Imago Dei
For Lenten Season, members of the Juniper Formation Leadership Team and community have been sharing daily reflections through the Daily Ripple app and Substack. This week’s reflections are written by Theo Isoz (they/them).
(un)sure
John 20:3-9
Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus’s head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed, for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead.
Here is a portrait of two disciples, racing to the resurrection they do not yet comprehend, their hearts pounding as they arrive at an empty tomb. Can you see it? Can you feel it in your body? The one disciple reaches the tomb and stops short. What keeps him from entering - fear, uncertainty, timidity? This is a pivotal moment of faith and change, and yet he remains at the threshold, uncertain, quiet. Simon Peter barges in on the scene with his usual abrupt and unreserved fashion; he enters the experience of transformation.
I relate to this moment, I can feel the experience of the disciple standing to the side, observing, unsure. Oftentimes, I shame myself for my timidity, where I am unsure of myself and my place in a new setting. “Just do something already! Figure it out! Be more brave. Take a step. Why do you have such little faith?” Unsurprisingly, this is unhelpful.
Simon Peter has access to something else, in his body, in his being, that allows him to leap into the transforming moment.
How do you ground yourself in who you are as a dear created child of God, so that you remember the ground on which you are taking your steps of faith?
Communal Feeling
Hebrews 11:37-38
They were stoned to death; they were sawn in two; they were killed by the sword; they went about in skins of sheep and goats, destitute, persecuted, tormented— of whom the world was not worthy. They wandered in deserts and mountains and in caves and holes in the ground.
I remember reading this passage before this year and thinking, “How gruesome!” As a person who cannot handle horror and violence well, I wanted to cover my eyes from these verses, like I do in a movie.
This year, I am living in a season of grief and dying. What I have witnessed of death is gruesome and terrible, even when done in the kindest way possible. Some days, it feels appropriate to my insides to wander destitute and tormented; I want to stand in public, rend my clothes, and make guttural, indescribable cries.* Why is no one else screaming? How is everyone else ok?
I read an article this year about the prophetic literature and sign acts (like Isaiah walking around naked and barefoot for three years) as a form of communal processing of the trauma of a people in exile. Sometimes, we have to write about the gruesome reality. Some days, we need to be publicly demonstrative about the vulnerable reality of our suffering, giving voice to the grief in our bodies. We are not alone; we need each other to make it through as a community.
*There are also some days when it all just feels normal now. The spring comes and my lungs are filled with air and my skin absorbs the sunlight. The company of loving humans reminds me of life.
How can you be more honest in sharing your joy and suffering more vulnerably with others? How can you make more intentional room for the joy and suffering of others?
The Story of Faith
Hebrews 11:1, 3
Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen…. By faith we understand that the worlds were prepared by the word of God, so that what is seen was made from things that are not visible.
Hebrews 11:39
Yet all these, though they were commended for their faith, did not receive what was promised.
I hate the way that death feels like it ends a storyline for a person. The cosmic story is so much longer than a lifespan. My spouse died 3 months ago, and they left with so many open-ended story arcs, many of which were mid-turmoil and rising action portions of the timeline. I remain bothered in a deep-soul way by the resolutions they will not see.
A friend recently asked me, “Since Jackson had time in hospice, do you feel like you got some of the closure you needed before they died?” To which, I basically laughed out loud. “No. No, I did not.”
We want closure and resolution so deeply. What do we do with a reality in which closure is not available to us? What do we do with storylines that don’t end, or end in failure, or never resolve?
I don’t think that this is a place for fake platitudes, “Everything happens for a reason.” And yet, I also find myself searching for the parts that are unseen. Where is the hope that is currently not visible?
Between these two sets of verses, the author spends 36 verses describing the story of faith throughout the generations of Israel which reminds me how our community story-telling is integral to our faith development.
What are your life stories of beauty and hope that you return to in times of difficulty, death, and questioning? How do you create spaces for community storytelling to support each other’s anchoring of faith?
Imago Dei
Psalm 18:19
[God] brought me out into a broad place;
they delivered me because they delighted in me.
Today’s Ripple will be short, because I want you to take a moment to meditate and feel it in your soul, in your body.
In what areas of life are you needing to be brought to a broad, open, safe place for some respite? How does it feel to breathe deeply there, to rest? Stay here for a while, experiencing God’s support.
Now, spend some time in God’s delight. You are imago dei, and what an image of God you are, full of inherent glory, worth, beauty, dignity. What parts of you are hiding, shrinking away from God’s delight? What parts of you need to experience delight today? How does it feel in your soul, in your body to remember that God is delighted in you?
How might you minister to others by sharing this experience of safety? How might you intentionally witness and delight in the imago dei of the people around you today?
Questioning
Isaiah 49:7
Thus says the Lord,
the Redeemer of Israel and his Holy One,
to one deeply despised, abhorred by the nations,
the slave of rulers,
“Kings shall see and stand up;
princes, and they shall prostrate themselves,
because of the Lord, who is faithful,
the Holy One of Israel, who has chosen you.”
Dear ones who are despised and abhorred by our nation, you are the chosen ones in this story. To align with God is for us to seek and uplift you.
It is easy to forget in our national context that the Hebrew Bible, the ministry of Jesus, the writings of the New Testament authors, were all clearly against empire. Our own experiences of trauma, power, violence, and colonization have misshaped our theology. Contrary to what many of us were taught, it is a spiritual practice to question and wrestle, especially with power.
We have to build our questioning muscles by intentionally creating space for the voices of those who are missing. Slow down and think of the voices of leadership in your life. Who is missing? It will only do harm to invite people who will be unsafe; we have to be in continual work to change our settings so that we can be in healing relationships with our most vulnerable communities.
What happens if you see disagreement and questioning (or even conflict!) as spiritual? How might you strengthen your spiritual practice of questioning and grappling with power?