Offering 2 | Springtime
on crossing thresholds + finding the living pilgrim way
“Sometimes flowers grow in the soil of ashes
Pick 'em as you go down Goodbye Road” —Johnny Swim + Drew Holcomb & the Neighbors
It was an unusually warm, windy, and blessedly bright day at the beginning of February when my mom, grandmother, and I hopped into the car and drove to a nearby college town to visit a revival that had only just begun at Asbury University in Wilmore, Kentucky (we arrived during its 29th hour—it would continue for another 307 hours). Several hours before our departure, on the morning of that same day, my oldest sister (whose husband is on staff at the university) texted us to say, “Revival’s still going on at Asbury if anyone wants to come! Not sure what time I’m leaving, but the doors are open.” With close ties to the university coupled with a heritage of faith rooted in a Wesleyan tradition (Asbury was founded on the Wesleyan theological tradition), our decision to journey the short distance to Wilmore was effortless.
In the words of my mom, “The Spirit is moving and I don’t want to miss it”. Neither did I.
Under a beautifully vibrant blue sky and through tremendous gusts of wind, we made our way towards Hughes Chapel Auditorium, each step carrying us towards a great chorus of angelic voices, made discernible even through the mighty wind. We climbed the great steps of Hughes and stepped onto holy ground and would not leave for six hours.
My intention in briefly sharing about the Asbury revival in this offering is not to dissect or convince anyone of what did (or did not) happen during those two weeks in a rural two stoplight town where heaven met earth in an unexpected and puzzling way. Many Christians, often in the vein of superior intellectualism, have already taken the liberty to do that and frankly I’m not interested in playing intellectual wars where God is made to live inside the box of my feeble understanding.
It is a foolish pursuit to attempt to usurp the divine in the name of mortal intellectualism—just look at the Pharisees. The spark they attempted to snuff out by having Jesus crucified on a cross was the very movement that lit the resurrection flame—the flame that had been held safe all along.
The Spirit of God goes forth—eternal springtime cannot be stopped.
What I am confident in sharing about my experience is this: when we crossed the threshold into the chapel on that glorious February day, the curiosity and anticipation that had been growing on the blustery walk from the parking lot to Hughes chapel auditorium was completely crushed under the weight of unrestrained awe—we had entered into the presence of the living God, the pilgrim way was set before our very eyes…and our eyes did see it.
Keeping our eyes open to the hidden mysteries of the Kingdom is the fight of our lives, dear readers. The propensity towards pharisaical seeing runs deep in each one of us—we long to know the secrets of the Kingdom of God, but we refuse to face the secrets inside of ourselves. In order to see the path of life—this sacred pilgrim way—spread out before us and living within us, we must be willing to let the light of Christ’s eternal springtime burst into the darkest caverns of our white washed tombs and lead us out into the gentle breeze where the echoes of Eden wait to whisper secrets in our ears.
Eyes That See
At the time of my writing this spring offering, it is Holy Week and I’ve been spending some time contemplating what it means to live with eyes that aren’t just open, but eyes that can actually see. I’m drawn to Paul’s words in Ephesians 1:18-21 NASB:
“I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened, so that you will know what is the hope of His calling, what are the riches of the glory of His inheritance in the saints, and what is the boundless greatness of His power toward us who believe. These are in accordance with the working of the strength of His might which He brought about in Christ, when He raised Him from the dead and seated Him at His right hand in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the one to come.”
This hope, these riches of His glory, the boundless greatness of His power—these are all ours to behold in accordance with the power of Christ’s resurrection from the dead.
In my experience of growing up in the culture of American Christianity (and now raising my own children within it ), I’ve noticed that we are often given a template for belief, but seldom are we taught the language of beholding the pilgrim way—this living path—spread mercifully beneath our feet and planted within our very being. In order to find this resurrected path, we must come to understand that believing and beholding are two very different things—there is a vast chasm between them.
In the twentieth chapter of John’s gospel, we catch a glimpse of this great and painful chasm. It is the first day of the week and Mary Magdalene has just found the tomb empty. She is distraught and bewildered—where have they taken the Lord? She believes that Jesus is gone from the tomb, but it isn’t until she hears her name that she perceives and beholds—Christ has not been moved, he is alive! Jesus, whom at first she thinks is a gardener, is in her very midst, but it is his living voice that enlightens her eyes—“I have seen the Lord” (John 20:18 NASB).
