Human Is A Verb Podcast

Dear Human is a Verb Community,I am reading The Cloud of Unknowing this week.(God) wants you to lock your eyes on him and leave him alone to work in you. Your part is to protect the door and windows, keeping out intruders and flies. And if you’re willing to do that, just ask him, praying humbly, and he will help you immediately. (Ch 2, Bucher Translation)I’ve been sitting with this invitation: lock your eyes on God and let the work of love be done in you. My part is the locking. God’s part is the loving. How much better would my world be if I simply held that division of labor? Guard the door and window of the heart. Stay present. And trust that the loving is already underway. It is easier said than done.And yet, there is an invitation to surrender here that something deep in me recognizes and wants.When I sat with that image long enough, I wanted to pray it with music. I worked with AI to develop “Let Love Lead Me,” trying to let the Cloud‘s invitation become something I could live into through music.This week, I am aware of how much we need, as persons and as a society, for love to lead us. I hope this song encourages you the way it has encouraged me.Peace,Julene Get full access to Human Is A Verb: Julene Tegerstrand, Ph.D. at humanisaverb.substack.com/subscribe

Dear Human Is A Verb Community-In this final episode of the seven-part “Praying with Scripture and Song” series, we pray with Psalm 118, a marching psalm. I imagine a village gathering in the streets to do what Barbara Holmes calls “singing themselves sane” and what Walter Brueggemann calls “risky speech.” We need more of both right now.Psalm 118 gives witness to people who knew what it meant to march together, to call for justice, and to remember who they are in the face of violence and injustice. These were not passive people. They were practitioners of communal lament, and they survived together under pressure for a very long time.I am tired of the abuse of power in government, in institutions, in churches. And I know I am not alone. Neither are you.Through Lectio Divina, breathwork, and the song “We Are Still Here,” this episode honors those of us who have been through something and are still going through something. What activists and agents of social change have long understood is that the inner life and the active life are deeply connected. You cannot have outer peace without inner peace. It is precisely when we are grounded inside that we find the capacity to raise our voices together and proclaim: we are still here.My prayer is that this episode helps your nervous system settle, and that you find yourself joining the long procession of those who have come before us, and those who will come after, in singing what has always been true: God’s love endures forever.A Prayer for a People Who ProtestLord, we come to you as a people, a village from separate rooms and separate roads and separate griefs. But together in this, we are joining a prayer that has been spoken across centuries by a people who knew what it was to be threatened and to have their lives on the line, and who stood on the edge of falling and found that you were there.So for the ones who feel hard pressed right now, whose bodies know the tight places before their minds have words for it, God, would you bring them into a spacious place? You’ve done it before, so would you do it again?For the ones in the streets, the ones placing their bodies in the path of what they believe, you have always been found in that kind of movement. God, would you be with them? Hold what is fragile in them, protect the hope that brought them there.And for the ones who have stopped trusting in princes, who have watched the structures they built their lives around fail to hold even when it seems to matter, God, remind them that refuge is still available, that it has always been available, that you have never moved.For those whose grief has set up its altars in their bodies, who are carrying things they cannot yet locate or name, let something in them know a little more clearly that the village is with them in it. That they are not alone in the dark.We are still here, still crying out, still hoping, still a village, even if we’re scattered, still singing ourselves towards something we cannot yet see. His love endures forever. His love endures forever. Amen.About This SeriesThis is the seventh and final episode of “Praying with Scripture and Song,” a mini-series exploring contemplative prayer through the ancient practice of Lectio Divina. Each episode invites listeners to slow down, listen deeply, and pray with Scripture alongside music created for the journey. This series is part of Human as a Verb, a podcast about practicing the sacred work of being human—an extension of Everyday Peacemaking, a ministry built around the belief that our inner life and our relational life are deeply connected.If you’ve missed a prayer practice in this series, you can access the first four here:Episode 1, Soften me, Oh God: Psalm 51Episode 2, Hiding Place: Psalm 32Episode 3, Still Walking: Psalm 121Episode 4, Drop Everything: Psalm 95Episode 5, You Might Be Real: Psalm 23Episode 6, Wait for Morning: Psalm 130Thank you for praying with us through all seven episodes. The village keeps gathering, and we hope you’ll stay with us as Human as a Verb continues.Connect* Website: everydaypeacemaking.org* Music: Link to “We Are Still Here” * Link to song on Spotify Get full access to Human Is A Verb: Julene Tegerstrand, Ph.D. at humanisaverb.substack.com/subscribe

Dear Human is a Verb Community-If you ever feel like you are sinking and crying out from a dark place, this episode is for you. Life is hard, right?! It has been hard for my family lately. People we love are not well. The loss of work and income seems to be the season we’re perpetually living in. We are looking for more stability! I know I’m not alone when I think—more change?!? And yet! God is here, even here. And we wait for that faithfulness to be uncovered. Psalm 130 has been a reminder of God’s faithfulness even in the midst of the hard. Peace,JuleneEpisode OverviewWelcome to the sixth episode of the seven-part mini-series Praying with Scripture and Song. In this contemplative episode, I guide listeners through Psalm 130 using the ancient practice of Lectio Divina—a meditative approach to scripture that creates space for honesty, quiet, and the soul to emerge from hiding.Episode PrayerLord, we come to you from the depths, from dark places. The hopes that we've stopped mentioning out loud 'cause it's exhausting to keep hoping. The futures we've carefully mapped and watched come apart, and the ground we built on turned out to be less solid than we thought. God, we are a people in the middle of something. Most of us don't have clean language for what it is. We just know that we're tired in a way that sleep doesn't fix, that we're afraid of things. We can't even quite name that we’ve lost some things we didn’t expect to lose, and we’re still learning what it means to live without them. God, your ears are attentive to our cry. You're already leaning in. For everyone doing the long, unglamorous work of waiting in the dark, be what the Psalm promises: the love that has not moved, the mourning that is already on its way. God, we are still crying. Still hoping, still here, and you have been waiting for us longer than we know. Amen.What You’ll Experience* Guided Breathing Exercise: Five slow breaths to settle your nervous system and create space for listening* Lectio Divina Practice: Four movements through Psalm 130—descent, meditation, prayer, and contemplative rest* Suno Song: “Wait for Morning,” developed by Julene* Closing Prayer: A prayer for those feel like they are sinking doing the “long unglamorous work of waiting in the dark.”Resources* Song “Wait for Morning” available by clicking on the link or on Spotify here.* Music created using Suno* Learn more about Soul Companioning/Spiritual Direction at everydaypeacemaking.org/spiritual directionNext EpisodeEpisode 7 (series finale): Praying with Psalm 118About the HostJulene Tegerstrand is a spiritual director and co-founder of Everyday Peacemaking, a ministry exploring the connection between our inner life and relational life.Support the PodcastMonthly subscription: a few dollars | Yearly: $70Or share this episode with someone who needs itThe Whole SeriesIf you’ve missed a prayer practice in this series, you can access the first four here:Episode 1, February 11- Soften me, Oh God: Psalm 51Episode 2, February 18 - Hiding Place: Psalm 32Episode 3, February 25 - Still Walking: Psalm 121Episode 4, March 3 - Drop Everything: Psalm 95Episode 5, March 11 - You Might Be Real: Psalm 23Episode 7: March 25 - God Still Lives; Psalm 118“May you live and breathe and pray in such a way that you grow into your true humanity.” Get full access to Human Is A Verb: Julene Tegerstrand, Ph.D. at humanisaverb.substack.com/subscribe

Dear Human is a Verb Community - Psalm 23 is probably the most familiar psalm in the world. Most of us have heard it at funerals and memorized it as children. I’ve been sitting with this psalm for the past several weeks, and I’m reminded that the psalm isn’t about a life without darkness. The shepherd leads the psalmist through the darkest valley, not around it. The table is set in the presence of enemies, not after they’re gone. The rest I so need is not out there somewhere past the hard thing. The rest is with the Shepherd, inside the hard thing.I don’t know about you, but I need to be reminded of this almost daily. About this episodeThis episode, the 5th in a seven-episode mini-series, uses Lectio Divina to slowly move through Psalm 23, using a food metaphor. We take a bite of the text, chew it, savor it, and rest while it digests.You’ll also hear a song I developed based on the psalm called You Might Be Real. You can listen to it directly here: You Might Be Real; Psalm 23. It lives in the gap between “besides still waters” and the actual life most of us are living, where sickness happens, losses arrive without warning, and the valley is real.Yet, I follow, though I don't feelI hope You might be realEven when I cannot seePlease lead me....If You're near, then show me howTo trust You in the right here nowI don't ask for skies to partJust be the hand that holds my heartA prayer for hard placesWhether you listen to the full episode or not, I want to offer you this prayer. It’s what came out of me at the end of the recording, and it’s for anyone in a valley right now or anyone loving someone who is.Shepherd God, you who hold the depths and shape the sea and still stoop to call us by name, we come to you from some very hard places today.For the ones who are sitting in a hospital room right now, or who are doing the slow, exhausting, sacred work of caring for someone they love who is not going to be the same. God, we need the valley to mean something. We need you to be in it, not just waiting on the other side.For those who find “I shall not want” almost unbearable to say right now, because they want their life back and don’t want to be this tired, don’t ask them to stop wanting. Just come near.For the ones who are angry, who have lived through enough already and are not sure they have language for what they’re feeling, you are large enough to hold that. You have held that before. The psalms are full of it.Prepare a table, even here, even now, even in this presence, even in this grief. Lead the ones who are too worn down to choose a direction. Feed the ones who have been doing all the feeding.And for those sitting in a silence that is not peaceful but just empty, stay in it with them. Be the thing that does not leave.Amen.The full episode, including the breathing practice, the Lectio Divina, and the song, is above. If you’re in a season where you need someone to slow you down and help you pray, I hope you’ll press play.And if this landed somewhere real for you, would you share it with someone who might need it? That’s genuinely one of the best ways to help this work reach more people.Access the song from this episode:You Might Be Real, on SunoYou Might Be Real, On SpotifyThe Whole SeriesIf you’ve missed a prayer practice in this series, you can access the first four here:Here is the full schedule of practices/episodes:Episode 1, Soften me, Oh God: Psalm 51Episode 2, Hiding Place: Psalm 32Episode 3, Still Walking: Psalm 121Episode 4, Drop Everything: Psalm 95Episode 5,You Might Be Real: Psalm 23Episode 6, Wait for Morning: Psalm 130Episode 7: We Are Still Here; Psalm 118May you live and breathe and pray in such a way that you grow into your true humanity.Peace, Julene Get full access to Human Is A Verb: Julene Tegerstrand, Ph.D. at humanisaverb.substack.com/subscribe

