Author: Erin Kirk

On Cattle Dogs and Discouragement.

/ Erin Kirk / 6 Comments

It’s been one of those weeks and it’s only Wednesday.

My baby dog of nine years, Gracie, is lying at my feet with labored breathing and full-body swelling that four days in the doggie hospital couldn’t sort out.

Baby Grace in Colorado

Baby Grace and me in Colorado

Sam brought Gracie home for me as a present even before we were married, and although she rides with him every day in the front seat of the Ranger, like a little canine Lieutenant, she is my dog.

This morning at daylight, Sam and I had to work calves. For the first time in history, Gracie couldn’t go. Moving cattle hither and yon is her life’s work and even though she chewed the moulding off the kitchen door trying to prove she was up to the task, I know better. She is bad sick and nobody knows why.

Concurrently, I have a stuff coming up I need a little help with, not the least of which is the direction of this blog. So I decided to fast for a few weeks and try to get a little clarity.

Fasting is a spiritual practice that I’d never really tried, except when I gave up coffee for Lent. Since I did that successfully I figured I might try the three-week Daniel Fast. I’m on day three and having a hard time staying off the couch.

There’s a lot more to say about fasting and I will after I spend three weeks eating like a vegan monk at AA – no sugar, no coffee, no alcohol, only water and things that grow from seed. I noticed recently that I control what comes out of my mouth a lot better than I what goes in it and it’s a problem. So more on that later.

But most importantly, I had a long, discouraging email exchange with a potential literary agent yesterday. She said she would like to represent my work but my platform (code for how famous you are blog, Twitter, etc) is too darn small.

I can’t help but think of all the Kardashian-esque ways to fix that problem but that approach is a little incompatible with my work. Plus, Sam and I are old. So, you know, that’s out.

Hopefully, this low, hungry time, where I lay on the floor and pray for my dog, will be the rainstorm I need to rinse away all the non-essentials and come up sparkly and clean. That way we can get down to the way things are, just as fast as we can.

Where’s Your Territory?

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Last week two high school kids in Zambia went completely nuts when they found out, with only 48 hours to spare, their high school tuition was in the bank. On Monday morning they were out buying books and uniforms.

Picture 3

Telise (left) Fidelise (right)

I promised I would tell you how we raised the money, crowing about the mountains God moved, but in this case, there wasn’t much mountain moving, just garden-variety obedience.

Two people right here in Texas, who are already believing their heads off for rent, gas, insurance and food scraped up enough money to get Telise and Fidelise started. Then a couple more people wrote checks and now the second term is nearly in the bank. We need another $800 for third term.

There are no dramatic stories here, no millionaires in the bunch, just an unsexy, unheralded sacrifice made by regular folks who want to level the playing field slightly, to make the earth a little more like it is in heaven. There’s a lesson in that.

English: Bachalpsee in the morning, Bernese Alps

Bernese Alps (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

What we do might not be extravagant but when it’s done out of obedience to Jesus, it’s eternal. The work becomes a living part of the Kingdom of God, like a shiny new castle, a fuchsia azalea or an alpine lake.

I’m so glad Jesus has become the why behind my what, because it gives me context for the kind of work I’ve always wanted to do anyway.

So yes, the world is badly broken and the injustice is overwhelming, but remember we’re just responsible for our own territory, not the whole thing.

So where is your territory and what are you planting there?

This is What Love Does – Oklahoma.

/ Erin Kirk / 6 Comments

Before I started paying real attention to Jesus, I didn’t know Christians like Jeff Bethke existed. But this little video, performed by Bethke, a Jesus loving, scholar-poet, went up last year and now has nearly 25 million views.

Maybe there’s something to it.

I avoided Jesus for ages because I too have a problem with the Crusades and I don’t believe any US political party or denomination has a corner on Jesus. In fact, when I actually read the gospels, I snorted at the irony.

It was first-century religious and political leaders who killed Jesus, and he warned us to watch out for them. That is not my opinion, it’s in all four gospels.

I met Bethke at the Love Does Stuff conference. He’s 23. He’s never been to seminary but he’s a reader. After reading the gospel like he meant it, he read Bonhoffer, Tozier, Keller, Chan and Goff, authors who have rejected the idea of Jesus + __________.

It’s just Jesus period.

When asked by a lawyer what the greatest commands were, Jesus gave only two: Love God. Love others. And frankly, in tornado-wrecked Oklahoma today, we are actually doing a rather good job of that.

This nation, the one supposedly “gridlocked by political and religious division” is praying together in our messy melting pot ways. We are weeping for Oklahoma and pulling strangers from the rubble. That is what Jesus wants. That is what love does.

So if that’s who we are in crisis, why aren’t we that in calm? Why do we need disasters to eclipse our quotidian spitefulness?

Because we’ve bought into the same old religious/political lie that killed Jesus. We are separate, we are different, so we must be afraid.

But if Oklahoma proves anything it’s that we’re not separate. We are one, but we’ve got to pull each other out of the rubble – even people we don’t like. As Bob Goff said over the weekend,

“He (God) is going to send all sorts of people with different life orientations your way. Does that change one thing about what Jesus said?”

Love God. Love others. Period.