But can I also tell you how God is faithfully attending to me right now?  Let me share the ways:

1. bringing me to this cohort, these conversations, this learning, this equipping.
2. inviting me into lament for this season of Lent to sacrifice the anger and anguish.
3. providing me with the tools from our last gathering to take in news through the framework of belovedness.
4. challenging me to hold both lament and belovedness simultaneously as equally necessary responses.
5. having a conversation with a preschooler on Sunday whose “childlike” confidence in knowing that he is truly and wholly loved by God, reminded me that I, along with every other human being can live in this confidence.

With all of these aligning together, I feel seen and loved by God and strengthened in my capacity to see belovedness in those who have “provoked” me. May God who began this good work in me carry it on to completion in the day of Christ Jesus!

With the onslaught of horrific stories I kept wondering “Is this one ‘bad enough’? Does it upset me enough?” Then I realized something in me had become numb. My emotional reactions had peaked with the AI-generated Trump Gaza video. I started to write about that… about the computer generated images of Trump with dancing girls throwing money in the air (on land which is the grave of tens of thousands), and compared it to the emotional and psychological cruelty of the Nazis. Then I realized how loaded that comparison was and how easily it could be misinterpreted. 

Then I began to feel frustration…with myself, with the exercise. I had thought it would come easy to me, I loved the idea of it. There were several stories that got me riled up and I tried again, but each time it felt like I was trying to impress by writing a meaningful entry… which ultimately is a sign that I don’t feel beloved, but trying to prove that I am worthy of love.

And then I remembered Osheta’s story at the beginning of Dear White Peacemakers which really touched me, where she confronted the Coach who had called her son the N-word. When I read that story, and her inner journey in the midst of it, it confirmed that I was in the right place. “I want to deepen that in myself.…” I started to think that maybe that’s what this exercise is supposed to be about. I had gotten frustrated with myself and my struggle with the exercise, but today I realized that it is about the struggle. I am in this cohort to struggle with this seemingly unattainable desire to look at what’s happening around me and be able to say “I am beloved. You are beloved. We are beloved”, not just in a blog post, but in my heart and in my body, and hopefully begin to live it too.

So today I found myself listening to a press conference from the White House. The Press Secretary, Karoline Leavitt, used phrases like “these are heinous monsters” among others. Last night the president posted that Biden had not actually signed the pardons for the Select Committee that investigated Trump…that the members of the committee were now subject to investigation at the highest level. One of the journalists at the press conference asked Ms. Leavitt about this. I never would have chosen this as my news item to practice on, but as she spoke I felt my heart start to pound a little and tighten. “Ok, you’re not numb now,” I thought “Let’s try the exercise again!” I listened as she bent the truth by responding “The president was begging the question ‘Did the Biden even know about these pardons, was his legal signature used without his consent or knowledge?” I went back and looked at Trump’s Truth Social Post directly where he writes “The ‘Pardons’ that Sleepy Joe Biden gave the Unselect Committee of Political Thugs, and many others, are hereby declared VOID, VACANT, AND OF NO FURTHER FORCE OR EFFECT, because of the fact that they were done by Autopen.” He wasn’t begging any question. What was she talking about? 

As I put my hand to my heart and said “I am beloved” I began to realize that the stakes weren’t high enough yet. What if I imagined that I was going to meet with Karoline Leavitt in an hour to talk all of this over with her? Wow. That did it. Now my heart was pounding. Now I could hear my thoughts rushing to think of what I would say, trying to prove her wrong. It was feeling suddenly very personal. I recognized all my defense mechanisms getting ready for battle. Can I imagine that I’m going to talk with her and still sink fully into knowing that I am beloved?…that nothing she can do or say can threaten me truly? She would probably grant me 30 seconds, snap back at me and turn to the next person as she does in her press conferences. I think of Osheta’s example of the ink on the hands. What would the equivalent be for Karoline Leavitt?

