Inevitabilities - Matches

 I had the opportunity to watch two different baseball games being broadcast tonight. And it clarified something I ponder occasionally. The first game was the St. Louis Cardinals vs. the Kansas City Royals. My dad grew up a Cardinals fan, and passed down the fondness to me. I almost took the team's consistency and character for granted as a team who showed up and had enormous pride in rewarding their fans for their loyalty and class. And the Royals? I didn't think of them often, but I traveled to Kansas City on a Midwest road trip and visited Kauffman Stadium because I liked watching live sports and baseball tickets are usually a cheap fix. And I fell in love with the stadium, for there was not a bad view from any seat available. Nosebleeds were irrelevant for the paupers could see the action as well as the princes. But as for the team itself, I didn't know any of the players very well beforehand and was not very attached after watching them play. Despite winning a world series in the 21st century, the Royals did not traditionally field a very competitive team.

But I liked the field and made return trips with my dad because it was so pleasant to watch a game there. And this past year, the Royals actually made an effort to spend money on signing talented players for meeting their weaknesses and needs NOW, rather than selling off their talent to other teams and using the team only to develop prospects over the long term. It was exciting and different, and the Royals are actually winning more than losing this year.

The Cardinals are a mess. It hurts my heart to watch them play, because their stars are getting older and while they are consistent performers, it is turning towards being bad more than it is being good. The young talent is still green and inconsistent, and it is awkward for me to watch them. Because I remember when the team and its stars were good, and I don't recognize the newcomers for who they might become.

The Royals's starting pitcher, Michael Wacha, bounced around the league and recent years, but was best known as a key player for the Cardinals in their glory years. And he was haunting his former team by pitching to contact with a loopy delivery which dropped pitches into the strike zone and getting efficient outs on few pitches. And the Cardinals starter, Andre Pallante, was not doing that, throwing a lot of pitches before getting weak contact and few strikeouts, trying not to give up the slim 2-1 lead. As soon as he left the game in the fifth inning at just over 100 pitches, I knew the Cardinals were going to lose. The St.Louis relief pitchers did not offer comfort, but additional stress. It was as if the cross state teams had changed their stars and fates by taking on each other's legacy of "great striving" and "good talent, bad chemistry, minimal worries." And indeed, my assessment was correct. The Royals did not make mistakes, but took advantage of the Cardinals's errors and weaknesses to make it a no-doubter.

I then changed the game over to watch the Pittsburgh Pirates at the Los Angeles Dodgers. And I had a different experience with inevitabilities. As mentioned above, I grew up having the Cardinals be my default team. But then I got distracted from sports for a while and did not keep up with that roster. When I started to get back into watching baseball, I went to Indianapolis Indians games at Victory Field. The names both respectively were questionable in execution, though understandable in their intent. The Indianapolis team was affiliated with the Pirates, who shared a MLB National League division as the Cardinals. The Indians were at a AAA level and we're the reserves for the professional Pirates team to replace any injured players or provide an active practice for slumping or recovering big leaguers. And I felt the same way about Victory Field as I did about Kauffman Stadium, in that there was not a bad seat available in the park. And I began to become more invested in these reserve players who were so close to being in the MLB if they could hit a hot streak of performance. Being at that level is slightly infuriating for the players and the audience, because good players shouldn't stick around for long and therefore roster changes in quality according to the Pirates's needs.

In the other hand, I get to see professional talent trying their best out on the field to work themselves out of this job day in and day out. It brought me the chagrin of becoming invested in Will Craig as a minor leaguer, before he got called up and made one of the most foolish plays in MLB history and was cut from the team to play overseas. But currently, I love watching the Indians' third baseman, Malcom Nunez, who is an excellent defensive fielder.

But back to the Pirates and Dodgers game. I love most every one of the Pirates players because I have gotten to see many of them develop into an exciting young team. But the Pirates have been criticized for being an organization who does not spend money and go for signing other stars, preferring to develop their own talent and it has led to them relying on luck and timing to have a good team. The Dodgers are the opposite of that ethic, and will absolutely pay for the good players of other teams to create an embarrassment of talent on the field. This drive doesn't always directly translate into results, but it does provide depth and options for how to fix issues once such problems are identified.