There are tombs in each of our lives, dark places that are wrapped in the shrouds of death—pride, greed, discontentment, anger, disease, the grips of anxiety and depression, disappointment, loneliness, frustration…the list is endless. We believe the tomb is empty, we remember the promise of resurrection, and yet we still, like Mary, painfully cry out with eyes that do not see, “Where is our Lord?”. Where is he when the blood of innocent children is spilled onto the floors of their fourth grade classroom? Where is he when death knocks at the door of children hooked up to ventilators?
The tomb is empty, but where is our Lord?
“I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened…”—this, dear readers, is the only way home. In order to truly see, we must learn to listen for the resurrected voice that knows us by name and invites us to walk the living path of his pilgrim way.
The shrouds of death are being unraveled—we are invited to learn the language of beholding.
Beholding Through Art
Since the start of the year, I’ve been engaging in art journaling as a spiritual practice. It has transformed my prayer life, revealing new depths of worship, healing, and contemplation as I’ve learned to be still and wait for the movement of the Holy Spirit.
I begin each page by journaling through a piece of the interior journey taking place in my heart and head—a question I’m wrestling with, a place of pain, doubt, or confusion I need to move through, a theme that I keep stumbling upon, a scripture I’m drawn to (I often pair the spiritual practice of Lectio Divina with art journaling). And then I ask the Holy Spirit to grant me the holy imagination to unravel this inner journey through art—a combination of collage (magazine cuttings, sheet music, old post cards, etc.), acrylic, watercolor, stamping, stickers, vintage ephemera, and everything in between.
I create slowly and there is no expectation or pressure of what the pages should become—this is holy space for the Spirit to move and show me what I need to behold.
For Holy Week, my process has been no different. I knew I wanted to take time to focus on the theme of resurrection and what it means in the midst of a world still laden with the constricting shrouds of death. The shrouds are being unraveled, but at times it seems as though they are merely being tangled up in knots of unspeakable pain—happening in my community and communities afar. I prayerfully processed through my grief, questions, and laments, and then waited for the Lord to guide my hands in the way of holy creation.
Here is a glimpse of my Holy Week pages (with the journaling marked out)…
These pages are precious to me, holding sacred secrets and honest communion—a journey of humble creation, a thin place where I am invited to behold the movement of the Creator. What am I missing, Lord? What do I need to see that I’ve not yet seen? While I can’t fully articulate the depth and breadth of all that was revealed to my heart through this Holy Week entry, I do hope to pass along this:
We are not pilgrimaging to a resurrected kingdom—the resurrected kingdom is pilgrimaging inside of us. This living pilgrim way, the power of our resurrected Christ, is inside of us! It is beneath our feet at every turn, moving with us as we come and as we go—across our kitchen floors, the ground beneath our office chairs, the hallways of our children’s schools, the sidewalks right outside our doors. The kingdom of God lives within us (Luke 17:21), but are we living in such a way that its power and renewal is able to live through us?
It is ours—not merely to believe…but to behold.
Christ’s power in our life is made manifest in our weaknesses (2 Corinthians 12:9), in a million little deaths along our way. Beneath the cold dark soil of our lives, there lies an imperishable resurrected seed, this living pilgrim way—and a garden of flowers waits to burst forth each time we choose to die to self and behold the life of his resurrection power.
Death to anger—gentleness blooms. Death to greed—contentment springs forth. Death to striving—rest emerges. Death to hopelessness—perseverance rises.
Because Christ crossed the threshold from darkness to light, from death to life, we are enabled by the power of this living resurrection to cross thresholds in all of our moments, too. If we have been joined to Christ through his life, death, burial, and resurrection, there is no place where the path is too far off—it is as close as our very breath.
But we, dear readers, must have eyes to see.
Jesus is the seed that falls to the earth and dies. The cross is a garden, pregnant with the life of a thousand blooms, tiny resurrections waiting to burst forth from the soil of our lives…from this living path who chooses to make his home in each of us.
Through Little Eyes
About a year ago, our children being three and five at the time, we started to give language to the living paths set before us—the path of life and light and the path of death and darkness (Deuteronomy 30:19). They’re both spread before us and at war within us. In turn, disciplining our children has shifted from external control to interior awareness—for all of us.
Where are we headed on the highways of our hearts? Are we living with eyes to see this light and darkness that greets us at every turn?
The paths of the Creator are not given to us as damage control. They are given to us to teach us the way of rest and safety. We want the eyes of their hearts—and ours—to be open to these living paths in the midst of our lives. God is waiting for us all to behold them.
We don’t just talk about the Kingdom of God as if it were a far off place awaiting our arrival, we remind them that it is right here in our midst, being renewed and restored or neglected and abandoned by the very choices we make. Our every moment is a threshold—an invitation to rest in the path of life or sink deeper into the darkness of sin.
