the refuge
love’s the thread & it’s stronger than we think
i love the book of colossians; i’ve shared here before that when my kids were little we had the NIV kids club cassette tapes (yes, we’re old) and i can pretty much sing all of chapter 3. each of these verses is a separate song:
“13 – therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselveswith compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. 14 – bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. forgive as the Lord forgave you. 15 - and over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.”
in the wild and crazy conversation last week about equality, the verse 15 song came to mind–“over all these virtues put on love, which binds them together in perfect unity.”
my friend & copastor at the refuge, karl wheeler (who just started a new blog–check it out because it’s going to rock, details below), often says that we mistake unity for uniformity. this is so true! we think that when we are all on the same page, we have unity. but that not true unity; instead, it’s homogeneity that was never the idea. the kingdom of God is about holding our differences in love.
real unity is honoring our differences and being bound together by love.
it’s the virtue that binds us all together.
one of the things i most deeply respect about life in our little wild refuge community is that we do not agree on everything. we don’t have a statement of faith that automatically discerns who believes what (you can read what we do have written down; it’s one of my most favorite things we’ve ever written) and weeds people out. we don’t espouse a “here’s what we are sure God says about this or that” or a membership class that people need to sign in on before they can be part. when it comes to some of these tough issues of our faith, we are all over the map, with far left & far right and everything in between all tangled up together.
it’s honestly one of the prettiest things i’ve ever seen.
rich & poor alongside, even though life is so different from each other. educated & uneducated alongside, because people are people no matter how much schoolin’ we’ve had. liberal & conservative alongside, because love supersedes political viewpoints. gay & straight alongside, even with different views theologically. married & single alongside, because we need each other desperately. men & women alongside, because friendship is a way to practice & learn the ways of love.
we don’t see each other through any of those labels. we see each other as human beings, created in God’s image, all with the most important thing in common–a desire to love & be loved.
when it comes to last week’s conversation, i want to highlight an important point about our life together. our gay friends aren’t here making sure everyone agrees with them & our straight friends with a more scriptural conservative bent aren’t trying to prove anything. the same is true about any of our other differences. the reason this works is because love is the thread that binds us all together. as a leader in this community, that’s what we work our asses off to try to cultivate: a culture of safety (not of comfort but of real safety in a loving, challenging christian community).
and in a true culture of safety, we can disagree.
in fact, disagreeing is good. when we don’t allow room for seeing things differently then we are in danger of creating more pockets of conformity and not living humbly in the tension of being uncomfortable. our discomfort & differences force us to rely on God’s spirit to help us let go & trust & learn & wait and love more freely.
the world doesn’t need more pockets of conformity. there are plenty of those to go around.
what we need are more brave expressions of little pockets of love & freedom, where Christ’s restoration of human dignity and value is at the center despite our differences. where humility is practiced in a very active way. where submission, one to another and not just one-way-that-works-for-those-with-the-most-power, is embedded into the fabric of life together.
but even though i think the refuge is awfully pretty (it’s ugly to the un-Jesus-trained eye, though, i promise), it is also a very tricky space to hold.
some have left over time, frustrated that we hold the tension between differing views on the Bible & theology. they want us to draw lines in the sand and make things clearer. some get annoyed at having to make friends with people who aren’t like them. others really want better music & teaching & comfier chairs & something a little more predictable.
we refuse.
because we think there’s much more to learn about the ways of Love through our differences and discomfort than through our we-all-think-and-believe-the-same-thing and church-is-about-being-comfortable default.
my hope for the movement in the body of Christ and community cultivation is not that we sway everyone over to a new side on any of these issues and then all camp out together. that would be way too easy (and is what i fear these hot topics will tempt people to do). my hope is that we find a way to be together in our differences. to create a culture of true safety that bravely lets go of telling-others-what-to-believe-with-utter-certainty-on-one-biblical-interpretation and instead wrestling with these hard realities of life together. to see God’s image in each other and have that be enough to keep us united even when we might see the scriptures or life or a whole host of things different from each other.
love’s the thread that binds us all together in perfect unity.
it’s stronger than we think.