“You are beloved, Karoline Leavitt” Of course I don’t know her and she doesn’t know me, so this is all abstract. What if I imagined I had known her a while back… in kindergarten? Playing in the sandbox together? Right away I can see her destroying my sandcastle with a big smile (the same smirk that got to me in her press conference), only this time she’s just a little child and it all seems a little silly. I can see us throwing sand at each other. I can see our teacher – Jesus – coming in and taking both of our hands and laughing. “We are beloved”. He holds both of our hands gently and smiles at us. This is very hard. I’m really having trouble going there. 

Maybe I need to go back to “I am beloved”? Maybe I don’t really believe it – I don’t actually love this defensive, attacking reaction in myself. I don’t love feeling vulnerable and powerless when I think of confronting her or the feeling that she somehow has power over me, over us. “Lord, love me like this. Love me in my incapacity to love myself. Love me even with my own inner violent, imperfect reactions. Love me in my arrogance that says I am better and more lovable than she is. Love me in my wanting to bring her down and make her see the harm she’s doing. Is that your way Lord? No. Show me your way, Lord.”  I feel like a failure at being a beloved and seeing her as a beloved. How long would I have to sit trying to say “I am beloved” before being able to meet with her? Suddenly I get quiet. A space opens briefly, like a window. I don’t know if I feel that I am beloved, or can imagine that she is beloved, but there is a brief calm and a spaciousness inside and my heart is beating slower. I’m no longer completely stuck. Jesus is sitting there in the sandbox now as we both look down and sulk, looking away from each other. It makes me smile.

A week ago, I learned that a federal grant that allowed Church on the Street in Sioux Falls to provide fresh food to folks in the community had been suspended. Church on the Street is a ministry with and for the unhoused community in Sioux Falls, and Trinity has supported this amazing ministry in the past in various ways.

My reaction to this news was much like my reaction to most of the news these days. I felt sadness, anger, and helplessness. I was (and am) concerned for those who are vulnerable in Sioux Falls that have come to rely on this ministry.

In the days since, I’ve been using Osheta’s “Beloved Practice” to process this news in an alternative way. I continue to feel sadness and anger, but I’ve moved beyond the helplessness, at least enough to take some action and send Church on the Street a donation from Trinity. It was only enough to cover one half of one month, but maybe if enough of COTS’ ministry partners are moved to help, they can continue to provide this vital service.

From strong family ties and good communication, faithfulness and integrity.

I am from a middle/upper class, mostly white background, and I’m just starting to learn how that has shaped me in both positive and limiting ways.

I’m from the land of the Southwest native peoples – the Hopi and Navajo, and the Anasazi peoples who lived before them.                     

From early morning sunrise hikes to late night star gazing,  

I am from rushing streams  and quiet meadows where you can only hear the breeze

I’m from  never-ending family games, laughter, and family bird calls of “Caa”

From  my dad Bruce and my mother Laurie

I’m from the Stoic Swiss-German heritage with the tendency to keep things surface level and gloss over the hard stuff 

From people who encouraged me to follow my dreams, that hard work will get you anywhere you need to in life so just pull up your bootstraps and go, but now I’m realizing that isn’t true for everyone

I’m from a family who went to church on Christmas and Easter and always showed love, care, and faithfulness to whoever they met

I’m from a culture of hyper-independence and lots of  spicy green chili sauce on everything (which I really miss!)

I hold closely the bonding of sisterhood, endless camping trips; and nostalgic photos and memories that live on in my heart. 

With them in Arizona and me in Boston, my family feels far geographically but I carry all of this with me.

This is always true, for everyone, but I am struggling to uphold the belovedness of people who don’t uphold belovedness. For me, right now this is the new federal administration, including President Trump and Elon Musk. I know that this exercise is so important that we might have soft hearts; if we don’t do this deep work, then we can perpetuate the same harm that we are condemning.