But the Pirates have gotten lucky on many of their developing stars, who are inexperienced, but very promising and fun for me to watch. Paul Skenes, was the #1 draft pick last year and has been the most exciting pitcher to watch in the league. He tends to be aggressive and creative in trying to outplay most every batter he faces. And he struck out Shohei Ohtani, perhaps the most talented and famous player in modern history, twice. Skenes gave up 4 runs, but those runs weren't on total mistake pitches, but very good adjustments by the Dodgers and bad luck on a ball that bounced strangely in the outfield and allowed two runners to score.

It was a different kind of experienced inevitability, when a young and talented team compete against a team whose players are capable of extraordinary efforts and are managed to that level. There were two major defensive leaping catches made by Dodger players which would have resulted in hits and runs against some other teams. And there were two plays where the Dodgers demonstrated excellent reflexes and throws to cut off any Pirate hopes for an upset.

Sometimes you can beat yourself by not being in good shape to compete, and sometimes you can even be in good shape and on your best day still not escape being overshadowed by another competitor who has access to better resources and talent.

I felt more pleasure in watching the Pirates than the Cardinals, but don't think I deserted the bandwagon of my childhood. Instead, over time, I discovered that I seem to have built more of an investment in the passengers on the Pirates's ship, because I have gotten to watch them grow in their journey. I don't understand where the Cardinals's organization is, because its aims and decisions are unrecognizable to me. But I think the Pirates's leadership is stubborn enough to try to keep its current crew together and I hope to see those players become treasured.

communion - consumption

 I woke this morning with a memory of this image.

And it sticks with me in contrast with the businessman in Any Rand's "The Fountainhead." The guy who was not Howard Roark, who Rand would be pleased I remember. I read that doorstopper book in high school because her foundation offers a scholarship to write essays about it. I didn't end up composing an essay, because a true capitalist would take the lessons of the book to earn his own money rather than accept a bribe for vanity work. I wasn't going to give Ayn Rand's legacy foundation the satisfaction, so I have forgotten the other character's name, this businessman, and he is not worth the rent in my head. Anyway, this guy has a habit of finding works of art that he loves so deeply that he purchases them immediately. And then proceeds to wipe all traces of it from the rest of the world, storing it in his basement gallery so only he can enjoy it. He justifies this because there was a time where he had nothing and resented the chafing feeling of lacking access and interprets this as a power move to make the rest of the world blind to what he loves.

He had the golden rule in his mind of "He who has the gold makes the rules, and once I had nothing, so I am giving nothing back to the world who once hated me, now I am hated on my own merits on my own choices." What a diseased and pitiable mind, so I do not feel any sympathy to remember his name. At one point in the novel, one of the other protagonists asks the ubermensch architype architect, Howard Roark, "What do you think of me?" And Roark, from his perfect brutalist efficiency and vision of his towering and genius mind, turns to this character and states, "I don't."

So, I am giving unto Rand what is Rand and giving to God what is God's. And she is not God, and neither is Roark for all his perfection and the poverty of spiritual riches found in the materialist books.

And so we come back to this story told by Sendak, which on first glance, would appear to have the same result as the businessman's selfishness with the beauty of art. But the businessman was an adult with experience who could have thought about sharing and the grace of considering others. Children are allowed a grace to be instinctual and impulsive. And I think Sendak's interpretation is gracious and lovely. The child loved the image so much, that he wanted it to be a part of himself, and knew no greater means of doing so in the moment. He took the work of the artist and performed a communion with it.

I would aspire to the same grace to others, and to myself. The act of holy Communion is many things, but occasionally I want to accept it as the child did with free grace and take this priceless gift and honor it as food and fuel for my life. As it was the symbolic blood and the flesh, so may these images and words be transformed into the breath in my lungs, the calories in my veins, the means by with the swiftness of feet to bring the gospel and good news.

We receive this gift not for being deserving, but because we reached out to the Giver with open mouths and wanted to be fed with good bread and water of life. And it was provided like manna in the wilderness. What is this grace? I may never fully know, but I should be delighted to consume it and turn to praise with joy.

Spatula - Spirit

It is not quite there, this time of year and my mind unspooling to measure a narrative of progress against the backdrop of a year. But is getting close. My main reflection is on the spiritual nature of objects and my relationship to them.

Recently, my black crossover vehicle gave up the ghost about half a mile from my house on a weekend night. I pushed it home to my driveway, receiving help from two strangers. One was dressed in suit and tie along the main road where my car stalled. The second was a man of the road who helped me for a section of a side street before begging off as he was needing to catch his bus. I didn't get the opportunity to thank either of them properly, but was very grateful for their providential help in my forty five minutes of need. Once I reached my driveway, I realized that I could not cut the curb the way I wished in order to park my car safely on my property. I looked across the street and remembered that the neighbor had introduced himself on Mother's Day and we exchanged numbers. So I called on him and explained my issue. He responded and gave me a helping hand to back up and successfully get momentum to put it on the edge of my drive.

