bonar crump

bonar crump
husband - father - reader - runner - picker - grinner - lover - sinner

Saturday, May 7, 2011

Cloistered Mom

by Bonar Crump

I could never forgive you for all the times you hit me.

I could never forgive you for all the times you chose drugs over me.

I could never forgive you for making Dad’s death all about you.

I could never forgive you for treating me like an adult instead of a child.

I could never forgive you for giving my things to dealers for drugs.

I could never forgive you for making every day seem so dangerous and scary.

I could never forgive you for teaching me how to lie.

I could never forgive you for abandoning me.

I could never forgive you for wanting to kill yourself.

I could never forgive you for screaming in my face.

I could never forgive you for the hateful whispers in my ear.

I could never forgive you for ignoring me.

…but I’m trying to forgive…

I’ve been working to forgive you for all the ways that you failed.

It’s become easier with age as I’ve watched myself fail again and again.

It’s become more necessary now that I have a child to teach and love.

It’s become one of the central goals in my life.

I love you, mom.

I will never stop forgiving you.

I will never stop loving you.

I know that if you had the chance to take it all back you would.

I cherish the love you have for my child.

The love you have for her has made all the difference.

Thank you, God, for teaching me how to forgive.

Thank you, God, for teaching me how to love.

Thank you, God, for using my mom to teach me these things and more.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. We’re in this together.

Crackheads, Simple Theology, and a Better Passion

by Jason Boyett
via Rachel Held Evans

"Last month, I met three little girls who have been permanently removed from any contact with their father. You name the abuse, they endured it. It’s awful. So I have a hard time with people getting worked up about Calvinists or Arminians or Rob Bell being a heretic or Benny Hinn’s hair. There’s a lot more horrible things going on in this world deserving of our anger or passion. Of course, I also have a hard time telling those girls that God, in his sovereignty, ordained for them to have a horrible dad. But I can share with them my simple theology: 
This world is broken, full of sin and sickness and pain and trouble and evil. That all that bad stuff keeps us from having a relationship with God, a relationship He desires. That God sent His perfect Son the the earth, to teach us and show us and example on earth of what God is like. And, most importantly, to take all of that sin and pain and brokenness in the world onto his body and die on the cross for us, because He loves us, unconditionally, so that we can have a relationship with Him. And that we become his adopted kids, so that even though dads on this earth let us down, He’s a Dad who never will. And that once He has us, once we accept what Jesus did, then He never lets us go. That’s really all the theology needed, I think. 
In terms of works, I think reaching out to the least -- the broken, the hurting, the hungry, the poor -- is birthed out of the simple theology that the world is broken, but Jesus has fixed it and is fixing it, and for some crazy reason, trusts us humans to help with the healing. 
So, for these girls, I put that into action by helping their grandmother, who is raising them now, with whatever support she needs (financial, emotional, etc.). By spending time with them and modeling who a man is supposed to be. By getting them in touch with caring women who can show them love. By telling and showing them who Jesus is. 
It’s more simple than we’ve made it out to be, I think."