Jet Lag | Postcards from Re-entry

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by Elizabeth

I used to be an expert jet-lagger. For eight years we traveled the globe, making multiple 24-hour trips. We would arrive to a world exactly one-half day behind or ahead of the world we’d just left. It usually took my body about two weeks to fully adjust.

Sometimes I would hear travelers to Europe complaining about the long flights and the trans-Atlantic jet lag, and I would laugh. Because I knew they could arrive at their destination in less time than it took to fly my longest leg, start to finish. Their time difference was several hours shorter than mine, so I flattered myself either that I was “better” at jet lag — or that I merely suffered more.

Other times in those eight years overseas, I would hear people complaining about the shift between Daylight Savings Time and Standard Time. And I would think to myself, what can one measly hour do? How can it wreck an entire week? I had been told that it generally takes about one day per time zone difference to recover from jet lag. So I figured people should be able to recover from Fall Back and Spring Forward in just one day.

I mean, I remembered time changes from before Cambodia. Spring Forward was annoying, as I lost an hour of sleep. But I loved Fall Back. I loved the idea that I could get the same amount of sleep and still stay awake an hour extra. A night owl’s dream, right?

But now that I live here again, I don’t find Fall Back to be such a dream come true. We turned our clocks back a week ago, and all last week I woke up an hour early, effectively losing more hours of sleep than I supposedly gained last Saturday. What had happened to me? What happened to the globe-trotting girl who could hack time changes and days-long airplane trips? I don’t know if she grew old, or if she merely lost her traveling skills.

But from now on I understand why Americans complain about the biannual time change. Because it’s no joke.

Traffic | Postcards from Re-entry

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by Elizabeth

We drove through the city recently. We didn’t even drive into the city; we just drove through it on the interstate. I was shocked by how quickly the traffic changed. It became so much faster, so much more crowded, and so much more stressful – and I wasn’t even the one driving.

When I lived in Kansas City, I thought this kind of traffic was normal. It didn’t stress me out. I knew the city like the back of my hand, and I could drive most places on autopilot. But now that I’ve lived away from it for over a year, the city feels very overwhelming. I’ve definitely become accustomed to the slower pace of driving in Joplin. And I have no desire to return to city driving.

I have, in fact, successfully contracted my life. The grocery store is five minutes away, as is the doctor. Our church is ten minutes away, and the airport is close by. I don’t mind at all. On the days when I have to drive across town – say, for instance, to the dentist — it feels like I’m making a long journey. And it’s only 20 minutes. This stands in contrast to Kansas City driving, where no one bats an eye over a 20-minute drive, and many trips are 40 minutes or more.

Traffic is light here, most of the time. And when traffic is heavy, it’s nothing like the painfully slow, packed streets of Phnom Penh. I didn’t even drive in Phnom Penh. Traffic was so stressful that the very first week we lived there, I decided never to drive in it. And the traffic only worsened over the years. That means I experienced Phnom Penh traffic only as a passenger, either in a vehicle with Jonathan driving (and probably getting stressed out) or in a tuk tuk.

So whether I compare Joplin traffic to Kansas City traffic or to Phnom Penh traffic, I will choose Joplin every time. It is relaxed and unrushed, and I love it. Initially it was stressful learning the art of the traffic circle, but now I love its simplicity. And at first it was disorienting to try to find my way around a new town, but these days I’m more familiar with the layout. Now that I’ve lived here awhile, I’m not sure I could ever go back to city driving, and I’m perfectly content with that.

Book Review: Where the Light Fell

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by Jonathan

I thought I’d like this memoir from Philip Yancey, but I had no idea it would be such a page turner, lurching from fundamentalism to racism to grace to dysfunction to mercy to LSD to classical piano to faith and on and on and on.

“An upbringing under a wrathful God does not easily fade away.”

For someone who’s written so much (and so gently) about suffering and grace, I should not have been surprised at the terror, trauma, and healing present in Yancey’s story.

“Like every secret, it gained power as it lay hidden.”

If you’ve wrestled with religious burn out, or if you’ve had a hard time reconciling the church with Christ, you might resonate with this book.

“As a boy wandering in the woods, a teenager constructing a psychic survival shell, a lovesick college student running from the Hound of Heaven — in all those places I found what T.S. Eliot called ‘a tremour of bliss, a wink of heaven, a whisper.’ I came to love God out of gratitude, not fear.”

This book will endure for quite some time, I think.

Find it on Amazon here.*

*Amazon affiliate link

Dead Grass

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by Jonathan

It was a weird shape outside my childhood bedroom window. A trapezoidal spot of dead grass that appeared during a terribly hot stretch of a long August, drawing unwanted attention in an otherwise green yard.

My parents had built their dream home several years prior, and they had taken particular care to tend the lawn. My parents had done well, which made this blight of death even more odd.

I remember digging with my dad.

I remember the smell of dirt, of mystery being unearthed.

And I remember striking plywood, oddly shaped, a few inches below the surface. Apparent detritus from the building process, it had somehow gotten buried under two or three inches of dirt. The grass had grown well there, for a time. But the roots weren’t deep enough for the long haul. The grass had withered.

