on healthy relationships. I am not new to this sort of thing, I know how this is going to go, and pretty soon I will be completely lost. After 46 years is it time to admit I can not do math or healthy relationships?

I know that pretty soon the algebraic concepts of relationships will emerge, ideas such as saying what you need, expressing anger in healthy ways, boundaries and co-dependence. And I will be completely lost. I see my friends, and they seem to get it, somehow this makes sense to them. I can not grasp it. I do other things well, just as in school I appeared to be a bright student. I loaded my schedule with history and language arts, I compensated. I am good at getting people to like me, think I am smart about God and life, I have loaded my schedule with helping people. But actually being a friend? An intimate partner for my wife?

That looks like x=yx %z +\+=

An A in this class is impossible, out of reach at this stage. I am without too many of the basic concepts. But I can learn, can’t I? I am sure to fail tests and be at a complete and utter loss over and over again, but I guess this time I am leaving a little hope that maybe, just maybe, the lights might come on and something might just begin to make sense this time. A D is better than an F, right?

PAUL - Stage Lights

Published January 16th, 2007 in church stuff, community, healing, mega church craziness, paul | 1 Comment »

Ok, first off, it’s important that you know that “stage” lights are different than “house” lights. When you walk into a theatre or church, house lights are usually already on. They might be recessed lights, track lights or in some cases lamps. After about fifteen minutes pass, these lights dim and instinctively you wrap up any conversations you may have been having about the carpet, or program or video screens and you find your seat. You may sit for a moment in the dark but then…something magical happens! New lights come on! Different than before because although several lights are on in the same room you are in, you can’t really see much of what is around you with any clarity. These are stage lights, they show you what is on stage. Each light is specifically designed to aim, focus, color or restrict light to fit a purpose. Not to show you what is around you, no, just to show you what is on stage. Ok? Can we move on?

Directors, playwrights, actors, musicians and pastors plan and organize words and movements to put under the stage lights to keep you interested and focused on what is on stage and not around you. Occasionally, you may hear a noise like a baby crying or even an adult crying but this is unintentional and ultimately distracting to what is on stage. In moments like that it’s a good thing the house lights are off so you won’t be distracted for long. After you have heard and seen all that the producers of the play or worship service have wanted you to see the house lights will come back on. After blinking your eyes a couple times you will look around, locate the exit, grab your coat, stand and join the line of people heading toward the door. If you came with someone, you will talk about how good or bad the show was regardless of it was a play or worship service. Almost certainly you will have an opinion on the music. You probably won’t think about how many other people there are at the same event until you are in your car in the parking lot trying to merge into the steady stream of vehicles moving to the street. You simply didn’t notice them before… because the stage lights were on. You were watching what was on stage.

So, I was thinking… what if the house lights were left on? What would happen? Would you still watch what was on stage? Or watch something else? How would you feel if you were the person on stage? Would you go on singing? Acting? Speaking? I guess it’s obvious that everyone could see each other not just the people on stage. It would least be easier to see who was crying. And see how far it is from you to them. See how to help. Which might be good or bad…bad, I guess, if you’re at a play… but better, if you’re in a church.

MIKE - Dignity

Published January 1st, 2007 in advent, church stuff, community, healing, mike | 1 Comment »

Christmas Eve at The Refuge was a glorious occasion. Each person’s name was called and we received a wrapped gift, our fourth simple gift of our December series. It contained an ornament that simply said, “Dignity”.

As a middle aged, middle class white male, I suppose I had never really thought much about the concept of dignity. Webster’s says that dignity is “the quality or state of deserving esteem or respect.” Who shouldn’t have dignity? It’s a no brainer. God is no respecter of persons. That means He has no favorites. That we are all valuable, important, worthy. So what is the big deal?.

Society doesn’t tend to think like God. Through the ages many groups have been abused, oppressed and marginalized: The poor. Minorities. The uneducated. The mentally or physically challenged. Women. The list goes on and on. Members of these groups still struggle today for equality and dignity.

As Karl taught, the Word of God again and again hammers home the truth–that we are equal, that we all have dignity. The angels didn’t announce the birth of Jesus to the rich, the learned or the religious leaders. No, it was the lowly shepherds the angels talked to. When Jesus rose from the dead, the first person he spoke to was a woman, not one of the 12 apostles. The Pharisees were not picked to be in the inner circle of Jesus. The creator of our universe picked fishermen, tax collectors, prostitutes and adultresses’. Do you think, just maybe, he was trying to tell us something, to show us a better way?

Unfortunately, many at The Refuge know all too well how it feels to be marginalized because of race, gender, educational or financial status, or maybe a physical or mental disability. I am reminded that Jesus hung out with the marginalized of his day and showed them dignity and love. And he still does. How can we do any different?

KATHY - Kind Beats Right

Published November 6th, 2006 in church stuff, fundamentalism, healing, kathy, theology | 5 Comments »

The other day I was driving down the road in the lovely suburbs of Arvada and I felt like someone kicked me in the stomach. An old van pulled into the lane in front of me. It took a minute for my eyes to focus on how weird it looked. Then I got a little closer and realized that huge posters of aborted fetuses were plastered on all sides of the van. They were graphic, horrific, and personally painful. Underneath the photographs were mean and disparaging words about baby killers and God’s wrath. Honestly, the ugliness, the meanness was so shocking that I had to abruptly get off my telephone call and catch my breath. It took me a few minutes to regroup, awestruck by the insensitivity of the images. I can understand the point trying to be made, but why do it this way? In that moment, I was truly embarrassed that I would be associated with this kind of “Christian”.