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ps: karl’s blog is called church dreamer. check out the about page & his first blog post, Jesus hates flatscreens. oh yeah, it’s going to be fun.
dreaming & making what could be, be.
in honor of martin luther king, jr. day, i thought i would post a little excerpt about dreams from my book, down we go: living into the wild ways of Jesus. it was originally inspired by a post i wrote in 2007 for the refuge blog called “we have a dream”; then i modified it in 2009 for communitas collective & shared a re-dux in 2010 in honor of MLK day two years ago. last year, when i was writing the book, it went through another revision. each time i read it i am reminded that part of making what could be, be begins with dreaming.
however, the kingdom isn’t going to just drop out of the sky. we are going to have to be active participants in creating it. it is hard. it is uphill. it is against the grain. but it’s possible. and what Jesus challenges us to as his followers.
so here you go, some of my own little church-faith-life dreams, capital letters and all, from pages 85-87:
Making What Could Be, Be.
As a dreamer, I like to imagine what could be.
Despite some of my cynicism about church systems, I am still an idealist. Change is possible; otherwise I would have given up a long time ago. I am still foolish enough to think that our wild “God dreams” are possible. I think when Jesus said “Your Kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven” (Matthew 6:10), he meant that the Kingdom was possible now. I also know it’s possible because I see it every day in small and beautiful ways. I see the marginalized, forgotten, neglected and abused finding love and hope through healing community.
For a lot of us, it’s hard to dream. Almost every time I challenge people to dream it stirs up fear and trouble. We’ve hoped before and had many of our dreams dashed, mocked and called unrealistic or impractical. Many have tried to make their dreams a reality in systems that rejected them, and they’ve lost a lot of hope. The thought of opening hearts back up again is too scary. Others are in the midst of living out dreams and are finding how hard they can sometimes be. Often we can think of all the reasons our dreams won’t work, so why even try?
But here’s why I think we should try. These Kingdom ways aren’t supposed to be a pipe dream, or an elusive, unrealistic and unobtainable idea that we know will never happen. Jesus’ ways of upside down living require imagination and hope. They require crazy people willing to live out what’s embedded deep inside their hearts, regardless of the cost. They require courageous women and men who risk their money, time and pride to go against the flow of the powerful status quo and create little pockets of love that reflect Jesus, rather than the world. They require humble disciples, followers of Christ, who try as best they can to heal the sick, feed the hungry, care for the poor, love the unlovely, and pass on hope in places where there is none. Most of all, these Kingdom ways require people with eyes to see more beauty and hope in the often ugly, messy, downward journey than on the predictable, comfortable upwardly mobile path.
The other night I was with some Refuge friends at our house talking about dreaming. Even though I want people to dream big, I also want people to dream small. To value simple ways we can move toward more of Christ’s love, life and hope in this world. I shared with my friends how many years ago I dreamed of the kind of community I am now part of—one that was inclusive, authentic and healing, and valued generosity, equality and the practice of love, above all. In my dreams, it looked completely different. Trust me, it was a lot prettier, easier, bigger and brighter. Yet, even though my original picture was different, the flesh and bones of what I had hoped for has come true. I’m experiencing it in real life. I am grateful but also not afraid to keep dreaming for more. I want others to have a chance to taste and see, too.
So I keep dreaming, trying to play my small part in the bigger story.
When I stop and allow myself to really imagine, I dream that we’d be people who took Jesus’ words seriously. We can’t just talk about it, but we actually have to be forgiving, loving, sacrificing and humble. I hope we are people willing to give away our stuff, care for the widows and orphans, die to ourselves, hug lepers, love our neighbors, lay down power and make peace with our enemies.
I dream that all people would feel valued, regardless of our differences. I hope we become people who refuse to let color, socioeconomics, gender, theologies, shapes, sizes, or social abilities get in the way of seeing the image of God and respecting each other’s worth, value and contribution to this world. I hope we will continue to find ways for women, men, white, brown, poor and rich to work equally and fully alongside one other as brothers, sisters, leaders and friends.
I dream that the divide between “us and them” will continue to crumble.
I dream that Christ-followers will form into an underground army of advocates, that we will stand with the marginalized, oppressed, poor and unlovely, and will risk our pride, position and power so that someone with none could get a little.
I dream that damage from the past and present will not paralyze us from living out who God made us to be; instead, we’d use our story to help another person.
I dream a whole bunch of us will find ways to create little pockets of love in places that desperately need them so that we will be known by the world as “those crazy people who never give up on the hurting, the lost, the oppressed and the outcasts.”