I read an article about the impacts of cutting USAID and I lament how one whistle-blower anticipates massive human suffering as a result of these cuts: 

• Up to 18 million additional cases of malaria per year, and as many as 166,000 additional deaths;
• 200,000 children paralyzed with polio annually, and hundreds of millions of infections;
• One million children not treated for severe acute malnutrition, which is often fatal, each year;
• More than 28,000 new cases of such infectious diseases as Ebola and Marburg every year.

I sit with each of these statements and I grieve. I lament the dehumanization that focuses exclusively on the systems of financial gain and “efficiency,” without seeing the impact on real lives, the death and destruction of God’s image bearers and the most vulnerable globally.

Augustine describes sin as the heart turned in on itself – I see so much motivation taking place centered on hoarding power, resources for the good of some but not for all. I understand there is some motivation around balancing our national budget, which I appreciate, but some financial analysts estimate that the proposed budgetary measures won’t actually balance our budget but actually increase it: cutting 1.1 trillion would add 3.3 trillion in deficits and drastically increase wealth gaps between the rich and the poor…. 

Scripture attests to the reality that what affects some of us ultimately affects all of us. When one part of the body suffers, we all suffer. Why aren’t our hearts grieving when we make these decisions that harm and destroy God’s image bearers?  All for a very small portion of our budget… Let’s cut malaria and AIDS medicine from the poorest people in the world because it’s going to save each American pocket what, five cents?

I hear some people on the right say, “yes, it will hurt, but it will be worth it,” but this dismisses the pain they are inflicting. To me, it seems like we’re not making America great again, we’re making America cruel again, and I say again, because I’ve learned that there have always been narratives of difference that created hierarchies of privilege at the foundation of our country where some are valued over others. 

I grieve my fellow brothers and sisters who are claiming that these actions are right and good and Christian. HOW?

Yet I must also uphold their belovedness, even though I struggle to see it, knowing that I must uphold my value that “I am never fully right and always partially wrong.” What am I not seeing? Who else do I need to hear from?

Belovedness goes from What can I gain from them? and instead asks –  What if that were me? What if this were Jesus? 

I hold Donald Trump and Elon Musk before the throne of God and pray for them. I know that we are called to pray for our leaders and also our enemies. I feel my heart turning warmer towards them. Lord, show them Your way. Convict them of any idols they are placing above You. Convict me of the same. Help us as your people to have an authentic Christian witness that is reflective of Your way, Jesus, rooted in the gospel of repentance, love and justice and care for all. 

What will it take for us to actually embody Ubuntu: “I am because we are,” not destroying one another but knowing that what affects one affects all:

 “We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.” ― Martin Luther King Jr.

“From him the whole body, joined and held together by every supporting ligament, grows and builds itself up in love, as each part does its work.” – Ephesians 4:16

I am from the rentals: nine of them, each unique, each representing memories from that time and space.

I’m from the land of the Gabrielino-Tongva.  From hills, valleys and the waters of the Pacific Ocean.

I am from sun and wind: bright, strong, energizing.

I’m from retreating to the family homestead and persevering.

From Chris and Nancy.

I’m from the chaos and the “adventures”.

From “have I told you how much I love you?” and “what part of no, don’t you understand?”

I’m from undisclosed Christian heritage and the mix of Methodists, Southern Baptists and the Brethren.

I’m from March Air Force Base, stroganoff and goulash (in the crockpot).

From the spider monkey given as a birthday gift from Aunt Cherie.

I am from the granny with 4 husbands.

The  pictures, mementos and archives must have been in a box somewhere.

The minimalist was formed in me.

Ultramarathon training is more complex than I would have imagined. The physical and mental dynamics are deeply intertwined so that it’s often difficult to tell which side of yourself is the limiting factor. There is more learning involved than you would think- learning about nutrition and your cardiovascular system, and all sorts of things. One of the things that I learned was the significance of recovery.

Recovery, it turns out, is when training actually pays off. It’s when your muscles grow, and your joints strengthen, and your calluses form. One of the primary dangers for distance runners is overtraining- adding too many miles or too much elevation too fast, so that your body can’t grow into it quickly enough, or undermining your training by cutting your recovery time short so that your body doesn’t have a chance to build on what you have done in your workouts.