Dear Human is a Verb Community,This is the fourth installment of our Praying with Scripture and Song mini-series. Each episode take the Psalm and facilitates Lectio Divina and Prayer. When I was working on this someone I love had a major health crisis and I was dealing with other hard life challenges that couldn’t be easily ‘figured out.’ I spent days doing what I imagine you do in your own hard seasons: look around at all of it, the fragility, the massive loss, the uncertainty, the things I take completely for granted, and say something that is part prayer and part yell. Something like, What the %$#, God?Sometimes I don’t know what else to do with what life throws at me. Have you ever screamed (even if only in your mind) something like that? Good thing God can take it. I set out to develop this mini-series of spiritual practices for anyone else who would listen, and it is clear—these are for me. You get to listen in on what Julene needs right now—and this week, I need Psalm 95.Forty years of people who had watched God work, who had seen the manna and the water from the rock and the cloud and the fire, and still couldn’t quite trust what they were seeing. The wilderness was real and long and confusing. Fear kept winning. I recognize that. Drop everything and listen.That’s what this episode asks of us. Listening is hard when life is breaking open. The hard things don’t resolve just because we get quiet. And yet the Shepherd is still speaking, and somewhere in this psalm is the word that rest, real rest, is still available.The song for this episode is called Drop Everything. You can listen to it directly here: Drop Everything; Psalm 95.Peace, JuleneHere is the full schedule of practices/episodes:Episode 1, Soften me, Oh God: Psalm 51Episode 2, Hiding Place: Psalm 32Episode 3, Still Walking: Psalm 121Episode 4, Drop Everything: Psalm 95Episode 5,You Might Be Real: Psalm 23Episode 6, Wait for Morning: Psalm 130Episode 7: We Are Still Here; Psalm 118WelcomeWelcome to Human is a Verb, a podcast about practicing the sacred work of being human. My name is Julene Tegerstrand. I’m a spiritual director and co-founder of Everyday Peacemaking, a ministry my husband Steve and I are building around the belief that our inner life and our relational life are deeply connected. This podcast is an extension of Everyday Peacemaking.This is the fourth episode of a seven-part mini-series called Praying with Scripture and Song.What we do here is simple. We’re going to pray with scripture. We’ll practice some stillness. We’ll grow in our inner capacity for peace so that we can carry it somewhere into our real lives.Today we’re praying with Psalm 95, verses six through eleven, using The Message. We’re using an ancient practice of the church called Lectio Divina, which helps us move from the surface of a text down into the depths.ArrivingBefore we enter the text, let’s take a moment to arrive.Feel whatever is holding you right now. The chair beneath you, the ground under your feet. Let your hands rest somewhere comfortable.We’re going to take five slow breaths together. The exhale will be a little longer than the inhale, and that’s intentional. A longer exhale sends a small physical signal to your nervous system, like: we’re okay right now. We can listen.Breathe in: 1, 2, 3, 4. Breathe out: 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.Repeat five times, then let your breath return to its natural rhythm.Notice the space around you. Notice what you see. Feel your hands, feel your feet, and then just return to wherever it is that you are sitting or standing.About This PracticeThe ancient church believed that scripture was a living thing, a mystery with multiple layers waiting to open us, and that the way we enter those layers is through receptivity.For this Lectio Divina practice, we will move through four of these layers:• The literal sense: what is actually happening in the text• The Christological sense: how this text opens into the larger story of God and Christ• The moral sense: what this text asks of us right now, in our real lives• The mystical sense: a place of stillness where we simply restRound One: The Literal SenseIn this first round, we’re listening for what the text is actually doing.As I read, notice the movement. The psalm opens in warmth, communal and expansive, full of we and our. Come, let us worship. We are his people. He is our God. And then a voice breaks in and says: Drop everything and listen. That’s an interruption born of God’s love for us. It’s like someone who sees us about to step into traffic and reaches out a hand.Notice that movement as I read aloud.So come, let us worship. Bow before him, on your knees before God, who made us. Oh yes, he’s our God, and we’re the people of his pastures, the flock he feeds.Drop everything and listen. Listen as he speaks. Don’t turn a deaf ear, as in the bitter uprising, as on the day of the wilderness test, when your ancestors turned and put me to the test. For forty years they watched me at work among them. As over and over they tried my patience and I was provoked. Oh, I was provoked.Can’t they keep their minds on God for five minutes? Do they simply refuse to walk down my road? Exasperated, I exploded: They’ll never get where they’re headed, never be able to sit down and rest.Hold what you just heard. Drop everything and listen.(Pause for reflection.)Round Two: The Christological SenseIn this second round, we listen for how this text opens into the wider story of God in Christ.As I read again, let one phrase become an anchor for you. Maybe it’s the flock he feeds. Maybe something else will catch your attention more. Hold whatever it is you choose.The early Christians who prayed this psalm heard the flock he feeds and thought of Jesus saying: I am the good shepherd. My sheep hear my voice. The God whose voice breaks into the psalm is the same God who became flesh and walked among us. Let that open something as I read again.So come, let us worship. Bow down before him, on your knees before God who made us. Oh yes, he’s our God, and we’re the people of his pastures, the flock he feeds.Drop everything and listen. Listen as he speaks. Don’t turn a deaf ear, as in the bitter uprising, as on the day of the wilderness test, when your ancestors turned and put me to the test. For forty years they watched me at work among them. As over and over they tried my patience and I was provoked. Oh, I was provoked.Can’t they keep their minds on God for five minutes? Do they simply refuse to walk down my road? Exasperated, I exploded: They’ll never get where they’re headed, never be able to sit down and rest.Notice what word or phrase is staying with you, whatever genuinely caught your ear. Hold that.(Pause for reflection.)Round Three: The Moral SenseThis is the round where we bring our actual life into the light of what we’ve been hearing.The text says: Drop everything and listen. And it carries that old story of people who couldn’t quite do it. They had seen God work for forty years. The manna, the water from the rock, the cloud and the fire. They just kept trusting their fear more than the voice that was trying to lead them. They kept managing things themselves rather than following.This is a deeply human story. And it deserves to be held with compassion for ourselves and an openness to what God might have for us.I’ll ask a few questions and then pause for you to prayerfully consider them.Where do you notice yourself struggling to listen right now?(Pause.)In the line, “Can’t they keep their minds on God for five minutes?” invite that to land in you. Take an honest look at where your attention keeps going. If it is pulled away, what pulls it away? What has you bracing, or spinning, or restless?(Pause.)If anything comes to the surface, take this opportunity to listen to God in prayer. Now bring one specific situation to prayer. Maybe it’s a relationship, a decision, a fear, or just a concern you’ve been carrying.Round 4: The Mystical SenseThe last line of this passage speaks of people who were never able to sit down and rest. They kept moving past it. The rest was there, and they couldn’t receive it. So now we practice receiving. Wherever you are, whether you’re walking, driving, or sitting down, I invite you to allow something in you to stop and to rest.Let yourself feel held.(Extended pause.)The Song: Drop EverythingThe song you’re about to hear was written from inside the psalm and created using an AI musical tool called Suno. When I developed the lyrics for these songs, I’m really trying to hold two things at once: the world the psalm came from, and the world I’m actually living in. The distance between those two is usually smaller than I expect.Psalm 95 was the Invitatory, the very first prayer monks sang every morning before anything else. Come, let us worship. Drop everything and listen. Today, if you hear his voice. Every morning, the same invitation, the same word: today.What I kept sitting with as I worked on these lyrics was the wilderness story at the center of the psalm. Those forty years weren’t years of abandonment, even though I imagine they felt like it. God was present every single day. The people just kept being unable to trust what they were seeing. They chose their fear over the voice that was trying to lead them somewhere restful and good.The rest was always available. They kept walking past it.I wanted the song to carry God speaking, the voice of the Shepherd saying: even now, even today, I will lead you. I will feed you. I am listening to you too.(Song: “Drop Everything”)Closing PrayerGod, who pastures and feeds us, God who speaks into the middle of our singing and says, listen, we come to you as the flock we actually are. Sometimes scattered. A lot of times distracted. Trusting our own management of our lives a little more than we’d like to admit.For everyone listening who feels like they’ve been in the wilderness a long time: please come near. Remind us that your rest is here, with you, and that it always has been.For the ones whose attention keeps splintering, who can’t seem to hold still for five minutes: let this be enough.For the ones who have been managing and steering and holding everything together: grant the particular mercy of being led, for a moment, of being the flock and trusting the shepherd.And for all of us today, in whatever situation we find ourselves, we ask that you go before us. Please keep speaking. We want to be people who hear your voice and follow.Amen.OutroThank you for praying with us today. The music in this episode was created using Suno. You can find a link to the song “Drop Everything” on my Substack at humanisaverb.substack.com, and it will also be in the show notes.Human is a Verb exists because I believe the inner life is our foundation. The practices we do here, the stillness, the listening, the honest prayer, they’re all how we grow the capacity for peace that eventually shapes how we live with the people around us. That’s the whole project.If that resonates with you, there are two ways to go deeper. The first is soul companioning, or one-on-one spiritual direction with me. If you’re in a season of transition, I’d love to accompany you. You can find more information at www.everydaypeacemaking.org.The second is becoming a paid subscriber to Human is a Verb. A monthly subscription is just a few dollars, and a yearly subscription is $70. Your support is what makes this work sustainable. And if paying isn’t in the cards for you right now, that is completely okay. Sharing this episode with someone who might need it is a genuine gift to them and to this work. The larger this community grows, the more this can offer.In the next episode, we’ll be praying with Psalm 23, and I’ll share a song called “You Might Be Real.” I hope you’ll come back and pray with us.May you live and breathe and pray in such a way that you grow into your true humanity. Get full access to Human Is A Verb: Julene Tegerstrand, Ph.D. at humanisaverb.substack.com/subscribe