Never be afraid to dream.
these are some of mine. what are some of your dreams, no matter how big or small?
3, well 4, christmas-y things
well here we go, the last few days before christmas. it was 67 degrees here in colorado yesterday & snowing today! it has been a really wild & crazy refuge week with several of my most favorite events–serving dinner at joshua station, a beautiful transitional housing program in denver that we love, our 6th annual refuge single moms crazy christmas brunch (with a visit from mrs. claus, in rare form), & our annual refuge christmas dinner celebration together, carols & games & great food together. a local grocery store helped us provide gifts for a bunch of families connected in some way, shape or form to the refuge, so it was pretty fun to get to play santa, too. yesterday i woke up really happy & grateful for our little wild community and also relieved that now it’s just cruising toward christmas eve. my kids are all off school & my son’s coming home from college tonight & i’m looking forward to a lot of movies & just hanging out together for the next few weeks (and hoping the 67 degree weather will return, ha ha).
i wanted to share a few christmas-y things before i sign off for the week.
first, here’s a video reflection from our saturday night’s gathering centered on God’s stories, our stories. it’s funny how 6 minutes feels so long in our fast-paced world but how nice it was to take the time to just soak in and be quiet. i also have no idea why the part that shows at the beginning is “is it a story of pain?” but i guess youtube somehow knows me too well?
second, tonight at 9pm eastern time, in honor of advent & Jesus entering into the world in the flesh, i’ll be having a twitter conversation with my throwing parties & telling stories friend steve knight about “incarnational vs. missional” we’ll converse on twitter & then have a skype chat afterward. would love for you to be part if you can. the hashtag is #missionalchat.
lastly, i thought i’d share this fun picture of my family because it makes me happy. i don’t share a lot about my kiddos here on the blog because they already have to put up with a lot of annoying things about me but i knew they wouldn’t mind this one! it’s our christmas picture this year & the good news is i’m jumping, although obviously not as high as jose. a year post-back-surgery it is a huge blessing. my kiddos range from almost 20 down to twins that are 12. life’s good.
i’ll close with this beautiful prayer from christine sine’s gorgeous advent liturgies and reflections–waiting for the light. we used it a few weeks ago at the refuge. i guess that’s actually 4 christmas-y things!
Come Down, Come In and Make Us Whole
This is a season of watchfulness.
We watch for the One who hears our cries and shares the suffering of our world.
This is a season of promise.
We wait for the promised coming of Emmanuel, God with us, God for us, God in us.
This is a season of reflection.
We expect to be transformed so we can be bearers of light in God’s kingdom.
So Come, Jesus, Come.
Into our troubles and weaknesses.
Into the barren places of our souls, Come Lord,
Come down, come in, come among us and make us whole.
Into the war torn and the refugee,
Into those who live in conflict, Come Lord,
Come down, come in, come among us and make us whole.
Into the homeless and the unemployed,
Into those who feel abandoned, Come Lord,
Come down, come in, come among us and make us whole.
Into the sick, and the disabled,
Into the struggling, the wounded, Come Lord.
Come down, come in, come among us and make us whole.
Into the lives of loved ones,
Into those from whom we are estranged, Come Lord.
Come down, come in, come among us and make us whole.
Into our struggles and our fears,
Into our joy and celebrations, Come Lord.
Come down, come in, come among us and make us whole.
Come down, come in, come among us and make us whole.
Amen.
merry christmas, my friends, enjoy a beautiful week. may God’s hope & peace be near.
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becoming better human beings
in the first few years of the refuge there were days when i really just wanted to throw in the towel. i often wonder why in the $*!^$&!(!)# i care so much about all of this. really. in the big scheme of things we are a little blip in the universe, just a teeny weeny pocket of love that is trying to scrape by and do the best we can. in the life of church-planting cycles, we are survivors. we have survived what many communities haven’t been able to weather. we have grown up over the past 5 years, not in numbers but in depth & width & in all kinds of ways that aren’t really measurable without kingdom-kinds-of-eyes. but we’re still young in all kinds of ways because that’s how faith & life is. if there was one thing i have learned in the past few years when i stopped always coming-to-the-edge-of-just throwing-in-the-towel, it’s that this kind of living requires a long, long view. it means weathering deep bumpy, rocky valleys in the road and having to climb big mountains without the best gear. it means letting go of needing everyone to understand and living in the tension of great disapproval. it means trusting that God is at work even though we may never see it. it means learning how to become less codependent and more free. it means having to chant the serenity prayer every day over and over and over again. it means holding on and hanging in and doing whatever we can do to remember that Jesus told us that this kind of life would be hard. but despite its hazards, it is beautiful.