For many in this season of pandemic and politics, of race and abuse, the grass has withered. It’s been a long season in our country and in our churches, and some things have wilted in weird ways. Blades that were once virile are burned, and we’re scared of digging. We’re scared of what we might find if we start overturning sod.

For some, the digging has already commenced. It’s terrifying, for sure, but the mess of unearthing the blockage is paving the way for a reseeding. Maybe.

And you?

Have you found yourself wondering where the life has gone? Have you felt the scorch of disappointment and confusion, like you’ve been bearing witness to the scouring of the Shire?

Perhaps it’s time to grab a shovel, not to destroy or annihilate, but to exhume. Perhaps there’s some piece of plywood that’s been neglected a season too long.

But remember, shovels are useful for planting, too.

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Scot McKnight spent a few newsletters talking about these ideas, so if these musings resonate at all, continue your excavation here:

  1. Beyond Deconstruction: Start Here
  2. Beyond Deconstruction: Second Term
  3. Beyond Deconstruction: Third Term

Marriage as confinement or freedom: notes from a wedding

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by Jonathan

I’ve had the privilege recently to officiate a couple of weddings. It’s one of those roles where people really won’t remember anything you say or do unless you mess up. THEN people remember. Anyways, I thought I’d share some of my notes from a recent wedding.

[Condensed and slightly edited speaking notes]

I just want to do two things today: Remind you of the beauty of marriage (Hint: it’s even better than the wedding), and offer a blessing for your union.

First: The Beauty of Marriage

Marriage is for intimacy.

The sharing of souls and dreams and flesh.

The first taste of summer.

Remember, marriage, the joining together of two unique persons, predates sin and exists beyond it. Marriage is NOT simply two wicked sinners scratching to eek out an existence together. That’s WAY TOO SMALL! It’s way too POST-fall and not enough POST-resurrection.

Marriage satisfied Adam and Eve. Marriage excites Jesus. The first marriage was designed by a loving Father, for joy and companionship. Closeness. It was good. The last marriage is a proclamation of Love’s victory and our salvation that echoes in eternal joy and companionship and glory.

The wedding supper of the LAMB.

A celebration such as the world has never seen.

“Happy are those who have been invited to the wedding feast of the Lamb!” (Rev 19:9)

Your marriage is an echo of that! That’s fantastic! In his book, Reversed Thunder, Eugene Peterson says this about salvation:

“The root meaning in Hebrew of ‘salvation’ is to be broad, to become spacious, to enlarge. It carries the sense of deliverance from an existence that has become compressed, confined, and cramped.”

Salvation allows for an ever-expanding vision. Salvation is not just a get out of jail free card. Marriage doesn’t save you. Of course it doesn’t. That’d be heretical and I’m too tired for that. I’m NOT saying marriage can save you. I AM saying that marriage can be a raw, earthy reminder of a fantastical, cosmic truth.

Two people, in a faithful and loving marriage, can show an existence and an intimacy that broadens over time, that becomes spacious, roomy, and secure. Marriage is the mysterious coming together of two people; the blending of heart and vessel and marrow. The tearing of the veil. Intimate.

Your marriage does NOT have to be a place where you become compressed, confined, and cramped. It can in fact become a place where you become more deeply known than you can even fathom. Deeply known. Fully loved. AND FREE. Show the world THAT.

Marriage is a beautiful thing. Marriage is a great gift, and we honor the Giver when we accept the gift with joy and excitement (AND A PARTY!). We honor him when we treasure each other, respect each other, serve each other, know each other. Yes, marriage is sometimes hard, and life is not all peaches and cream, but it really can be beautiful.

And number two, I’d like to offer a simple marriage blessing.

May your marriage be beautiful. May it remind you often that God gives good gifts. Very good gifts.

May you remember that God didn’t put Adam and Eve together to give them holiness, but a companion, a comrade, confidant, and friend.

May people look at your love and see that there is a God and he is awesome.

May you show the world – and the Church – that it’s not about submission or obedience or “who’s in charge.” That in your love and mutual submission, you will race each other to the bottom. And when you get to the bottom, may you find love, wholeness, joy, peace, and life. In other words, Jesus.

May you laugh often. At each other, with each other, because of each other.

And if and when God fills your home with children, may you sit around the table and laugh and laugh and laugh.

May you taste heaven when you taste each other.

And when you walk through the shadowlands, and you will walk through the shadowlands, may the One who led you together continue to lead you together.

He is the Creator of the soaring mountaintops and the scary valleys. May he sustain you and remind you.

May 2021 be the best year of your marriage. Until 2022. And may 2022 be the best year of your marriage. Until 2023.

May you experience the intense joy of being known, deeply, and the great honor of knowing another.

May your love, promised and given on this day, echo into eternity. May people hear your stories, witness your love, and say from now until forever, “Look at what the Lord has done!”

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A Marriage Blessing originally appeared here.

Click here for more resources on Marriage.

To listen to part one of our three-part podcast on marriage, click here.

The initial quote about marriage being for intimacy comes from this article.