Dear Human is a Verb Community—My favorite lines from this week’s song, Still Walking, inspired by Psalm 121 is: Not safe from hurt, not spared from loss. But held through what we face. If evil comes, it won’t have us. You keep us in Your grace.Despite what happens, whether you can walk, crawl, or neither, God is keeping us in his beloved embrace. I know I needed to hear that this week!I hope this episode helps you continue to receive God’s embrace no matter how it finds you! Episode 1, Soften me, Oh God: Psalm 51Episode 2, Hiding Place: Psalm 32Episode 3, Still Walking: Psalm 121Episode 4, Drop Everything: Psalm 95Episode 5,You Might Be Real: Psalm 23Episode 6, Wait for Morning: Psalm 130Episode 7: We Are Still Here; Psalm 118Peace,Julene WelcomeWelcome to Human Is a Verb, a podcast about practicing the sacred work of being human. I’m your host, Julene Tegerstrand. I’m a spiritual director and the co-founder of Everyday Peacemaking.This is the third episode in a seven-part mini-series called Praying with Scripture & Song.Today we are praying with Psalm 121, and listening with a practice of Lectio Divina.A word about Lectio DivinaMany of us read Scripture the way we read everything else. We read for information. We read to analyze. We read to extract something useful.Lectio Divina invites a different stance. We read for formation. We do not master the text. We let the text read us.A twelfth-century Cistercian, William of St. Thierry, suggested that to truly understand a text, we approach the author with the openness of friendship. No friendship is possible without listening. And listening means we let the other be distinct from our projections and expectations.In Lectio Divina, we move from reading with our eyes to listening with what the tradition calls the “ear of the heart.” We stop trying to force the text to say what we want it to say. Instead, we approach the Word like a person: receptive, willing to be changed, open to the possibility that the Spirit of God has a word for us today.Settle in: Five breathsTo begin, we’ll do a short breath practice. Five breaths, just enough to help your nervous system settle so you can listen.Notice what is holding you.Feel the support beneath you.Notice your feet where they are resting.Let your eyes be soft. Relax your temples.Now we’ll breathe five breaths. I’ll count to four on the inhale and six on the exhale. That longer exhale is a small signal to your nervous system that we are okay now. We can rest.Let’s begin.Inhale… two, three, four.Exhale… two, three, four, five, six.Inhale… two, three, four.Exhale… two, three, four, five, six.Inhale… two, three, four.Exhale… two, three, four, five, six.Inhale… two, three, four.Exhale… two, three, four, five, six.Inhale… two, three, four.Exhale… two, three, four, five, six.Now let your breathing return to its natural rhythm.Psalm 121 as a song for “on the way”Psalm 121 is a psalm that was sung on the way. Think of pilgrimage. Think of the people of God traveling to Jerusalem.First reading: Listen for the shimmering wordI’m going to read Psalm 121 slowly.Your job is simple. Listen for a word or phrase that shimmers. Something that catches your attention, even just a little. You do not have to figure out why. Just notice it. Name it quietly in your mind.After I read the psalm, I’ll pause.Psalm 121I lift up my eyes to the hills.From where will my help come?My help comes from the Lord,who made heaven and earth.He will not let your foot be moved.He who keeps you will not slumber.He who keeps Israelwill neither slumber nor sleep.The Lord is your keeper.The Lord is your shade at your right hand.The sun shall not strike you by day,nor the moon by night.The Lord will keep you from all evil.He will keep your life.The Lord will keep your going out and your coming infrom this time on and forevermore.Second reading: Let the word meet your real lifeI’ll read the psalm again.This time, let your word or phrase interact with what is happening in your real life. Your responsibilities. Your stress. The thing you are carrying.We are not trying to solve anything. We are simply placing our lives before God, where God might be meeting us.Psalm 121 (again)Respond in prayer: Name one burdenTake your word or phrase, and let it guide you into prayer.You might pray something like:“Lord, I’m tired of being the one who never sleeps.”Or, “Be my shade in this heated conflict.”If it helps, name one specific burden you want to bring before God right now.Rest in God’s presenceNow the invitation is to rest. In this part of Lectio Divina, we do not need many words. We give ourselves permission to be. So much of life is doing. Even ministry can become constant doing. This is your invitation to be.Let your body rest in the presence of the One who keeps you. Let go of your need to fix anything in this moment. If your mind wanders, that’s okay. Just return to your word or phrase like a handrail. Return, and rest.Song- Still WalkingNext is a song created based on Psalm 121.As you listen, notice if there is a line that resonates with you. If so, let it accompany you for the rest of the day.Closing prayerGod who does not sleep, God who stays, thank you for meeting us on the road, in the part of life that feels unfinished, and in the stretch where trust has to become daily bread.For the ones listening who feel brave, keep them humble and steady.For the ones who feel tired, give the mercy of one more step.For the ones who feel afraid, be their shade, their keeper, and their hiding place.When our footing feels unsure, hold us.When the night feels long, stay awake with us.When evil brushes near, keep us in your grace.Bless our going out and our coming in.Bless our work and our rest.Bless our speaking and our silence.And as we return to the rest of this day, send us with this simple truth in our bones:We are still walking, and you are still here.Amen.Thanks, credits, and how to supportThank you for listening to Human Is a Verb and for taking the time to pray.Most of the music you heard today was created using Suno. You can find a link to the song “Still Walking” on my Substack at humanisaverb.substack.com, and it will also be in the show notes.And before you go, a quick note about how this project stays alive. If Human Is a Verb has been a small refuge in your week, I’d love to invite you to become a paid subscriber. A monthly subscription is about the cost of a couple of coffees. A yearly subscription is $70. Your support genuinely encourages me and helps me keep creating prayer practices like this.In the next episode of Praying with Scripture & Song, we’ll be praying with Psalm 95, with an accompanying song. I hope you’ll come and pray with us.May you continue to live and pray and breathe in such a way that you grow into your true humanity. I look forward to praying with you again.Link to the song on Suno, Still Walking.Link to the song on Spotify, Still Walking. Get full access to Human Is A Verb: Julene Tegerstrand, Ph.D. at humanisaverb.substack.com/subscribe

Dear Human Is a Verb Community,If you’re the kind of tired that makes even good things feel like too much (that IS tired!), this prayer practice is for you.This second episode of the Praying with Scrpture and Song mini-series invites you to pray with Psalm 32. Each episode is designed to join you on the way, while you’re driving, walking, folding laundry, or taking a quiet moment between everything else.It’s a 20-minute refuge, a hiding place, so that your nervous system can breathe and you can return to your more human self. A practice like this is rarely just for one person. So how about sharing it? If someone you love is carrying too much right now, someone anxious, grieving, overwhelmed, or spiritually hungry, sharing this is a way to say, “You don’t have to do this alone. Here’s a place to rest.” Here is the full schedule of practices/episodes:Episode 1, Soften me, Oh God: Psalm 51Episode 2, Hiding Place: Psalm 32Episode 3, Still Walking: Psalm 121Episode 4, Drop Everything: Psalm 95Episode 5,You Might Be Real: Psalm 23Episode 6, Wait for Morning: Psalm 130Episode 7: We Are Still Here; Psalm 118JuleneWelcome to Human Is a Verb—a podcast about practicing the sacred work of being human. I’m your host, Julene Tegerstrand.This is the second episode in a seven-part prayer practice miniseries called Praying with Scripture and Song.In each of these seven episodes, we’ll use a practice called Lectio Divina—Divine Reading.In the 12th century, a monk named Guigo II described Lectio Divina as a ladder. He imagined each movement of the practice lifting the heart toward God. We begin by slowly reading a passage of scripture and staying with a word that draws us. Then we allow that word to meet us right where we are in our present-day life. Then we speak to God from that place. And finally, we rest—we rest in the presence of God.In this practice, the text becomes a voice that addresses us—or rather, an opportunity for God to address us through scripture and through our own listening.So we come to the text with openness. We come attentive. And we allow ourselves not just to read—but also to be read.Today we’ll move through this prayer together in a few simple steps: a brief moment of music, a short breathing practice, time of listening to scripture using Lectio Divina, and then an invitation to continue praying through a song. Let’s begin.We’ll begin with a short piece of music. Just let it help you slow down and settle into this moment.Arriving in the Body (Breath Prayer)Let’s give our bodies a moment to arrive. If you’re driving or walking, keep your eyes open and your attention where it needs to be. Nothing here requires you to change your pace.Notice that you’re already breathing—air coming in, air going out.Now let’s add a gentle rhythm to your breathing: inhale for four and exhale for six.Inhale through your nose: 1… 2… 3… 4…Exhale slowly: 1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6…Again: inhale… 1… 2… 3… 4…Exhale… 1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6…Inhale… 1… 2… 3… 4…Exhale… 1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6…Now let your breath return to its natural rhythm.As you keep breathing, notice one place where your body meets the world around you—your feet on the ground, your hands where they rest. The sense that you’re being held by something beyond yourself.Lectio Divina (Psalm 32:5–11, NLT)In a moment you’ll hear Psalm 32, verses 5 to 11. I’ll be reading from the New Living Translation.I’ll read the passage once. Listen for a word or phrase that catches your attention—something that, for you today, feels alive.Scripture (Read 1):Finally, I confessed all my sins to youand stopped trying to hide my guilt.I said to myself, “I will confess my rebellion to the Lord,”and you forgave me!All my guilt is gone.Therefore, let all the godly pray to youwhile there is still time,that they may not drown in the floodwaters of judgment.For you are my hiding place;you protect me from trouble.You surround me with songs of victory.The Lord says, “I will guide you along the best pathway for your life.I will advise you and watch over you.Do not be like a senseless horse or mulethat needs a bit and bridle to keep it under control.”Many sorrows come to the wicked,but unfailing love surrounds those who trust the Lord.So rejoice in the Lord and be glad, all you who obey him!Shout for joy, all you whose hearts are pure!Spend a few moments considering what word—or perhaps a phrase—might be inviting your attention today.Meditatio (Read 2: Listening for the Word)Julene: This time, listen again for a word or phrase that’s inviting your attention today. Consider what that word or phrase might mean for you today. Once I read the passage, I’ll pause to give you a chance to pray with the word or phrase that’s inviting your attention.Psalm 32 (Read 2):(Repeat of Psalm 32:5–11, NLT)Oratio (Turning Reflection into Prayer)Let your reflection become prayer. Speak to God quietly in your own words.Contemplatio (Resting)Julene: In this fourth round, I invite you to let go of the words and simply rest in God’s presence.As we continue to pray, we’re going to do so with a song inspired by Psalm 32. As you listen, notice what moves in you. You might notice where something feels heavy, or where something feels lighter.Let this song meet you wherever you are today.Song: “Hiding Place” (On Suno) Song on Spotify, “Hiding Place”Closing PrayerGod of mercy, in a full and hurried world that pulls our attention toward what drains us and away from the connections we long for—gather us again into your steady love. Lift the burdens we’ve been carrying. Guide us with your gentle voice, and surround us with the freedom and joy that come with being known and being held by you.Amen.OutroJulene: Thank you for listening and taking the time to pray. Most of the music you heard today on this podcast was created using Suno.You can find a link to the song “Hiding Place” on my Substack at humanisaverb.substack.com, and it’s also going to be in the show notes for this episode.In the third episode of Praying with Scripture and Song, we’ll be praying with Psalm 121. The accompanying song will be “Still Walking,” which says: “My hope is not in what I see, not in the things that promise peace. My hope comes from the One who stays, who made the stars and shapes my days.”So I hope you’ll come back and pray with us in the next episode.May you continue to live and pray and breathe in such a way that you grow into your true humanity.I look forward to praying with you again. Go in peace. Get full access to Human Is A Verb: Julene Tegerstrand, Ph.D. at humanisaverb.substack.com/subscribe