Little children are capable of seeing and carrying the secrets of the Kingdom—they often see them more clearly than we do. Ask me how I know and I’ll tell you the story of a three year old little girl with crocodile tears in her eyes saying, “Mommy, you chose the dawkness”, in a moment where her sinful mother chose to yell in frustration instead of dying to herself.
…But oh, what grace—grace for her broken mother and grace for her broken self—the path of life is one of abundant mercy, I remind us both—darkness does not have the last word. For those who trust Jesus, we may stumble into the snares of darkness, but we will not get lost on its path. The way of repentance is extended by the staff of our gentle Shepard who knows His sheep and is capable of guiding us back towards the light.
We know the voice of our Shepard—our soul can rest. This living pilgrim way, this imperishable seed, has come to dwell with us and in us and is held safe and secure by his resurrection power alone.
We are Easter people—praise God! We don’t just get to believe…WE GET TO BEHOLD!
“This is what the Lord says: ‘Stand by the ways and see and ask for the ancient paths,where the good way is, and walk in it; Then you will find a resting place for your souls’”. —Jeremiah 6:16 (NASB emphasis added)
WELCOME TO THE TRYSTING PLACE—
a contemplative space at the end of each offering for you to quiet your soul and slow down in the presence of your Creator. Settle in with all three sections or choose just one, moving through them at a pace that is right for you. This is designed to be a spacious place for your soul—a sacred rhythm for your life.
CADENCE & CURIOSITY—
an invitation to quietly contemplate and become curious about what is stirring in the depths of your heart.
• During this spring season, begin to imagine your life as a living garden with tiny Kingdom blooms waiting to burst forth from the soil of your life.
What areas of your life do you need to die to your self in order to begin truly beholding (not just believing) the resurrection power that waits to emerge from His living path within you?
CADENCE & CONVERSATION—
an invitation to reflect on and share what the Lord is revealing to you in this season. Use this as a personal and private extension of reflection or use it to share your heart with other readers in this community of fellow pilgrim-souls. I’d love to hear from you in the comments!
• Spend some intentional time praying through Ephesians 1:18-21, replacing the word “your” with “my”. Pay attention to the words and phrases that provoke movement within your spirit. Do you feel hopeful reading these words? Does anything make you uncomfortable? What stood out to you?
You are an embodied soul—begin to pay attention to your internal and external responses and use them as a launchpad to guide your conversation with the Lord.
CADENCE & CUE—
The final stop in each offering—a cue to still your soul before the things that are good, true, and beautiful as you ponder how you might carry them with you into your season!
I’ve got a couple of FUN ones for you this season and a bonus if you’re feeling up for the challenge:
Listen to the song Goodbye Road by JohnnySwim + Drew Holcomb and the Neighbors. Goodbye Road is the road less traveled, but on it we find this living pilgrim way that has resided within us all along. It carries us from death to death, spreading ashes beneath our feet, but if we can learn to behold, we may just begin to see the resurrection flowers that are growing “from the soil of ashes”.
Sit with this song for a bit—what does it mean for you in this season? Where do you need to re-route in order to find Goodbye Road? What paths do you need to leave behind?
Watch the documentary Many Beautiful Things directed by Laura Waters Hinson—you can find it on YouTube. It is a beautifully crafted documentary about the recovered journals of English missionary and artist, Lilias Trotter, a courageous woman of faith who took her own “goodbye road” and had eyes to see many beautiful things. You are sure to be delighted!
BONUS—consider starting your own art journal as a spiritual practice—this has truly been so life giving and transformative for me.
We are creative beings—each one of us. When our left brain and right brain work together—something comes alive in us in a new way.
An art journal is a safe place to visually process your interior life and learn to lift your soul up to the Lord. I’ve created pages on various different themes based on what the Lord seems to be stirring in my spirit. Sometimes I use it to expand on things I’m reading—a book quote I’ve read that I want to journal through and unpack more through art…the possibilities are endless. It is an invitation to cultivate a spirit of creative obedience as an act of worship.
If you’re not sure where to start, check out Jenna Byrne Art Journaling on YouTube. She is a wealth of creative inspiration and has videos on where to start and supplies needed.
Happy art journaling and HAPPY, HAPPY SPRINGTIME!
Thanks for reading Cadence & Canticle— I’m so glad you stopped by. May you leave this space blessed and heartened as you return to the soil and stewardship of your life. I’d love for you to join this community of fellow pilgrim-souls!
I can’t believe you went to Asbury! I’m in Nashville so it wasn’t that far away. Lovely words.
Thanks Lindsay--so glad you stopped by 🤍