When the World Shakes
JENNIFER CAMP
5 min read ⭑
I have so few answers. I know so little. The world feels so dangerous. Dare I lift my head? Dare I not hide? I want to hide. I want to be brave, and I want to hide, too. I think about my responsibility as a human. It’s like a job I will get fired from if I don’t meet the agreed-upon requirements, essentially the things I signed up for when I was born, or at least when I became more of an adult.
Do hard things. Believe in what is good. See what is evil and fight against it. Don’t think of just your own needs. Don’t ignore your needs. Notice danger and seek peace. Create beauty out of what you have. Seek beauty everywhere. Don’t give up. Smile.
Believe there is goodness in most places, even if you can’t see it right away. Close your eyes and feel. Open your eyes and see what is around you. Organize chaos. Create order out of disorder. Be honest. Seek truth. Don’t settle for lies. Journey to the deep places within you that remember the moment God dreamed you up. Stay there.
Retrieve the broken pieces you lost when you were hurt. Retrieve the broken pieces. See them scattered along the ground, where your feet kick them in the dust. Close your eyes and see. Be real. Be here. Be timeless.
What do I know now? How do I know how to live a life?
I sit in a calm room. A candle lit. Morning light illuminates the room as it shines through a window. The air is still, so the candle’s flame sways gently, then trembles briefly as it burns. I remember hearing how the Franciscan priest Richard Rohr begins his day by lighting and looking at a candle. He lights it and gazes at the burning center, asking his heart if it is ready for the day. He waits and sits as long as it takes for his heart to align with his head — for the two to be in agreement — and then he and his heart and his mind, together, set out. He waits for his heart to know rest.
In this stillness, I listen:
Yes, we have some things to work out. There is some fear, some internal chaos for you to recognize. Let us deal with it together. Focus. Listen. Relax. See Me. Surrender.
I wonder if I am getting better at surrender.
You will never stop getting better at surrender.
The most loving people must be the ones most self-forgetful. They must allow love to ground them. They must be mindful of being grounded by this love, so they are secure and able to love other people — feel love for other people — all while they know they are so deeply loved themselves.
In hard conversations, when I feel my mind and body fully engaged, absorbing another person’s words — usually hearing how I have hurt them, made a mistake, been selfish, dishonest or mean — I try not to run away emotionally. It is a new experience for me, as I used to feel the words but not hear them. I would push against them, railing against someone else’s disappointment in me.
When I learned that I had failed someone, I felt untethered — the ground had been pulled away from my feet and I had nothing to stand on. I could feel myself falling, falling away from myself, from the foundation I had tried to build for myself, and I would fight, with words and emotion as an attempt to keep myself upright, to not dissolve into the nothingness. Other people’s disappointment in me was intolerable.
An idol is false security. It is never a sure place to stand.
A family member I love, decades older than me, told me once how they live mostly in memory now. There is more life behind them than life ahead of them, they’ve decided, so that days now feel comparably predictable, mundane and small. How do we continue to live as if all of life is yet ahead of us, despite our earthly age? How do we keep our eyes open, our hearts ready to absorb the pain of living, all the while having an increasingly strong belief that there is so much more to hope for ahead?
You hold so much. You hold too much.
How do we live freely, in this world of chaos and fear, with hearts brave and open despite the pain that comes? How do we live with integrity, unashamed and fearless in our willingness to believe life is always just beginning? How do we pray “Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven” with great hope in our hearts, not cynicism, closed-heartedness and dismay? How do we love one another and love the world when dark beliefs convince us that darkness is stronger than light?
I am in all things. Even in darkness, I bring light.
This world is shaking. It trembles in its pains. We feel like children, filled with questions: What?! Why? How? How do I respond? How do I have hope? How do I keep my head lifted, my eyes focused and clear, my heart open to love and love and love?
“How can we — you and I — make our corners of this world a little bit better with love and kindness and forgiveness and mercy?”
Give me faith in what I cannot see, Lord. I know so little. I have so few answers. Let me not run from myself — and from pain, and from your heart for this world. Keep my heart yours.
Do what is before you to do. Fill your heart. Fill it. Let it be filled so it spills over. That is it. Fill it and let it spill over. But what will you fill it with? To what will you turn? Be strong. Be courageous.
Be loved.
Be loved.
Be loved.
Hope
I remember you in quiet moments
when my heart searches for home,
where the air is wide, expansive,
the valley floor far beneath and
the bark of the tree rough, its skin
pressed against my palm.
In the branches hangs the ladder fashioned from rope,
the knots bulky and sure.
I know it holds, for I have climbed it,
up into the leafy branches of
the hideaway where
we look into each other’s eyes
and tell stories of what we want
what will be
and what exists now.
You exist now
as I twist my hands
around the rope and climb.
From the perch I can see the water rushing below,
the river wild and blue,
the white water churning and surging,
and I know if I jumped, you would
reach in and find me, show me how
to ride the madness,
endure and keep my head
lifted and swim.
“Evil and suffering wouldn't exist if we were as good as God is.”
—Nancy Leigh DeMoss
How can we — you and I — make our corners of this world a little bit better with love and kindness and forgiveness and mercy?
Jennifer Camp is a poet and listener who delights in investigating the deeper places of the heart. She founded Gather Ministries with her husband, Justin, is Editor-at-Large of Rapt Interviews and manages Loop Collective, a community for women who reject complacency and pursue connection with God.