It is inglorious to have a need. But it is a very human quality, and builds trust. I tend to enjoy the opportunity to lend a hand more than I do in receiving that hand from others. It stings my pride and dignity when I don't get the time to build a good reason for why I can justify my need for help. And yet God kinda works that way, in that I don't think I can technically give Him something He doesn't already rightfully possess. But I think God humors me on occasion and on others, gets to humor Himself when I scramble a little and realize that I can either accept help or keep my false image of being self-sufficient. I have been pleased by the analogy "No man is an island, but many of us want to be peninsulas." To limit the exposure by which I can be surprised, approached, and either attacked or provisioned.

Alas, humility is an ever evolving lesson for me. My calves were feeling the burn of trying to do it myself and I was chagrined, but grateful that I had the opportunity to connect with my neighbor for a legitimate reason. I am new to the idea of having neighbors and establishing that friendly level of trust and mutual investment.

On a related note of growth, I want to talk about my relationship to my car. It was a 2009 Subaru Forester. I found it on Meta Marketplace two years ago from a guy who did his own maintenance on it. It had under a 100K miles, the interior was cloth, the console had an aftermarket stereo with a gap above it that had not been filled with a cubby or faceplate. Also, the guy happened to spill oil in the trunk by accident. But nevertheless, I was optimistic as the brand's make has a loyal following for its hardiness and durability. What I didn't know was that the previous owner had pulled the engine and had installed a bracket mount upside down, which rattled the engine up like a milkshake. And it could not outshake that Legacy even with it being a Subaru. The car became a gradual Ship of Theseus, with engine parts being replaced over time as I had the ability to take it to be repaired. Its catalytic converter was in bad shape, and I didn't feel like ante'ing up to replace it, opting instead to feed it a gradual diet of fuel intake cleaners in the hope that the "cat" would cough up the blockage eventually. But in the meantime, this issue caused my dash light to complain and cascaded a fault to preventing me from using cruise or traction control.

I considered this under the lens of the car being an extension of myself and my issues. I too prided myself for trying to live up to a reputation for being stable and able to be all wheel drive. I too never felt comfortable in my faith allowing for a system to put my life in cruise mode or trusting that the ground beneath me would not have the rug pulled out if I didn't continually monitor. And finally, I too was a person whose internal dash was constantly anxious that something might be wrong, even when the ride seemed to be performing fine without any glaring errors. And it ended up that the only way I would accept that things were indeed "not okay", was when my internal dash lit up like a Christmas tree and paralyzed my progress, forcing me to sit down and evaluate the possibilities that I ignored warning signs and would have to go through a checklist to see where I went wrong and see if I could make it back to "right".

I couldn't make it right. So, I had to trust in God's wisdom and lean into my other theme this year: how to gracefully let things leave my life, being grateful for the time I had with them without being bitter that it could not continue indefinitely.

I am probably going to write an end of year letter again with some of these themes I am reflecting upon here, through the lens of other events that have occurred this year. But I am so, so grateful for the person I am becoming. Because, letting things go has not always come naturally to me. I think a lot of the song "Looking Too Closely" by Fink. How it came into my life as a free download promotion, yet resonates despite the fact that I have not bothered to explore the rest of the band's catalog. Sometimes, I understand that I don't need to know everything to accept that the small piece I have in hand is enough for now. Like manna, I am learning to appreciate my daily bread in the Lord's Prayer.

The title of this piece is inspired by me gradually making food on my stovetop inside a pan. I bought a nice new combined set of kitchen tools, including a flipping spatula that was sturdy and strong. But most of the time, I am reaching for a cheap and flexible version that I found at a thrift store. It feels less formal and has a greater level of comfort for me. If the cheap spatula gets scuffed up, I can just flex and scrub it harder in the sink. And it is nice to have that internal relationship of trust with tools. Some of them I treat with such hesitancy, that I never fully realize their utility to me, as I am uncertain that I will not mess it up and be bummed out about it. And I realize there can be a perverse tendency in me to treat people like objects and objects like people. I am trying to live consciously in challenging these tendencies by being more exploratory in how I find uses for tools and how I interact with other people. Relationships to both have the possibility of becoming multi-dimensional, and it takes time and patience to internalize and appreciate that.