Dear Human is a Verb Community,I’m working on a “Praying with Scripture and Songs” podcast miniseries, and I’m excited to share this first of seven episodes with you. I hope these are a gift to you and your nervous system as they will invite you to breath, slow down, and pray. Even as I was making this, I thought—I need this, to slow down, to breath and to allow scripture to awaken prayer in me.Peace,JuleneWelcome to Human Is a Verb, a podcast about practicing the sacred work of being human. I’m your host, Julene Tegerstrand. I’m a spiritual director and the co-founder of Everyday Peacemaking.This episode is the first in a seven-part series called Praying with Scripture and Song.Today, we’ll move through this prayer together in a few simple steps: a brief moment of music, a short breathing practice, a time of listening to scripture using Lectio Divina, and then an invitation to continue praying through a song.Let’s begin.Opening MusicWe’ll begin with a short piece of music. Just let it help you slow down and settle into this moment.A Breathing PracticeLet’s give our bodies a moment to arrive.If you’re driving or walking, keep your eyes open and your attention where it needs to be. Nothing here requires you to change your pace.Notice that you’re already breathing. Air coming in. Air going out.Now let’s add a gentle rhythm to your breathing.Inhale through your nose for four. One… two… three… four.Exhale slowly for six. One… two… three… four… five… six.Again.Inhale. One… two… three… four.Exhale. One… two… three… four… five… six.One more time.Inhale. One… two… three… four.Exhale. One… two… three… four… five… six.Now let your breath return to its natural rhythm.As you keep breathing, notice one place where your body meets the world around you—your feet on the ground, your hands where they rest, the sense that you are being held by something beyond yourself.Introduction to Lectio DivinaIn a moment, you’ll hear a passage from Psalm 51.The point is not to understand every word, but to listen for a word or phrase that feels alive for you today, or that gently invites your attention.This way of praying is called Lectio Divina. It means “holy listening.”Lectio Divina is more than studying the Bible or figuring out what the text means in general. It’s about listening for what God might be saying to us right now.We’ll listen slowly, more than once. Each time, you may notice something different. There’s no right or wrong way to do this.The invitation is simply to allow your soul to be listened to by yourself and by God.First Reading (Lectio)Listen now for a word or phrase that gently catches your attention.Psalm 51Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love. You desire truth in the inward being; therefore, teach me wisdom in my secret heart. Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me. Do not cast me away from your presence, and do not take your holy spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and sustain in me a willing spirit.Second Reading (Meditatio)We’ll read the text again.This time, hold onto the word or phrase that stood out to you. Let it connect with your life today.Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love. You desire truth in the inward being; therefore, teach me wisdom in my secret heart. Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me. Do not cast me away from your presence, and do not take your holy spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and sustain in me a willing spirit.Response (Oratio)Now, quietly respond to God in your own words.You might turn your word or phrase into a simple prayer. It could be a sentence, or even just a few words.Rest (Contemplatio)I now invite you to let go of the words. Let go of your prayer.Simply rest in God’s presence.If your mind wanders, gently return to your word or phrase, like an anchor.Song as PrayerNow, continue this prayer through a song based on Psalm 51.This song is meant to be received as a prayer.As you listen, notice where your body softens or tightens. Pay attention to any line that feels tender, difficult, or relieving.If a phrase stays with you, you don’t need to explain it. Just let it stay with you.Psalm 51: Soften Me, SongClosing PrayerLet us close with a short prayer.Merciful God, you work gently and patiently in our hearts. You soften what has grown hard and hold what we cannot yet release.As we return to our day, help us carry your kindness with us and offer that same kindness to others.Create in us clean hearts, O God. Soften our hearts, that we may be open to you.Place within us a willing spirit.Amen.OutroThank you for listening and for taking the time to pray.Most of the music you heard in this episode was created using Suno.You can find a link to the song Soften Me on my Substack at humanisaverb.substack.com,and in the show notes for this episode.One of the ways I notice myself softening to God, and to what the deepest part of me longs for, is through spiritual direction—a space where I’m listened into speech and can name what is stirring in my heart.If you’re longing for accompaniment along the way, I’d be glad to talk with you. You can sign up for a free inquiry callusing the link in the show notes.In the second episode of Praying with Scripture and Song, we’ll be praying with Psalm 32.May you continue to live and breathe in such a way that you grow into your true humanity.I look forward to praying with you again. Go in peace.Links: Soften Me SongSchedule a Spiritual Direction inquiry call Get full access to Human Is A Verb: Julene Tegerstrand, Ph.D. at humanisaverb.substack.com/subscribe

In this episode, I got to sit with pastor and theologian John Nielson to reflect on Advent as a season where joy and sorrow co-mingle. If you or anyone you know is experiencing grief in this season, this episode is for you (and them!).If you’ve missed the other episodes, here they are:Episode 1: Waiting Without Turning Away, David YoungEpisode 2: I Got You: Preparing for Peace in the Wilderness, Mat ThomasEpisode 3: You See Me: Digging Out For Joy, Julene TegerstrandIf these podcasts have meant something to you, would you share the series with someone you love? This series has been a labor of love, and it would mean a lot to me if the people you care about were also inspired by this work.Peace,Julene TegerstrandShow Notes:Drawing on the Gospel of Matthew, the faithfulness of Joseph, and the wisdom of Julian of Norwich, this story-cast (a storied, podcast) explores what it means to lean in when life is disrupted. John shares his personal experience of loss and vocational upheaval following the closure of Eastern Nazarene College, and how God’s presence met him not through familiar practices, but through unexpected forms of support, community, and grace.Together, Julene and John reflect on Advent as a season that holds joy and sorrow together — a season where cheerfulness can be the expectation, but presence is the deep need. From Julian’s vision of the hazelnut held in God’s hand to the promise of Emmanuel, God with us, this episode offers space to rest, breathe, and remember that nothing we carry is carried alone.Themes explored in this episode:* Advent as a season for grief, love, and deep trust* Joseph’s obedience when his plans radically change* Julian of Norwich and the promise that “All shall be well”* God’s nearness in seasons of loss and vocational disruption* Practices of remembrance and restFeatured Scriptures & Voices* Matthew 1:18–25* Isaiah 7* Julian of Norwich, Revelations of Divine LovePractice mentioned in the episode Here is a link to the Advent practice inspired by Julian of Norwich, inviting you to hold a small object as a reminder that you are held by God. The practice was created for the Advent resource sponsored by the New England Church of the Nazarene.About the Story-cast producer, host (That’s me!): I’m a spiritual director and co-founder of Everyday Peacemaking, where I help people tend their inner lives and build practices of presence, compassion, and peace. I’m a curator of contemplative experience, pilgrimage, and community dialogue. I am currently taking new clients and can be contacted at [email protected] the Guest:John is the Pastor at Manchester Church of the Nazarene in Manchester, Connecticut. He was an Associate Professor in the Religion and Culture program at Eastern Nazarene College for seven years. He is an ordained elder in the Church of the Nazarene, a husband to Amy Nielson, and a father to three beautiful daughters. Get full access to Human Is A Verb: Julene Tegerstrand, Ph.D. at humanisaverb.substack.com/subscribe

