First the Good News, now This - Tim Knipp (Matt. 6, 11, 13)

"Are you He?
Tell me please - "
Healer, helper,
tender teacher,
spotlit traveler
through a world
of grief.
Are You the answer
and if so, why
do questions 
persist like
carrion flies?

Take a tiny seed and sow it -
in time it becomes a tree;
grains of yeast hidden,
will raise dough to 
overflow
the bowl.

Ages overlap,
like tectonic plates,
shifting,
shaking,
lifting and rumbling
to break and change
the landscape.
Your Kingdom come
in this place and time:
melting hearts like 
lava oozing
from stone,
shake and shiver
souls 
to unite islands,
let continents collide
and coalesce.

Seek it and we will 
see it,
breathe it in 
and it will penetrate
our pores,
animate our limbs
and infect
our finances.

Your Kingdom come
here and now
amid these smelly
ruins;
dip your rags
in our blood and 
bandage our 
splintered hearts;
plant hope again,
in the deep 
and the 
dark.

Rest: Outside series - Christian Lindbeck (Ps. 4:8)

Blessed, blessed rest;
letting go, releasing all,
succumbing
to somnolence.
Essential essence,
mysterious,
dark,
unnerving,
sleep is a reminder
that I am not the center.

Vulnerable.
Inert.
Unable to act,
we humbly sleep
while God does His work.

Sleep: a daily invitation
to accept limitation,
to trust the larger story,
to put myself
in perspective.

What am I?
A vapor,
a child whose father 
never sleeps,
limited,
broken
and in need of
recuperation.

Nature-sleeps
are heaven's vitamins:
the breath of plants
mingles with human inhalations,
trees calm
and dirt heals.

Breathe deep
the healing rhythms
of earth's fauna
and flora.
Respire
as ocean waves
roll in upon sand
then suction 
seaward
again
and 
again.

Sleep
and trust.
Sleep and trust.
Sleep
is
trust.

OUTSIDE -Tim Knipp - On the Mountain - Matt. 5, Ezra 27:16, Is. 2, Lu. 6:12

July 22, 2018

Notes from the Texas road. Thanks for the sermons on the Hillcrest website 

Outside Series - Christian Lindbeck - Listening Outside Psalm 148, Psalm 19 Romans 1

Finally got to listen to some of the message we've missed while on our epic road trip. We are listening in our trusty Honda on the bumpy Texas highway.

Tend and Protect: Outside Series - Tim Knipp (Gen. 4:9; 2:15; Num. 3:7; 8:26; 18:5)

We have been
called to care for
and tend 
our world
and one another.
Working in concert
with the giver of life -
trimming
and weeding
and feeding - 
we are rewarded
with beauty,
sustenance,
the promise of 
shalom.

Priests to the earth,
we kneel
to render our
work of 
service-worship.
Adorning earth's temple,
we mow grass
and shovel manure:
our holy orders.

Let us be shaped
and pruned
as we serve
and protect,
keep and tend.

Growing things
reveal intricacies 
of God's character,
like peeling layers
of onion releases
pungencies,
earthy and sharp;
as planting a seed
in darkness 
begins a process
of new life -
buried
to rise anew.

For Taste: Outside Series - Christian Lindbeck

A foretaste of glory divine,
intentionally designed
for survival
and pleasure
and connection.

Variety in texture,
temperature,
and tone;
combinations delightful
and divine.
Consider flavors -
ten thousands taste sensors 
provided to detect
and appreciate
nuance.


Dining is life sustaining,
soul-filling
and symbolic of shared life.
From the forbidden apple
to the Passover,
from the last supper 
to the final revelation banquet,
sharing a taste-fest
signifies connection.

Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine!

Meals as worship
begin in sweat:
muscles and ingenuity
working in consort
with the miraculous soil
to yield up ingredients.
Marvel at the color and shape
of each morsel -
the crunch of almonds or celery,
the tang of onion or cilantro -
provision as pleasure.

Thumbprints of heaven.

Outside Series: Walk the Walk – Tim Knipp (Gen. 3; Gen. 5; Lev. 26:11; John 3:22; John 4:3)

Trilling birds and crickets pause,

purple dusk flecks the air,

and the sound of God’s

walking trembles through

silvered leaves.

Walking faithfully

is moving through space and time,

endeavoring to match God’s stride;

joined as firmly as a shadow

to his pace

and

tottering along.

Faithful walkers develop calluses,

dust-grimed pedicures

and habits of reflective thought.

Stepping along paths

trod by elders and ancients,

toddlers and teens,

holds meaning beyond

merely transporting oneself

from A to B.

Christ too was a pedestrian

on earth.

No power-walk

or measured stride

but slow enough

to know

and be known.

God promises to co-walk with us,

physical steps on earthly soil 

or sidewalk,

and as we move

He moves in us,

beside us

and through us.

He knows us

and invites our knowing

at the pace

of a gentle 

stroll.