Climb - Care

 I am sitting in a chicken restaurant and Miley Cyrus's vintage single "The Climb" is playing. And I remember that era, where the song was an effort from her to redefine herself outside the character she played on television. A surreal moment of fake fame transitioning to honest identity. And I wonder if I am being honest with myself with where I am in life.

(Other than alone in this restaurant during its off hour rush).

The song came to mind two weeks ago when I was doing a long distance event held at a ski slope during its off season. I had cleared some obstacles in the course and the middle was a long jaunt in the woods. I had packed some snacks to keep up my stamina during the course, but had drained both my water bottle and provision reserves upon emerging back to obstacles. And was faced by a sandbag carry uphill in a short side track. Then a steep hill with no other burden.

I had visited this resort twice earlier in the year when it was operational for business. A friend group had organized to go snowboarding. It had been over a decade since I had last practiced my balance on a board. After a day full of downhill runs, my calves took the brunt of the impact, as I leaned back and forward, craving speed and the thrill of being on the edge of the wave of control. Having to slow down meant the board being wide to the hill and leaning against the slope's pull in order to increase friction.

 And now I was facing the challenge from the other side of the slope, looking up, and my calves and glutes were spent. I learned the application of "mountain climber" exercise, by balancing on my toes to dig into the slope and suspending my weight to my hands. I stopped about every 10 feet of incline to catch my breath and rest. This view was in sight of the ski lodge and the finish line festival. I wondered how much farther I had to walk and how many more obstacles I would have to clear before I was able to enjoy that longer rest of accomplishment. I was talking to other struggling participants and this Cyrus song about struggling further on and further up came to mind with a wry laugh.

In my previous post, I mentioned that recent events have shaken my friends and family. The world feels cracked and broken, it is hard to trust how to make my way forward when my core team is in a place of mutual support, and the hope for gaining some leverage is in the hands of the Divine. I don't want to lean on them too hard, but I am finding I am embracing them more often. Trying to speak the words of life and encouragement. I think of John 6, where Christ speaks on being the bread of life, and some of his listeners struggle with this message and leave. He asks his core group, "Do you want to go as well?" And Peter responds "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life, and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God."

And after summitting that hill, I am beginning to be more judicious when approaching obstacles, taking under advisement the pop up "tented" signs alongside the challenges stating a warning that if you cannot physically attempt the obstacle, do not attempt it. There was a reason behind the liability waiver I signed at the entrance to registration. But I am continuing to walk the outlined course, for what else would I be doing here? If I hand in the towel here and ask to be golf carted back to the ski lodge, I get nothing for my progress invested so far. The medals and finisher shirt are given to those who cross the finish line. And I would walk around for the rest of the day anyway if I did quit. But then I see the course does not bend back towards the finish line? It is detouring into another side of the resort and I begin to truly lose my spirit. Then I notice that there is another hill after this detour...

Previous to my last post's events, two concurrent events took place in March. I lost a long time relationship and gained my first house. The two were linked, as I had been roommates with my best friend for the past 7 years. And figured that if I was to take this other, romantic, relationship seriously, I should probably get my own space. In a conversation with my counterpart, it became clear that the first three rules of real estate were going to be a cause of conflict for the continuation of the relationship. It was not close enough to bridge our mutual priorities of important life commitments. It was an expensive lesson in clarity, and led to this transition of the first time in my life I have lived alone.

People in my community have supported me, and asked me how I am feeling. I am busy, trying to do good works both professionally and personally and am growing to truly recognize the fruits of my commitments after years of patient growth. But I don't know what I am feeling lately, I am having to be patient and honest with myself there too. For right now, I finished those two hill climbs I had before me, and said "no" to challenges I knew I had not the strength to carry out. I don't have the luxury of pride, instead accepting the humble path of the penitent at times, knowing I need a helping hand or handout of a Clif bar from a fellow traveller when I am on my back with cramped legs and a frail spirit. God bless the kindness of friends and strangers giving me hope to carry on and finish, like in the witnesses of Hebrews 11 and 12.

Cycle - Memorial

I am a person oriented to patterns and frameworks. To try to gain perspective by putting limits on what I can see to focus. My intended theme for this year was intended to be "incremental" growth. But instead, for my friends and family, it has been more of "sudden" loss and new growth. At least two of my friends have seen the passing of their parents. On the other end, many of my friends are expecting and giving birth. To one of my friends, both happened in the same night. And I grieved and rejoiced with them in that moment, but have had mostly vicarious filters in that I could see the grief and joy, but they were secondhand. Through a glass darkly, like in 1 Corinthians 13:12. But face to face is different. And I recognized that truth between knowledge and experience and was honest with myself and others about it.