Dear Human is A Verb Community-I poured my heart into this episode. It includes a recording I made in the weeks after ENC closed. It is raw and shows what it can look like to experience anxiety and trust, sadness and joy all in the same moment. Advent is pregnant with all the emotions — all at the same time. I hope you enjoy. If you’ve missed the other episodes, here they are:Episode 1: Waiting Without Turning Away, David YoungEpisode 2: I Got You - Preparing for Peace in the Wilderness, Mat ThomasEpisode 4: Lean In - God with us in the Dark, John NiesonPeace,Julene TegerstrandEpisode Transcript:The day before, we had seen a lion cross a path so close that we could have reached out and touched him. He walked up onto a massive rock where a whole pride—lions, lionesses, and cubs—were stretched out in the sun. It was incredible.We were getting ready for a second full day like that. It felt like a piece of heaven.And at the very same time, I was finding out that my life was being rearranged.IntroductionThat was me, Julene Tegerstrand. I’m a spiritual director and the co-founder of Everyday Peacemaking.Welcome to Waiting in Wonder, an Advent podcast—a four-part Advent miniseries for this strange season between what was and what will be. This episode is called You See Me.In this third week of Advent, we’re listening for joy in places where life doesn’t feel joyful at all. In each episode of this series, I’ve been introducing you to a friend or colleague whose story makes Advent feel human.Today, I’m highlighting my own story—and how I’m learning to trust that God still sees me in this long season of waiting since my job ended at Eastern Nazarene College last December.In this episode, you’ll hear parts of two conversations: one with my husband, Steve Tumalo, and one with my mom, Becky Tegerstrand.This episode is also inspired by Mary, the mother of Jesus, and by someone you may not have heard of before—a Jewish woman named Etty Hillesum, who died at Auschwitz.My husband and I talked about what felt like a moment for the history books: an experience of extreme highs and devastating lows.SafariIt was June of 2024.We were at the tail end of a trip with Eastern Nazarene College students. Before the safari, we had been in Nairobi with a remarkable group of students.Now we were in the middle of the savanna—elephants roaming outside our tent at night, close enough to feel unsettling.On the final morning of the safari, I noticed a text message on your phone. I don’t usually look at your phone. You weren’t even awake yet.As I moved it, I saw it was from Matt Thomas at Eastern Nazarene College. That struck me as strange.I looked at the message—it said something like, I want you to know something.Then I read it.It’s been announced. Eastern Nazarene College is closing.I was stunned. My first thought was you.I didn’t know what to do. I thought it would be better if you heard it from me. So I handed you the phone and curled up next to you.We didn’t say much at first. After a while, I said, “I normally don’t look at your messages, but I saw this one—and I need to tell you about it.”TrustThat news, delivered in a safari tent on the Maasai Mara, began a question I’ve been asking all year:When I say I trust God—what am I actually trusting God for?Am I trusting God to smooth the road ahead of me? To make something good happen? To take care of us financially?I’ve wanted that. I’ve wanted God to come down and fix things.My commitment to the Church of the Nazarene and to higher education had been such a monumental part of my life. It meant everything to me. And when that went away, I felt completely lost.So what does it mean to trust God when something you love—and something you were good at—disappears?When I say I trust God, am I trusting God to make life work out the way I think it should?Or is it something else?I think it has to be something else.Joy and WaitingWhen churches light the third Advent candle—joy—I’m standing in a very in-between place.It’s been almost a year since my job ended. I took a sabbatical. I’ve taught adjunct classes. I’ve sorted through options and wondered what kind of work could hold both my gifts and our financial needs.That’s the landscape where I’m trying to understand joy.A Conversation with My MomI talked with my mom, Becky, about joy—and she reminded me what joy looked like before I had words for any of this.One of the best descriptions of joy I’ve encountered is this: joy happens when we are seen.The Psalms talk about God seeing our face—and when that happens, there is joy.My mom said, “I remember you as a baby in your crib. You would wait expectantly. And when we came into the room, you’d start bouncing. You’d march on the mattress. You just glowed.”That was joy.Being SeenWhen I think of joy as something that happens when we know we’re seen, I can relate to that.There have been so many moments of fear and anxiety this year. But when I’m quiet long enough, I reach a place in me that can trust—and that knows God sees me.That’s where joy becomes possible, even in the middle of awful things.God also sends people who see us. People who encourage us. People who say, “Hang on. God is working.”That’s how we’re helped into joy when life doesn’t feel joyful.A Call ConfirmedAs a college student at Point Loma Nazarene University, God confirmed my call through a woman’s voice.I was a sophomore, sitting in Janine Metcalf’s office—the only female religion professor at the time. I told her I wanted to study Bible and theology, but I didn’t know if that was possible as a woman.She helped me see that I could do anything—and that God saw me as a gifted woman.Later that day, alone in my dorm room, I opened my Bible to Mary’s song in Luke 1.“My soul magnifies the Lord,and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant…”I felt seen.I sensed God saying: You too can be called blessed. You too can do great things.And I said yes.Teaching and TransformationTeaching has always been a source of deep joy for me.I’m not the sage on the stage—I’m a facilitator of experience.One practice I used with students involved fifteen minutes of silence, listening to one voice at a time, without responding. Students hated it at first.But then something happened. They noticed themselves listening. They noticed their habits. They changed.Watching that transformation—that’s one of the greatest joys of my life.The CaminoIn 2022, I led students on a pilgrimage on the Camino de Santiago.It was beautiful. And it was brutal.One day, exhausted, emotionally depleted, I faced the possibility of the group unraveling. Students were considering leaving early. I felt like everything was about to fall apart.I called my husband, crying, afraid I would react from pain instead of wisdom.That moment became a crucible.Later, Steve helped me see something: that moment on the Camino mirrors where we are now—building a new life and ministry together, in uncertainty.Etty HillesumEtty Hillesum was a young Jewish woman in Amsterdam during the Nazi occupation. She kept a diary and wrote letters from a transit camp on the way to Auschwitz, where she died in 1943.She wrote:“There is a really deep well inside me.And in it dwells God.Sometimes I am there too.But more often stones and grit block the well.And God must be dug out again.”That image has stayed with me.The work of this season has been digging—clearing stones and grit so I can reconnect with what’s most alive in me.A Small PracticeOne day, overwhelmed with grief and anxiety, I sat in my car near our community garden.I noticed green trees. A black fence. Yellow flowers. Tomatoes growing.I felt my feet on the ground. My body held by the seat.And there—quietly—I sensed God saying: You are not alone. I see you.Closing ReflectionMary’s life wasn’t settled. Etty Hillesum’s life wasn’t safe.Joy didn’t come from a smooth road. It came from being seen and known by God.So what am I trusting God for?Not a guarantee—but presence.Not certainty—but the grace to keep clearing the well.If this Advent season we can make space to be seen—and to see—then whatever else happens, we will know something of true joy.Thank YouThank you for listening.In a real way, your listening is a form of seeing me—and I don’t take that lightly.Wherever this finds you, may you know yourself as seen.And may that knowing lead you into joy.Connect and SupportTo learn more about Everyday Peacemaking, explore spiritual direction with Julene, or invite a training for your community or team, visit:www.everydaypeacemaking.orgJulene is welcoming new spiritual direction clients, and she and Steve offer online and in-person trainings that weave together spiritual formation, inner work, and everyday skills for peacemaking.Thank you for listening, and for the gift of seeing and hearing this story. Get full access to Human Is A Verb: Julene Tegerstrand, Ph.D. at humanisaverb.substack.com/subscribe

Dear Human is a Verb Community-On the first Sunday of Advent, my husband Steve carried a mixing bowl full of red radishes into a church potluck. That unlikely root vegetable became a symbol of an invitation: stay awake to God’s presence by practicing radical hospitality.Radical hospitality is about being rooted and grounded. It is a way of being receptive to our own pain without shame, receiving others without defensiveness, and receiving our incarcerated and returning neighbors as part of the one human body we belong to.In this episode, Steve shares:• how “radical” actually means rooted• what hospitality looks like inside ourselves and in community• why people impacted by incarceration belong at the center of our concern• how Heart to Heart supports healing and leadership for returning citizensSteve and Heart-to-Heart developed an Advent devotional that you can access here.Learn More* Heart to Heart – supporting people impacted by incarceration: heart2heartinc.org* Everyday Peacemaking – courses and resources for grounding your life in peace* Spiritual DirectionSupport the Podcast and SubstackIf this episode resonates, share it with a friend or leave a review. It helps this work reach the people who need it. Get full access to Human Is A Verb: Julene Tegerstrand, Ph.D. at humanisaverb.substack.com/subscribe

Episode 2: “I Got You” – Preparing for Peace in the WildernessWhat does it mean to prepare for peace when your own life feels anything but peaceful? In this episode, we follow Pastor Mat Thomas into the wilderness of infertility, foster care, and adoption, and we meet John the Baptist and Catherine of Siena along the way.Mat and his wife I’Esha longed for children and walked through the heartbreak of fertility challenges. Their story winds through doctors’ appointments, prayers that felt unanswered, and eventually a call to become foster parents. As Mat tells the story of saying yes to Martin, Russ, and later Braydon, we sit with the tension of foster care: whose good news is this, and who carries the cost?Alongside Mat’s story, we listen again to John the Baptist crying out in the wilderness, “Prepare the way of the Lord,” and we meet Catherine of Siena, who imagined Christ as a bridge between God and a wounded world. Catherine speaks of the “cell of self-knowledge,” an inner place where we let God show us our real hearts so we can keep walking in love without numbing out or running away.In this conversation, those images braid together:The wilderness where life does not look like the script we hoped forThe bridge where we stand with Christ over deep and dangerous watersThe cell where we sit honestly with our fear, longing, and love in the presence of GodAt the center of the episode is a moment in church. During the doxology, a not-quite-one-year-old Braydon runs across the sanctuary, wraps himself around Mat’s legs, and will not let go. Mat picks him up, looks him in the eyes, and says, “It’s gonna be okay, buddy. I got you.” The episode returns to this moment as a living picture of the promises of baptism, the wilderness of infertility, the complexity of foster care, and the quiet way peace sometimes arrives in our lives.In this episode we explore:Infertility, grief, and the wilderness places that shake what we believe about GodHow a local church became a second family for an 18-year-old Mat, and how that shaped his ability to welcome othersThe tension at the heart of foster care and adoption: holding love for the children and their first family at the same timeCatherine of Siena’s “cell of self-knowledge” and Christ as a bridge between God and a suffering worldHow silence and stillness can become places where we finally hear God say, “I got you”A simple practice for your own wildernessNear the end of the episode, I guide a short reflection. You can use it here as a written prayer practice:Notice a wilderness place in your life right now. A place of not knowing. A place of longing. A place of uncertainty. Name it quietly to yourself.Notice what feelings live there. Do not argue with them or correct them. Let them be real.Imagine a small, honest inner room. Picture it as your own “cell of self-knowledge,” where God is already waiting for you.Hear these words spoken to you in that place: “It’s going to be okay. I got you.”Let that be your peace for this week of Advent.About the voices you hearRev. Mat Thomas is the pastor at Bethel Church of the Nazarene in Quincy, Massachusetts. He is married to I’Esha, and together they are parents to three boys: Martin, Russ, and Braydon. Matt’s ministry is shaped by his own story of finding belonging in a local Nazarene congregation as a teenager.Dr. Julene Tegerstrand is a spiritual director and the co-founder of Everyday Peacemaking. She works at the intersection of spiritual formation, conflict transformation, and everyday peacemaking, helping people cultivate inner resources for hard conversations and seasons of disruption.CreditsWaiting in Wonder is a four-part Advent miniseries on peace, hope, joy, and love, sponsored by the New England District Church of the Nazarene.Story and narration: Julene TegerstrandGuest: Rev. Matt ThomasDoxology recording and Waiting in Wonder theme: Rev. Dr. John NielsenMusic: Blue Dot Sessions, including tracks from the album MigrationIf this story has stirred something in you, consider sharing this episode with someone who might need company in their own wilderness this Advent. Get full access to Human Is A Verb: Julene Tegerstrand, Ph.D. at humanisaverb.substack.com/subscribe