This all came to mind for me during Osheta’s presentation. I’ve become frustrated with the self-care fixation that I’ve seen in certain realms of the ministry and helping worlds. From my perspective, people often talk about self-care in a way that creates a self-image of frailty. We require a certain amount of pampering in order to be our full selves. The flight attendant says I have to put on my own mask first before I help anybody else! That image has us all short of oxygen on a doomed aircraft as a baseline reality. If we see ourselves as people constantly flailing through life, just trying to breathe, how can we have the resolve and the mental strength to actually do the hard work of peace and justice?

Sometimes, in training, I find myself drinking a coke and eating a burger and fries out of a paper bag in a hot bathtub, completely exhausted after a 20 mile trail run. It’s not weakness that I feel in those moments, though. Exhaustion and pain, yes. But not weakness. Because I just ran 20 miles. I just ran 20 miles. Now it’s time to recover. The rest of the day – I’m not walking anywhere I don’t have to walk. I’m spent. But it’s not because my legs are weak. It’s because they’re strong and getting stronger. Rest is part of the training. The soda, burger, fries, and hot bath? Sugar and salt to replenish the reserves, protein and heat for expedited muscle recovery and growth. Part of the training.

I want to change my image of self-care to something like this. I’m not a panicked passenger on a doomed flight gasping for air. I’m an ultramarathoner. That was a hard run today, and I’ve got nothing left right now. But that run combined with some rest will make me stronger. Capable of the next challenge. Ready to go again.

Rest and prayer? Part of the work. Periodic disengagement from media? Part of the work. Disappearing to a place with no cell reception so that nobody can get ahold of me for a few days? Part of the work. Starting a physically demanding new hobby that requires hours and hours of meditative running every week? Part of the work. It’s not an issue of frailty. It’s part of becoming strong enough for the work ahead.

I just ran 20 miles. Recovery time. 22 next week.

The Places Where I’m From Poem

I am from book.

From wisdom and adventure.

I am from the overflowing: energetic, loud, loving.

I’m from the land of the Kumeyaay.

From beach, mountain, and desert.

I am from flower farm: vivid, aromatic, abundant.

I’m from sports and athleticism.

From Rick and Mary.

I’m from the scattering and autonomy.

From be a team player and have fun.

I’m from Christ and Spirit.

I’m from Southern California whites, cheese blintzes, and pasta.

From the comments about how great a family man your father is from his co-workers; strangers.

I am from the beloved, citizen of the year, knows everyone everywhere, legendary, Lu Cronin;

The scattered chaos;

The abandoned traditions.

This story brought out a lot of anxiety in me.  One news outlet called it “rage bait”, and that feels accurate.  It’s taking a lot in me right now not to turn this blog post about belovedness into an op-ed.  But I guess that is the point of this exercise, right?..to get off my self righteous high horse and lay it all at the feet of Jesus?  

Breathe in.  Breathe out.  I am beloved.

The prompt recommended praying for those involved in the story, and to be honest, I thought that might require the least work.  Instead it stirred something in me that I did not expect.  The video in the story was originally created as a joke.  While I could spend the duration of my writing picking it apart piece by piece, I found the Spirit prompting me, “Remember when you joked about something that was out of line?.  Remember when you told a poorly crafted joke about a neighbor’s PTSD, made a crack at your friend’s stutter, or belittled someone you care for?  Remember when the person making videos with immature content was you during that time when you thought you were being funny in college?”

Breathe in. Breathe out.  You are beloved.  

Isn’t that what makes this idea of “rage bait” so powerful?..that it touches a nerve linking our outward frustration to our unresolved anger pointing inward at ourselves?  We rage because we want the world to see us as different from those we call guilty while inwardly we find ourselves holding common space with our own perceived enemy.  

Breathe in.  Breathe out.  We are beloved.  

Lord, fill me with grace for my own past that it might overflow as compassion to those I have labeled my enemies.  Amen.