Last night, I recieved the news that my brother-in-law's younger brother had been in a late night motorcycle accident and had not survived the trip to the hospital. And it didn't feel real. It still doesn't. But I spent today sitting with his family and friends, making space to process this.

Daniel was a good friend and an imperfect roommate. I had experience in the former, on and off, for the past decade as he lived out of state, and the latter for the past year and a half for when he moved. He was scattered at times, evaluating what he felt like doing moment to moment and how to skip the boring parts of life. He left this world doing what he loved: taking a late night ride home on his bike. His last Instagram story was the thrill of leaning into taking corners, his last post showed his joy and excitement in showing off the beauty of his new cycle. He took risks and enjoyed life, for that is the glory of youth. Youth is for making bold decisions and maturity is earned by living through the consequences. And now, he is finished with his lessons in maturity. He was fun and adventurous. He got invested in his hobbies and in his life, work was a means to the end of funding his ability to pursue his passions. He loved custom work on vehicles, whether gas or remote control kits. He loved to travel on the open road with friends to see the wonders of nature. But in the past year, his heart seemed to be a little more at peace with setting down some stakes to build his life rather than have a nomadic chasing of the sun and a purpose. I know that he was finding comfort and footing in his faith and relationship with God. He stated to his friends that he was happy and content with God's provision in his life. And now he is at the end of his race. And we are sorting out what he left behind. He was 20, and we, his friends mourn the absence of his presence in our future memories and moments in life. I do not mourn for him, though I loved him and how his joy was infectious to a space. I mourn for his family, of him not getting to witness being a new uncle to his siblings' kids. I mourn for his brothers who got to labor with him on a weekly basis and see his fingerprints and handiwork on their workspaces. I will miss seeing him, and I haven't fully internalized his absence.

Drain - Clogs

 I think I want to cry today. Not because my life is going badly. But that December is a good period to consider the quiet death of many things. And January is a mental shift to try to clear that and break new ground to where I want to grow.

Concrete example for laying out a garden of my mental state. Concrete is the death of my old self, but a good foundation on which to build. A garden is life, but needs to be fed or fertilized from the death of what has not succeeded. Gardens are messy with life and take some thought and care to corral. But I am mixing my metaphors here like the concrete in the first sentence and am feeling rather trapped by the thickness I have stirred up.

Anyway, I am a bit tired, but in a good way. I spent the last month of the year pondering what I thought about 2022. I usually compose a letter to send to my friends. This would be my seventh year if I kept up the habit. But it was a self-created rule to do so. And I am trying to get better about letting things go rather than chaining myself to a tradition that I forgot my joy in starting. So I let the end of the year pass and waited to see how I felt about it rather than forcing myself to create a lens to focus.

So, this is not a resolution for a changed self, but a commitment to maintenance, to forgiveness of what parts of me no longer hold. A mourning of parts of me that no longer are present in my life. A consideration for how to prune with care those sections so I might be free to focus on other areas of interest and challenge. I don't know how long clarity lasts, but like Matthew 12:43-45, I am trying to clean my house and pray that it lasts. Through grace, effort, and thoughtfulness, maybe unwelcome guests of old habits and ill-advised pursuits will be avoided. For entropy is a constant chaos in the universe.

I am ready to weep as a man who is longing for his home. I am looking for a house, but it has led me to consider and be grateful for the different homes through which I lived in different stages and how they provided for my needs and challenged me to see how I would contribute to the areas where I recognized the opportunity.

I am full of thoughts today as the clouds gather over a thirsty land. For growth requires watering and I am preparing to weather it. Not because I am sad, but in recognition of the process of acceptance and new life.

So I am listening to Seabird, mourning that they only released three main albums, but rejoicing in the midst of their creative drive. The way the songs flow to new life and rhythms within, hoping that I navigate my life with the same grace when the currents change around me.

Engendered - Exploration

I think gender and sexuality are hard to discuss. The first because it is everywhere. It is the expectations given to you at your birth. The second is a mystery to be unfolded later based on the understanding of the first. You are told and shown implicitly what to do with gender. 

Sexuality is discovered through exposure. But gender? Ah gender, gender is clothing. Gender is armor. Gender is presentation, and culture. Gender is what you wear and how you act. It is how you navigate and understand the world through a lens of assumptions. And yet it is fig leaves, it is a sign of brokenness and a fallen world. To uncover gender is to be exposed in a different way.