Dear Human is a Verb Community—I’ve been working on an Advent resource with a group of colleagues from ENC over created my first-ever storytelling podcast mini-series called Waiting in Wonder. Each episode follows a story of one of my ENC Religion colleagues, a gospel story, and a Woman Christian Mystic who lived in a time of disruption.Episode 1: Waiting without Turning Away: David Young, Simone Weil, and Matthew Ch 24Episode 2: I Got You: Mat Thomas, Catherine of Siena, Mathew Ch 3Episode 3: Julene Tegerstrand, Etty Hillesom, Matthew Ch 11Episode 4: John Nielson, Julian of Norwich, Matthew Ch 1I’m thrilled to share the first episode with you. If you like what you hear, will you share it with a few people?I’d love for this series to be a blessing to many this Advent/Christmas season. I’ll be sharing the second episode during the week of Thanksgiving!Peace,JuleneAbout Waiting in Wonder: Advent ResourceWaiting in Wonder: A Journey Through Advent is a resource created for the New England District Church of the Nazarene by the former Religion and Culture faculty at Eastern Nazarene College. It is a free resource designed to guide you and your community through the four weeks of Advent. It has a wide range of resources for pastors, teachers, small group leaders, and anyone who wants devotional tools to journey through this sacred season. This podcast episode is part of a 4-part mini-series developed for that resource.Summary of Episode 2In this first episode of Waiting in Wonder, Julene talks with her friend Pastor David Young about what it means to slow down and pay attention during Advent. David shares how beauty, loss, and waiting have shaped his faith and how learning to “waste time” with God has become a way to stay awake to what really matters.Drawing from Matthew 24 and the writings of Simone Weil, this conversation invites us to notice our hunger for God, to resist hurry, and to see everyday moments as places where love quietly arrives.Key Themes* Attention as prayer and resistance* Simone Weil’s wisdom on hunger and presence* Beauty as a teacher in a culture of striving* Waiting as spiritual discipline and human honesty* How loss reorients our priorities and our seeingScripture & Spiritual Voices* Gospel Reading: Matthew 24 : 36 – 44* Wisdom Voice: Simone Weil, Waiting for GodGuestRev. David Young is a pastor and teacher, co-pastoring at North Street Chapel in Hingham, Massachusetts. His reflections on beauty, loss, and waiting invite us to slow down and see the sacred in everyday life.HostDr. Julene Tegerstrand is a spiritual director, leadership educator, and co-founder of Everyday Peacemaking. She helps people cultivate inner stillness and presence in volatile and uncertain times.Practice InvitationTake five minutes outdoors this week.No phone. No list.Notice three beautiful things.Whisper, “I receive this.”Let your waiting become prayer.Quotation“Waiting isn’t wasted time.It’s the soul staying alert, refusing to trade mystery for speed.”— Julene TegerstrandCreditsOriginal music: Waiting in Wonder by John NielsenProduced by Julene Tegerstrand and Everyday PeacemakingConnectExplore the full Waiting in Wonder Advent resource by signing up for access here.Full TranscriptDavid Young:It was 75 degrees and sunny with a nice light ocean breeze—perfect. Just enough clouds in the sky to be beautiful. I looked out across Wollaston and thought, I can’t believe I get to live this close to water. I was taking it in—there to be present, have undivided attention, and notice the world. And I said to God, What am I supposed to do with all this—this beauty?Julene Tegerstrand:That’s my friend, David Young. He’s a pastor and teacher, co-pastoring at North Street Chapel in Hingham, Massachusetts. His question that day—What am I supposed to do with this beauty?—became the seed for this Advent series.You’re listening to Waiting in Wonder, a four-part podcast miniseries sponsored by the New England District Church of the Nazarene. I’m Julene Tegerstrand, a spiritual director, leadership educator, and co-founder of Everyday Peacemaking.As you listen, we hope each episode invites you into sacred space. Each week we’ll weave together three voices:– a gospel text to anchor us,– a voice of wisdom from Christian history to expand our imagination, and– a story from one of our pastors, teachers, or friends here in New England.Together, these voices invite us to wait—not in fear or hurry, but in wonder—awake to how God quietly arrives in the ordinary.In this first episode we begin with Matthew 24, where Jesus says keep awake. We’ll listen with Simone Weil, who taught that attention is a form of love, and we’ll return to David’s story—from loss to a new way of seeing beauty.When David asked, What am I supposed to do with all this beauty?—I saw myself in that question. It’s a reflex so many of us have: to turn gifts into projects, to translate wonder into usefulness. Even standing before a sunset or mountain view, our first instinct is to take a picture, even though the photo can never capture what we’re standing in.That day on the jetty, David was practicing what he called wasting time—and doing it in God’s beauty.David Young:I’m a very task-oriented person. Having a to-do list and checking things off makes me feel accomplished. There’s always the temptation to be more productive, to get two or three things done at once. To give undivided attention is seen as a waste of time—or at least a luxury, a privilege.Julene Tegerstrand:French writer Simone Weil once wrote, “The danger is not that the soul doubts whether there is bread, but that it persuades itself it is not hungry.”When I first read Weil, I didn’t expect to hear her 1940s echo of our own experience. She was a philosopher who refused to stay safe while her country went to war—teaching by day and working factory shifts by night. She believed ideas were only true if they could stand in the presence of pain.For Weil, a way to wake up was to cultivate attention: “Attention is the purest form of prayer.” To pay attention without turning away—that was her act of resistance. And it’s ours too: to look at beauty and pain and not turn away.Advent is the season for attending to our hungers and making room for wonder. The church calendar invites us to slow down—and it’s profoundly counter-cultural.I asked David to share what Advent means for the church.David Young:The church year patterns our life after Jesus’s life—Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, Easter, Pentecost. It bends time around his story. What’s fascinating about Advent is that we don’t start at Christmas; we start by waiting. For four weeks, every year, the church says, Wait. Because waiting has value, even though our society treats it as a waste of time.Julene Tegerstrand:When you hear Advent, what image comes to mind? A manger? Mary and Joseph? Yet Matthew 24 surprises us:“Two will be in the field; one will be taken, one left… Keep awake, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming… Therefore you must be ready.”David Young:In Greek, keep awake means keep guard. Someone on guard must give undivided attention because others’ well-being depends on it. That’s challenging today—everything divides our attention. We’ve eliminated waiting; we want instant answers, instant deliveries, instant meals. But that shapes our imagination for God’s work, making us expect spiritual growth to happen like fast food or Amazon Prime. Scripture tells a slower story—Abraham dies with only one son. God’s promises unfold over lifetimes. That’s the value of Advent.Julene Tegerstrand:Before we move on, take a deep breath. Notice the waiting already woven into your life—a hope half-formed, a prayer unanswered. What if instead of rushing past it, you gave it your full attention?If Abraham lived in our world, he’d probably refresh the page: still processing a great nation. But God’s promises come by seasons—slow, human, alive.Our culture prizes production over presence. David knows this tension well.David Young:I’m an Enneagram 5—the Investigator. My core desire is to be competent; my core fear is not being competent. That desire runs deep in me. I want to do things well, to be the expert. It’s also embedded in American culture—our imagination of success defines us by productivity.Julene Tegerstrand:Every lesson about waiting eventually stops being theoretical. For David, it came through disruption. In 2011 he was pastoring in Illinois and waiting to hear from PhD programs. Then his father had a stroke—and everything shifted.David Young:I’d just visited him; he seemed better. I went home to Illinois to prepare for our move to Boston for my PhD. We’d talked on Skype that day—he looked great. A few hours later, nurses called: your dad’s passing away. By the time I finished asking how much time he had, he was gone.Julene Tegerstrand:Have you ever had a moment when everything urgent falls silent? When your lists look small in the face of loss? That’s the waiting without an answer.David Young:That was when I realized how unaccustomed I was to waiting for my desires to be fulfilled. It’s shaped me ever since. I’m not anxiety-free, but less anxious now. When my dad died while I was waiting for PhD acceptance letters, it re-oriented everything—what mattered, what didn’t.Julene Tegerstrand:After his dad’s death, life felt different. Maybe that’s what Advent teaches too: sometimes it takes losing control to remember what waiting really is—a way of saying, I can’t fix this, but I can stay awake to what’s here today.David Young:When my wife and I talk now, I often say, I don’t want to ride that emotional roller coaster. Someone once told me, ask, “Is this a three-day problem?” If not, let it go. That perspective helps. Waiting becomes a spiritual discipline that prepares us for the moments we have no choice but to wait—illness, infertility, unanswered longing. Practicing waiting prepares us for real life.Julene Tegerstrand:And there are quieter opportunities to practice waiting—the ordinary pressures to keep accomplishing when the soul is asking for rest.David Young:When I get too busy, pinging from task to task, I feel disintegrated. I have to step back. When I do, clarity returns.Julene Tegerstrand:When you give yourself permission not to accomplish, you gain clarity about what truly matters and what’s yours to do.David Young:Exactly. When I don’t, I drift—living by what I think others expect of me.Julene Tegerstrand:So we find David back where we began, at Wollaston Beach—but now we’ve walked with him through hunger, attention, waiting, and loss.He’d spent a day in deep conversation, then went for a run. Instead of heading home, he walked out on a jetty and stood there.David Young:I was there to be present, have undivided attention, notice the world. And again I asked, God, what am I supposed to do with all this beauty?And God said, What are you talking about? Enjoy it.I was being invited to listen—to recognize the value in simply waiting and noticing beauty, not producing anything.Julene Tegerstrand:That’s attentive waiting—the kind of seeing that refuses to swallow beauty, that lets desire stay open. It’s what Jesus means by keep awake. Waiting isn’t wasted time—it’s the soul staying alert, refusing to trade mystery for speed.David Young:Maybe part of Advent’s wisdom is this: we can’t see Jesus clearly in other seasons unless we first take a posture of waiting.Julene Tegerstrand:Advent begins in the dark—with attention, hunger, and the courage to wait for what we cannot yet see.This week’s practice is simple:Take five minutes outdoors. No phone, no list. Notice three beautiful things. When you notice one, whisper, I receive this.May your waiting be honest.May your hunger stay awake.May you notice when love draws near.Presence might be the holiest work of all.Thank you to David Young for sharing his story, to John Nielsen for the song Waiting in Wonder, and to the New England District Church of the Nazarene for supporting this project.Next week Pastor Mat Thomas joins us with a story of a little boy running across the sanctuary and wrapping his arms around Matt’s legs—like God saying, I’ve got you.Until then, may you find stillness, beauty, and love drawing near.More about the guest:David Young, is co-pastor with Jacob Hafler at North Street Community Church of the Nazarene in Hingham, MA. He also serves on the New England District NDI Council and Board of Ministry and teaches for Northwest Nazarene University’s online Christian Ministry program. Previous ministry roles include Dean of the Chapel and Associate Professor of Biblical Literature at Eastern Nazarene College as well as Pastor of Clinton First Church of the Nazarene in Clinton, IL. Dave is a graduate of Boston University School of Theology (Ph.D., New Testament and Early Christianity), Nazarene Theological Seminary (M.Div.) and Eastern Nazarene College (B.A., Theology and Philosophy). He met his wife, Jessica, while they were both students at ENC. They have three remarkable children; Hannah, Malachi, and Esther. Dave loves basketball, biking, pizza, tacos, and New England summers (New England winters are another matter), and studying scripture. Get full access to Human Is A Verb: Julene Tegerstrand, Ph.D. at humanisaverb.substack.com/subscribe