at the same time, it poses another honest question–why work this hard? seriously. i know i have many friends who look in at what we’re doing and think it’s all a little nutty, how much we pour into this wild little community when we could take such an easier path. why have we chosen a road that’s so freaking messy?
trust me, i ask that question all the time. i imagine a nice office, an administrative assistant, making above the minimum wage, and being able to leave my work there instead of drag it home. but i then i just laugh because that is so not me. it never has been and it never will be. and this is somehow the little blip i’m dedicated to. that’s it. it’s not for everyone, that is for sure. but i am learning here what i don’t think i could learn if it were easier. i am not learning how to be a better speaker, a more efficient leader, a more effective manager, or a stronger fundraiser. those things are not inherently bad, but they are much easier than learning how to be a healthier human being.
i feel like that’s what i’m learning through being part of this community. how to be a healthier human being.
able to love and be loved. able to withstand adversity and still cling to Hope. able to hold on to what needs to be held on to and let of what’s not mine. able to laugh and cry at the same time. able to be mad at myself and kind to myself in the same breath. able to feel & hurt and able to receive healing & help. able to realize God is God and i’m human. able to have limits and also possibilities. able to fall down and slowly get back up. able to survive conflict and not have it kill me. able to be a friend & have friends. able to rely on others & also rely on God. able to trust. able to recognize limitations & able to still dream. able to give & able to receive. able to be vulnerable & allow myself to hurt.
i don’t think many churches teach this stuff. and i know why. it doesn’t sell. it’s not too inviting or comfortable.
but i think that’s what “church” should be about, really.
helping people become better human beings.
people of love, mercy, justice, hope, and healing. people who are willing to learn and fail and try again. people who focus on our own logs instead of others specks. people who lay down stones. people who are brave and scared at the same time. people who don’t give up but rely on God to sustain them through the twists and turns. people who are humble and willing to do the hard stuff and celebrate the good stuff. people willing to learn.
there are lots of different ways to learn it, it just so happens this is the particular Jesus school i happen to be enrolled in.
so that’s where i am at today. grateful for my humanity and God’s divinity. grateful for long-haul community. grateful for the 12 steps. grateful for the beatitudes. grateful for my dear & faithful friends who are helping me become a better human being.
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little pockets of freedom.
we’ve been talking a lot about wounds from the church at the refuge in preparation for our walking wounded gathering, which is this upcoming weekend in denver. i am really looking forward to it & oh do we have some fun stuff planned! we still have a little bit of room if you want to come & haven’t registered yet, do it today.
as we’ve been preparing for it, it is has been interesting how much has been stirred up for me about church.
as you all know, i love the church. it would have been so easy for me to throw in the towel a long time ago if i had only based things on my experience with “the system.” but the truth is that God’s people–together in some way, shape or form, living out the ways of Jesus in real & tangible ways–is sewn into my skin in ways that i don’t think i will ever be able to shake.
at the same time, as much as i love the church, i also hate what it has done–and continues to do–to so many people. i can’t stand the way it limits people. i can’t stand the way it serves itself. i can’t stand the way it excludes. i can’t stand the way it reflects the powers of the world instead of the beatitudes-infused-kingdom-of-God. i can’t stand the way it puts programs over people.
my dear friend barb murphy is the founder and director of cans for hope, a grassroots ministry dedicated to raising money to help women heal from sexual abuse & sex trafficking. i heard her speak this past weekend at a ministry event & she shared something very powerful. she said “the things we can’t stand, we are called to fix.”
the things we can’t stand, we are called to fix.
out of almost everything related to “church” the one thing i can’t stand the most is how it limits freedom. i always say that the church of Jesus Christ should be the free-est, least oppressed, most inclusive, most grace-filled place on earth. yet, as we all know, it has the reputation for being the opposite. instead of being a pocket of freedom, many churches are pockets of oppression. limiting half of the population from leading freely. keeping God safely tucked into a man-shaped box. keeping gifts squelched and in the hands of the clergy. spending resources on perpetuating a system that has nothing to do with community & changed lives & healing & transformation and everything to do with mortgages & strategic growth. constantly giving into the gravitational pull toward comfort and making sure the powerful-people-who-give stay happy. assuming people only love God “their” way instead of lots of other wild & beautiful & untraditional ways.