It is awkward to talk about. Because gender roles can be a performance and talking about it feels as clunky as reading stage directions for your character motivations, and then discover you are working with different versions of scripts with your fellow actors. These are people with whom you've had relationships for years, and it is foreign and awkward to realize you may not be on the same page. And you can get notes in real time by people whose opinions you respect. You think the areas in which you didn't practice will be cast and filled by others who trained to play opposite you. To be complimented and augmented where you did not focus your preparation.

My understanding of gender can inform the choices I make. It can be comforting to have a binary not only in character traits, such as, I hold to this and therefore I reject this as my character. Identity is defined by limitations, being Romeo means not being Juilet. But society is flipping the script to Twelfth Night, and people are not sure how to feel about it when they had prepped for Romeo & Juilet being tragic and true. But R&J and 12th Night are both predicated on misinformation that the audience witnesses and that omnipotence could smooth out the difficulties of the plots.

I think gender is awkward to discuss because it is talking about what can be understood without discussion. And it is embarrassing to get "wrong", like you have been training for this role your whole life and yet others may disagree with the set of rules you have as ones they are not using? 

It is inviting a HGTV show into your bedroom to critique how you function. And yeah, some aspects of your personality have been treated like it is a load bearing gender wall to everyone who shared your sex characteristic, it might be inconvenient to navigate, but hey, it is there for a reason? Otherwise the house might fall down around me. And it can be upsetting to be told by a professional: "Um no, that could have been taken out long ago. You could have been living in an open concept." But you have grown accustomed to the familiar boundary of that wall being there, and all that open space is terrifying to consider. Like. Where are the limits then? Where are the key foundational points to being me?

My awareness of how I view my experience of gender has led me to weigh what motivating factors I have to other areas of my identity. Kieron Gillen & Jamie McKelvie's early collaborative graphic novel project "Rue Britainica" explored this question of rooted identity through the lens of British Indie Pop scene being a key element of a magical realism underworld. I liked this creative team and had wanted to explore their early work, but it took me reading it three times to really internalize some of that theme of identity and not letting things go, because the past version of you at a stage can anchor who you are, but also be a drag to growing over time and maturing alongside others.

When someone makes a major lifestyle shift, it is kinda like that scene in "Inside Out" where the pillar of an interest in hockey begins to crumble and the personified emotions freak out within their control center that things are falling apart. And it can feel like when people do a heavy renovation on their exterior of their house, repainting or reshaping it into a much different direction or facade. And that is what you will now have to adjust to witnessing in your day to day life. It affects your experience in navigating your familiar neighborhoods. It affects how you see the person. But if you had the trust built with that person to tour the inside of their house, their interior life might reveal more as to why they would make such a choice which would appear radical without some greater context or details. Renovations can become expensive, costly, and time consuming. People test pilot in miniature before making major decisions. And yet miniature versions do not catch the eye as much, and you have to be paying attention and be engaged in that person's life to see how certain designs have grace on a small scale that are exposed on a larger stage or project. And on that scale, a lot more eyes are on it to check if there are any imperfections for how it can be incorporated into the status quo surrounding that reenvisioning. 

Sometimes people even put flags out to attract their people to have solidarity with an aspect of their life that they find important as a rallying point. Whether crosses or rainbows, significant dates in history or stars & stripes with lines colored in. And often those signals get intercepted by an audience who has a problem with how you present because their history with that symbol has triggered fight or flight. It might have nothing to do directly with you, but you are the lightning rod and they are seeking to be grounded in a foundational concept of identity.

But I also refer to 1 Corinthians 3 and 2 Corinthians 4-6. Additionally, I am pondering Matthew 15:1-28 on the difference between traditions and what God calls of me in my life to speak rightly and justly rather than evil and damnation. And the desperation and humility of those who hunger for redemption and healing even when they recognize that it is not naturally given to them as an inheritance. And Matthew 19 for how to address the tendency that the vulnerable are abandoned for the opportunity of the rich and educated to be leveraged for the Kingdom's purposes. Jesus challenges that through his care for the vulnerable and overlooked. Even in John 4 with the Woman at the well who was disgraced and alone, lacking community, support, acknowledgement as someone to be valued. Ephesians 5-6 calls us to conduct and to love as Christ does and that we are not to lose sight of our wrestling with things beyond this realm of flesh and blood.