 Welcome to Human as a Verb, an audio newsletter this week about practicing the sacred work of being human. Today, we'll explore the Benedictine rhythm of prayer and work and how contemplative Praxis invites us to view our inner life and social action as an integrated whole, shaping our engagement with the world. And to bring this to life, I wanted to share a story about someone who listened to me, not only with their words, but with their whole life. Through simple acts of hospitality and welcome, it takes me back to when I lived in South Korea from 2004 to 2008, which seems like ages ago now.During those years, I worked at Korea Nazarene University. I was an English professor and helped lead an English chapel, much like I shared last week. This story is another reminder that our inner lives are always tied to the way that we live and move in the world. So I hope you enjoy.The Bell That Interrupted I was deep in a book one afternoon at the Mother House in Korea when it happened again.The bell rang.And everything stopped.Sisters set down their tools mid-task. Conversations ended mid-sentence. Even I felt the pull to close my book, though I did not want to. I wanted to keep reading. I wanted to finish the thought I was chasing. But I knew Sr. Anna Marie would notice if I did not show up. So, a little annoyed, I went.When I stepped into the chapel, I could not understand the words because everything was in Korean. So I watched. I listened. The sisters stood and bowed, their voices rising in song. They sang like angels. And as I stood there, still carrying my resistance, something shifted.Beyond the Stereotype of Monastic LifeWhen most of us think of monks or nuns, we imagine endless hours of peaceful prayer, untouched by the demands of ordinary life. But what I found with the Benedictine sisters was the opposite.Their lives were full, often stressful, demanding. And yet there was a rhythm that held it all together. A rhythm of prayer and work, what Benedictines call ora et labora.That is what this episode is about: how prayer and work are not separate things but one life. And why that matters for those of us who want to live as people of prayer and justice in the world.Learning to Live with InterruptionsWhen I first met the sisters, I romanticized their lives. I thought they were like retreatants, free to set their own prayer schedules, to move at their own pace. I quickly learned I was wrong.Their days were ordered by the bell. And when the bell rang, it did not matter what they were doing, everything stopped.At first, I resented it. It felt like living with chronic interruptions. Imagine sending an email or writing a letter, and suddenly the bell calls you away. Or tending to a task that you know will now be left unfinished until later. At first, that felt frustrating.But over time, I noticed something. The interruptions did not diminish their lives. They shaped them. The sisters began to measure their work by the pauses, not the other way around.And this began to form me too. Even when I did not want to stop, choosing to pause created space for something deeper to emerge.Benedictine Sister Embodied WitnessNo one embodied this rhythm better than Sr. Anna Marie, who ran the retreat center at the Mother House. She walked fast, always had a lot going on, but she was unfailingly hospitable.“Julene, come,” she would say. It was always an invitation, to join her, to participate, to share in her life. Her office was buzzing: the phone ringing, her calendar crammed with retreat groups. And yet she made space. She invited me to meals. Once, she even made a special kalbi barbecue just for me.After decades of Benedictine life, she did not balance prayer and work. She embodied them as one.A Theology of Human Goodness and PossibilityAt the heart of the contemplative life is a belief about what it means to be human. We are created in goodness. Marked by possibility. Invited into transformation.Christian practices, the means of grace, grow our capacity to hear God and to be open to what God might do in us. But those practices are not enough if they do not change the way we live. How we treat one another. How we lead. How we follow.This is the work of spiritual formation: not only shaping private prayer lives but transforming the ways we live and lead in community.Prayer as a Way of LifeAnd this is what I realized with the sisters: prayer is not something you escape into. Prayer is how you live your life.The active life, emails, caregiving, cooking, advocacy, is not separate from contemplation. It is contemplation embodied.The Challenge of Ora et LaboraThat is the real challenge of ora et labora.The contemplative life is not only what happens in silence or song. It is how we show up in conflicts. It is how we handle interruptions. It is how we resist the compulsion to be in control.Our active life, our justice work, our relationships, even the ordinary chores of human-ing, is as much prayer as anything that happens in a chapel. This is also what contemplative leadership requires: a willingness to let prayer shape how we act, decide, and engage with the world.Can Life Itself Become Prayer?The Benedictines remind us that prayer and work, contemplation and justice, mysticism and prophecy, are not two separate paths. They are one integrated life lived in God.So for us, the question is not, “How do I fit prayer into my busy life?” The real question is, “Can I let my busy life itself become prayer?”And in a world fractured by division, maybe this is the invitation of ora et labora for us today: to let prayer and presence flow into the way we live, love, and even practice conflict transformation in our daily lives.This is the heart of everyday peacemaking: learning to live with a receptive posture toward God, toward ourselves, and toward others.That is also why I am offering a course called Pathways to Peace, designed to help resource the inner life so you can step into difficult conversations with grace and greater connection to God, self, and others.Ora et labora. Prayer and work. Everyday PeacemakingMore and more, this newsletter will be connected to the work of Everyday Peacemaking, a ministry my husband and I are starting together.Pathways to PeaceWe’d love for you to join us in November for a learning journey called Pathways to Peace. You can think of it like a retreat for your soul, a way to strengthen your relational capacities for having difficult conversations. And Thanksgiving itself will be a practicum, where you’ll practice what you’re learning around the table with a friend or relative who may see things differently from you on political or social issues.The Invitation of Ora et LaboraThis is the invitation of ora et labora for us today: to let prayer and presence flow into the way we live, love, and even practice conflict transformation in our daily lives. This is the heart of everyday peacemaking—learning to live with a receptive posture toward God, ourselves, and others.Going Into Your WeekThanks for listening, everybody. As you go into your week, I encourage you to notice the “bells” in your own life—the interruptions or pauses you may not be looking for but that arrive anyway. Try receiving them as invitations to prayer. This is the essence of the contemplative life: letting our inner life shape our outer life so that we live more grounded, attentive, and connected with God, with ourselves, and, of course, with others.Have a great week.Julene Tegerstrand, Ph.D. Get full access to Human Is A Verb: Julene Tegerstrand, Ph.D. at humanisaverb.substack.com/subscribe

