What's In A Name?

There are 45 pine trees that surround my home. To be more precise, there are 45 blue spruce trees that form an outline around the two acres that our house sits on.

I think there's a deep seated human need to be encircled.

When we were little people we knew that when we were hurting all we wanted was for someone to hold us until the bandaid was on the skinned knee. All we really wanted was for our mother's arms to assure us that nothing more was going to hurt us. And we were honest enough – perhaps brave enough – to ask for what we needed.

Now, as big people we rarely have the courage to be truthful with ourselves about what we need.

The 45 pines around our property comfort me. They tower 50 or more feet into the sky. They've been there since 1880, when the house was built. They build semi-transparent "walls" between our house and the neighbors. They moan and sway with the wind. They have been through every kind of trauma that the weather could send their way. Incredibly, they are all roughly the same height and there are no gaps in the outline where a tree has died or been replaced.

These trees remind me of the best of community: encircling, shielding, alive, accessible, enduring.

These trees, for me, are the physical manifestation of the arms of God. These "arms" are encircling, shielding, living and are enduring for me.

I pastor a small church of people who have been marginalized by traditional Christianity. We're trying to learn to be all the things the 45 pines in my backyard can teach us about community and can teach us about God. It's not easy. We try to be gentle with each other. We are learning to be more gentle with ourselves as well.

Welcome to my blog. I'm not sure where we're going. It will just be one day at a time. Learning about community together.