this past saturday evening we talked about gender inequality and the church, and i left so sad (not because of the conversation, my daughter being on the panel sharing freely about this issue will inspire me for a long time!). my sadness came when i intersected yet again with the reality that on the whole “the church” is a terrible reflection of freedom when it comes to this huge issue of gender injustice. the world, with all of its cultural bias against the dignity of women, is actually much further along when it comes to embracing and valuing women than the followers of Jesus Christ are.
in the same way i think churches should just be little pockets of love, i think that pockets of love aren’t really possible without first being a pocket of freedom.
where all people have dignity & incredible value.
where no one is oppressed or silenced or considered less-than because of their gender or race or economic status or educational status or theology or any other things that usually keep people over or under another.
where questions are valued & doubt is honored because we trust in a God who can handle it.
where God is not contained by the limits of man’s teaching.
where each person’s gifts, no matter how big or small, have a chance to be expressed.
where men & women are seen as equals and sit next to each other as brothers & sisters & friends.
so that’s why i’m still in “church.” because the thing i can’t stand, i’m called to fix.
i can’t fix the whole big system. i know i can’t.
but i can refuse to participate in systems that knowingly perpetuate oppression. that’s a small & important place to start. it’s lonely at first, when we make a stand toward freedom, but it’s so worth it later.
and most importantly i can play my small part in fixing the little systems i am part of.
i can help create little pockets of freedom. for me, these are my family, the refuge & the different groups i am part of & the relationships that i am in. none of these are perfect; they are each made up of imperfect human beings, young & old ones, and i know everyone in them doesn’t feel fully free or fully loved all of the time. i don’t, either. we live this side of heaven so i don’t expect that. but regardless of our shortcomings, it’s still possible to play our small part in participating in creating the kingdom of God now by making spaces for freedom. real Jesus-infused freedom.
Jesus “sets the oppressed free” (luke 4:18) & i’m pretty sure this isn’t what he had in mind:
i’m also reminded again of what toni morrison says: “the function of our freedom is to free someone else.”
i hope that we can all bravely step into our freedom & quit letting man-made systems limit us. then, i hope we can use this God-given freedom to free someone else.
and someone else. and someone else.
yeah, a lot of little pockets of freedom, over time, can actually create big ones.
God help us play our small part in creating little pockets of freedom, a reflection of your kingdom in the here & now.
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a few other things:
- thanks david hayward at nakedpastor.com for the awesome cartoon.
- i think this is an awesome addition to the list of questions from the downward mobility synchroblog post last week. thanks jeff! // read it here: being loved or being used.
- i’m doing a down we go workshop this afternoon at soularize. if you’re there, come say hi!
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we may look like losers re-dux
* this post is part of october’s synchroblog which is centered on downward mobility, one of my favorite topics! read what others are saying about upside-down-kingdom-living by clicking on the link list at the end of this post. i’ll update it as more posts come in.
* * * * *
my definition of downward mobility:
downward mobility is a matter of the heart, not financial resources. it is losing our lives instead of protecting them. giving away our hearts instead of insulating them. intersecting with pain instead of numbing it out. entering into relationship with people different from us instead of staying comfortably separated. learning instead of teaching. practicing instead of theorizing.
one thing i am struck with, more than ever, is just how counter-to-the-ways-of-the-world-and-so-often-the-church, too, a life of descent really is. it just isn’t all that popular. it doesn’t sell. it is hard. it is messy. it is costly. it’s a sure way to shrink a church. but in so many ways, as Jesus reminds us of in the beatitudes, we’re somehow blessed living down here. in all kinds of weird, wonderful, unexplainable ways, once we’ve tasted it, nothing else really satisfies.
some of what’s in this post is in the chapter in down we go called “we may look like losers.” it was based on this original blog post with the same title. this past week as i’ve been reflecting on how much i love my little beautiful refuge community & all i learn through it each and every day, i have been reminded just how easy it would be to miss what’s going on if you only looked on the outside. honestly, we look like losers. we really do.