Lately I have been feeling that quite a bit. In recent conversations, I have been hearing a recurring theme–mistreatment by Christians. Pain caused by insensitive Christians and mean churches. Many have witnessed a huge disparity between what is said and what is done. We know that Jesus taught us to love our enemies, but Christianity has become known in this country as the least likely help to help those with whom they disagree. Gays, liberals, evolutionists, and others perceived to have a world view other than Christian have often felt the wrath, not the benevolence, of those called Christian. Rejected instead of embraced, shamed instead of loved, ignored instead of helped is the pattern. In this past year I have become one of those people—those “wounded by the church.” Take it from me, to challenge the established, large institutional church to value kindness over growth is a sure way to unemployment. The pain is deeper than I ever could have imagined but I can tell you that thanks to the kindness of my dear and faithful friends at the Refuge and other kind Christians these wounds are healing.

This past week I was at a conference in Seattle. It was a wild gathering of radicals who believe in a different way of doing church—a simpler way more focused on what Jesus cared about–the poor, the oppressed, the marginalized. But instead of slick programming, bells, whistles & buildings the higher value is kindness. I have believed the things that they were talking about for a long time but because I was so caught up in the megachurch and all its trappings I didn’t know this crazy underground movement of simply kind Christ followers existed. I felt privileged to sit next to such dedicated people….kind, gentle leaders who didn’t care about big salaries and filling cavernous auditoriums but truly cared about tangibly loving the abused, the beaten, the broken.

In the spirit of becoming more and more like Jesus in this broken messed up world, one of the speakers shared this profound thought: Being kind is more important than being right. These words stung. How often has being right been my primary objective? I have stood on tables, shook my fists, hurt other people, all in the spirit of “being right.” And hey, let’s face it, sometimes I have had a pretty darn good point and the right to feel right. But where did it get me, really? Nowhere except maybe closer to anger, resentment, isolation, unforgiveness. I have found the need to be right to be a dead-end, a lose-lose.

I want to learn to be more kind. I want to extend to my enemies, and those who don’t agree with me, forgiveness and compassion instead of hate and anger. I want to live my life well instead of worrying about how others are living theirs. I want to continually stay in touch with Christ’s radical kindness, mercy and compassion toward me (even when I don’t really understand it) and offer it freely to others. And I guess I keep wondering—why is this so hard to do? Why is bitterness, self-righteousness so much easier for me? I am pretty sure it’s just because I am a human being and inclined toward a hard, self-protective heart instead of a soft and vulnerable one. And bottom line is that extending kindness makes me vulnerable, and I hate to be vulnerable. It’s so scary, risky. But I’ve been imagining how different my world might be if I was a little bit more kind and a little less worried about being right. What if we all were a little kinder to ourselves, kinder to others?

My friend K-Lee has a wonderful tag line on her email…”Be kinder than necessary. Everyone is fighting some kind of battle.” God, help me, help our little community of rag-tags at The Refuge be known for our kindness.

KARL - The Story…

Published October 24th, 2006 in healing, karl, spiritual formation, the refuge | 3 Comments »

Tony Barker was the smartest sixth grader in the country and happened to be in my class at school. I remember when he brought War and Peace to class for his “free reading” selection. No teacher was qualified to teach him math, so he taught the class. At the age of twelve he aspired to become a neurosurgeon. He became one of the youngest tenured professors at the University of Colorado. But what I most vividly remember, the memory that is first in line for recall is…

In sixth grade Tony Barker wet his pants.

This past Sunday at The Refuge I shared a significant flaw in my character, a specific horrible moment that could have ruined multiple lives. It is probably not my worst moment, but it is certainly up there as something I would much rather forget. Now that I have said it out loud, publicly, it will now be a part of the mosaic that influences how I am known and remembered. Yes, how I am choosing to live now matters, but nothing will erase the memory of my bad choices. Hard to believe? What comes to mind with this name?

Monica Lewinski

A single act, whether stupid, evil, or silly influences our memory so dramatically it can overshadow all our other accomplishments. This is why it is always vital to remember the ellipsis.

The ellipsis (aka dot.dot.dot….) is the literary equivalent of Grace. We live in a world of periods. End of story. That is it, you are what you were, I have all the information I need. It is a life without grace. And I am fairly used to living that way. I forget that our lives are constantly being written, yes significant chapters have occurred and some of those chapters include some pretty ugly mistakes, but maybe the climax is yet to come?

The power of the gospel is that my story is constantly changing. It is my job to believe each person I meet, especially those who are part of the rag-tag community we call The Refuge, are not yet who they one day will be. Even more difficult is to believe it about me. I’m learning to believe my life is more like an ellipsis…the story isn’t finished. I must live this by not hiding, but trusting you will see me slowly become more of who I was made to be. I cannot end my loneliness if I am hiding in the shadows of someone’s distorted admiration.

I am …

Who knows where or how it will end?

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