but when it comes to relationships & community & learning-to-live-in-the-trenches-of-real-life-together, oh, there’s a lot of beauty & healing going on!
i sometimes tell friends that i wish i had “church amnesia” so that i could erase most of what i formerly learned about “success,” “ministry,” “leadership” and what makes things “viable.” in my old circles, valid ministry means constantly “growing,” “getting financially stable,” and “building up new, stronger leaders.” when i look at the refuge against this list, i tend to get a little embarrassed. i hear the words of successful Christian leadership books and see how we are
falling short.
slowly but surely i am learning that none of the old rules apply.
downward mobility is nurturing a way of living that is really only about one thing—relationships. and open-handedly & open-heartedly loving people in tangible ways. this requires an incredible amount of time, emotional and spiritual energy, and grace. it means i must completely throw out the old measures of success and look in one direction and one direction only—where God’s spirit is at work in the hearts and lives of the people right in front of me.
it is incredibly easy to miss.
i will never forget the words of someone who was visiting our community on our one-year anniversary dinner over four years ago. we were in sad moods; it was a weird weekend and not as many people came as we expected. we felt embarrassed and said to this guest, “yeah, we’re sorry, there are a lot of people missing tonight…we’re kind of bummed.” that woman replied strongly, “well i’m here.”
i will forever remember the power of those simple words. “i’m here.” it cut directly to the heart of the matter and was exactly what i needed to hear.
part of downward living is about seeing what’s right in front of us. looking at what we do have, not what we don’t. being thankful for the gift of today, instead of longing for tomorrow. noticing the beauty. appreciating what is.
even though we don’t have many of the resources i’d love to have, when i take a step back and look more carefully i see how many are actually right before me. they might not be big, shiny, clear, or exactly what i’m sure i really need. but they are here, right before me. small kernels of hope, reminders that God is taking good care of us, and showing us what it means to trust. i see tiny gifts of love, hope, peace and connection in places where there once was none, stalks of beauty seeping up from the ground, and small ways God says, “i’m here, too.”
i think instead of the old questions about numbers & programs & budgets & strategic plans, we can ask ourselves these kinds of questions instead:
• are people around us experiencing change, feeling more loved, and passing on more love to others?
• are they less isolated and more connected?
• are resources being shared between people in organic, natural ways?
• are people’s gifts and talents being drawn out of them and being used to grace and encourage others?
• are voices being used that were once silenced?
• are fear and shame lessening, losing their hold over people’s lives?
• are we seeing the image of God emerge from people in whom it once was buried?
incarnational relationships are nearly impossible to measure, but they seem to align with Jesus’ ways a lot more readily than what my friend and missional pastor, rose madrid-swetman calls the three b’s: budgets, butts, and buildings. these are standard measures of success in most ministries because they are tangible and easy to measure.
the refuge has no money, building, put-togetherness, pat answers, or rising stars. we’re just a hodge-podge of ordinary people trying to be open, caring, and dedicated to learning to be together and spread love, mercy, and justice in whatever small ways we can.
i know so many others in the same boat right now, too, in churches & ministries & neighborhoods & groups & unlikely places–people who are putting relationships above programs and finding how hard it really can be.
this is the force that can change the world, though, and is what i believe Jesus challenged us to become–a groundswell of people who look like losers to the powers that be, but are living out love in all kinds of wild & beautiful shapes and forms instead of just talking about it, and who are becoming the kingdom of God instead of just thinking about it.
yeah, downward living means embracing that we might look like losers.
Jesus looked like a loser, too.
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other bloggers exploring downward mobility this month:
- Jeremy Myers at Till He Comes – Seeking the Next Demotion
- Glenn Hager at Breathe – Pretty People
- David Derbyshire at Charismissional – Reaching the Inner City
- Liz Dyer at Grace Rules – A Beautiful Mess
- Tammy Carter at Blessing the Beloved – Flightplan
- Maria Kettleson Anderson at The Real Journey – Down
- Leah Sophia at Desert Spirit Fire – Down We Go
- Hugh Hollowell at Hugh’s Views – Downward
- Leah Randall at Journal From Jarapeth – “Jacked Up”
- Alan Knox – How Low Can You Go
- Anthony Ehrhardt – Slumming It For Jesus
- Sonja Andrews – Diversion and Distraction
- Leah Randall (her other voice) – How Low Can We Go
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