Dear Human Is A Verb Community,Here is what you can expect in this (long) essay:* What's left of our humanity when AI can do everything?* Why "bearing God's image" matters in the age of machines* How the Creation and ancient exile stories speak to a people facing disruption* Why emotional intelligence, empathy, and courage are our superpowersThis essay is for you if... have you ever wondered what it means to be human in a world where machines seem more capable than we are.Since the essay got long, I made an audio version so it can be listened to ‘on the go.’I hope this essay gives you hope in the midst of great uncertainty and change.Peace,JuleneFacing Our Own Exile"In the beginning... the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters." (Genesis 1:2)Artificial Intelligence is ushering us into our own our own formless void.Like the people of God who became exiles and lost their temple, we're watching the unraveling something important to us….human cognitive supremacy. The sacred center of what made us unique is being rewritten by new technologies.Like those who lost their homeland, many will face displacement from familiar territories of work, learning, and creativity. We're going to have to navigate the strange new empire of algorithmic decision-making.I welcome some of this. And I still believe that even if machines do the work, humans need the skills of discernment.The Day AI Got PersonalMy first time hearing about Artificial General Intelligence (AGI) was in March 2025, when Ezra Klein interviewed Ben Buchanan, special advisor to the Biden administration on A.I. policy. What’s important to understand about AGI is that it marks a shift from narrow, task-specific intelligence to flexible, general-purpose intelligence.AGI will be able to reason, solve problems, and create across a wide range of fields without needing to be retrained for each new task.Buchanan warned that systems capable of replacing humans in cognitive work are coming, "quite likely during Donald Trump's presidency," and that today is "the worst it's ever going to be."We're talking about the end of work as we know it, the end of rational human dominance, and potentially the end of the world as we've always known it.This was a mic-drop moment.All of a sudden, I felt like I'd been living under a rock, unaware that a technological renaissance was already reshaping our world.I’ve lived among a community of people who’ve lost their jobs and in some cases, their very sense of vocational identity. I’ve seen how deeply disorienting and painful this can be.So when I heard that our entire society might soon face something similar, my heart dropped for all of us.If AI becomes better at logic and language, what do we still have that’s truly sacred and truly human?Why Faith Has to Be More Than ThinkingWe've unconsciously built so much of our faith around the very thing AI now does better than us: rational operations, logical arguments, systematic theology.In Part 1, “What if a Robot Prayed the Sinner’s Prayer?,” I shared how this question exposed something I’d been feeling for a long time. Faith, especially discipleship, had been treated like a cognitive download. If you learn the right things and think the right thoughts, you're formed.But I’ve been longing for something more embodied. I want a faith that doesn’t just live in my head, but shows up in my relationships. How I listen. How I show up. How I love.What Makes Us Human—StillZack Kass, a former OpenAI executive, describes what will remain uniquely human when machines take over as “negative space.” In other words, when AGI becomes commonplace, the real question is: what’s left for humans to do?Negative space is not a loss. It is an opening. Like a photographic negative, the image becomes visible through the contrast of light and dark. In the same way, negative space reveals what remains human after our cognitive abilities have been outsourced or commodified.Kass suggests the future will depend on distinctly human capacities like:* Adaptability* Courage* Curiosity* Wisdom* Empathy* Emotional intelligenceI would add ‘spiritual intelligence’ to the list.What struck me is that humans have been in this negative space before.Walter Brueggemann (1982) argues that the “In the beginning” passage in Genesis 1 was written to a displaced people, the Israelites living in Babylon. They were facing their own kind of “negative space.” Of course, we know it as the “formless void,” or tohu va-bohu. Everything that once gave their lives structure and meaning had dissolved.But in the great uncertainty of exile, they remembered: God had worked in the chaos before. God brought beauty and order out of mess.What gives me hope is:God didn’t eliminate the chaos. God created in the middle of it.When I read about the Israelites in exile, disoriented and unsure if they’d ever return to the life they knew, I thought to myself, “I’ve seen this too!”I’ve watched institutions dissolve, and with them, the sense of identity people had built over decades.I know what it’s like to sit in that formless void and wonder if anything good could come from it.That’s why this story matters to me. It reminds me that God has worked in the chaos before. And maybe that’s exactly what’s happening now.The Radical Meaning of “Image of God”At the heart of the Creation story is a radical declaration: Humans are made in the image of God.Though I’d gone to seminary and done doctoral work, I had forgotten Genesis was written in part for people in exile. The “In the Beginning….” was written to a people who needed a new beginning! And needed to remind themselves of who God had been and was for them in exile.And remember, the Creation story isn’t science or history. I know this continues to be hotly debated. It’s theology and poetry for people who had been traumataized and facing great disruption.The image of God in the Creation story wasn’t about rationality or intellect. It was about exercising power the way God does: through invitation, not coercion.Brueggemann (1982) describes this image as "power that invites, evokes, and permits" (p.32).Betty Pries (2020) calls it our "deeper self" — "the same love-infused, life-force energy that breathes in and through each person" (p.92).AI can simulate empathy. It can generate beauty. It can offer comfort.But it can’t touch the mystery. It can’t connect with the love-infused energy that binds us to each other and to the divine. (At least not yet?)Sacred Skills for an AI AgeWhen I heard Kass’s list of humanistic qualities companies need to ‘optimize’ for — adaptability, courage, curiosity, wisdom, empathy — I laughed out loud.These are not new skills. They are the sacred capacities we’ve been called to all along.Negative space refers to the sacred human qualities that AGI can't replicate.It’s good news for the people of God.When I heard that list, I realized: these are the things I’ve been drawn to, developed through teaching and ministry, and tried to embody as an image bearer shaped by the life of Christ. And I know many Christian leaders who similarly embody these capacities.We may be entering into a period of great disruption and greater uncertainity, but we have what the world needs. Not only this, we have what the world will value!What the world is going to value are sacred skills.Reflecting a Relational GodThe image we bear is God’s. And the Genesis story isn’t mainly about us—it’s about who God is.Brueggemann (1982) points out that in the ancient world, kings placed statues of themselves across their empires to signal their rule, even when they couldn’t be physically present (p. 32). So when Genesis says that humans are made in God’s image, it’s not just a nice thought. It’s saying something radical! Humans are meant to represent God’s presence on earth.But what kind of God are we imaging?Brueggemann’s (1982) reading of Genesis 1–3 gives us a clear picture. God isn’t portrayed as a distant, controlling force. God is personal, generous, deeply relational, respectful of human freedom, faithful in pain, and creative in chaos.Now, this is a God I’m drawn to be in relationship with! And so different from the powers that are ruling today! Right?!?What I love is that God’s characteristics match what today’s AI experts are saying machines can’t replicate.The list of “negative space” capacities we are going to need when AGI is common place aren’t just human strengths. They reflect the very characteristics of God we were made to bear.Here’s how they line up:* Adaptability mirrors the God who created order from chaos—not by eliminating the dark, but by shaping something good out of it.* Courage reflects the God who gives humans real agency, even knowing they might choose against him.* Curiosity shows up in God’s first questions to humans: “Where are you?” “Who told you that?” Not condemnation, but honest engagement.* Wisdom is God declaring creation “good,” forming a world not just to function, but to flourish.* Empathy is God allowing freedom, showing up in our pain without control, and choosing presence over punishment.So no, this isn’t about filling the “negative space” with more doing or performing. It’s about recognizing that the space itself is sacred. These are the exact qualities the world will need more of... and that the people of God can offer.Living into these capacities is what we were made for. We just need to remember who we are in the chaos.We bear the image of a God who creates without coercion, who shows up with presence, who honors freedom, and who stays faithful even in pain.The “negative space” may feel uncertain, but it might just be the clearest place where we reflect the One who made us.Becoming Human in the Space That’s LeftAI experts are already telling us that humanistic skills will define the future. But Christians have a different name for them: the image of God.The “negative space” machines can’t fill is sacred space—where human fragility, presence, and faithfulness matter most. It’s where God does some of his most beautiful work.We don’t need better algorithms. We need a better anthropology.We need to remember what it means to be human in God’s image—capable of love, freedom, presence, and responsibility.This is the kind of faith the world will need. And it’s the kind we were made for.Maybe the question isn’t “what will be left for humans?”But…“Who will I become in the space that’s left?”I’m curious, who are you aspiring to become in the ‘space that is left’? What capacities have you already cultivated? What capacities do you need more of?Next time— In part 3 of this series on Human-ing In The Age of AI, I’ll be looking at the Church’s redpemptive moment in an age of AI. I will do a deeper dive into not just how we ‘human’ in this AI age, but how we live into our identity as a people of God.References:Brueggemann, W. (1982). Genesis: Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching. Presbyterian Publishing Corporation.Ezra Klein piece: Klein, E. (2025, March 4). The government knows A.G.I. is coming [Interview with B. Buchanan]. The Ezra Klein Show. The New York TimesPries, B. (2020). The space between us: Conversations about transforming conflict. Herald Press.Zack Kass YouTube: Nielson, G. (Host). (2024, September 26). Former OpenAI lead Zack Kass: How AI will change society forever [Video]. Digital Disruption. YouTube. Get full access to Human Is A Verb: Julene Tegerstrand, Ph.D. at humanisaverb.substack.com/subscribe

n this episode, the story of a cookie in a prison classroom serves as the starting point for a deeper reflection on how dignity shows up in our lives — or doesn’t — in both small gestures and systemic failures. This reflection explores what it means to practice dignity, both individually and communally, and how the choices we make can either build or diminish the relational fabric that holds us together.Listen in as personal experience, spiritual insight, and a call to action come together, inviting us to cultivate a world where dignity is practiced, one small act at a time. Get full access to Human Is A Verb: Julene Tegerstrand, Ph.D. at humanisaverb.substack.com/subscribe

Is there someone you need to speak to, not about, but to?What if that phone call became a spiritual practice?Welcome to Human Is a Verb, a podcast about practicing the sacred work of being human.I'm your host, Julene Tegerstrand.Today's episode is a story about my dad and Iabout the phone calls I almost didn't make,and about how that simple choice became a doorway into something holy.I didn’t even know that discipleship could look like learning how to speakand listen in a new way.But it did.And in this episode, I want to talk about why we can't keep separating our spiritual growth from our relational lives.I hope this reflection helps you think differently about discipleshipand maybe even about one relationship in your own life.You're listening to Human Is a Verb, and this is Discipleship and the Distance Between Us.There was a time when I only spoke to my dad through my mom.And it felt really normal.Even easier.But looking back, I can see how it created distancethat I just didn't know how to cross.Traditionally, especially in Evangelical spaces,discipleship has focused on what we know:Bible studies, Sunday school, small groups, daily devotions, and accountability partners.These are important. They shape minds and build faith.I don’t want to diminish their value.But discipleship has often leaned too far into informationand not enough into formation,into what we believe rather than how we relate.And that gap matters,because it’s in our relationships that we’re often stretched the most.That’s where the transformation happens—in relationship.I remember the day I realized my dad was easier to talk to on the phone.We all had our own phones by then. I was in grad school.Something about the distance helped both of us settle.On the phone, my dad was different.He was less reactive and more open.I had always let my mom carry messages between us,but slowly, I started reaching out to him directly.At first, it felt awkward. Unnatural. Risky.But I kept calling.In the Wesleyan tradition, my tradition, we talk about holiness and sanctification.Holiness means being wholly devoted to God,and sanctification is the ongoing journey of becoming more like Christ.But sometimes in our churches, holiness becomes an internal or personal ideal,and we don’t talk enough about what that looks like in our everyday relationships.What does it mean to be sanctified in how we speak to our spouse?How we listen to a friend?How we show up when a conversation gets hard?If we are to be formed in the likeness of Christ,then our discipleship has to include these everyday, messy, human interactions.It has to include relationship skills because that’s where love gets lived.I didn’t know it then,but those calls to my dad were love-in-practice.They were slow, clumsy steps toward a deeper connection.And over time,they became more than just updates or surface-level check-ins.They became spaces where I heard his heart,and where I felt mine soften.That’s why I say: human is a verb.We aren’t just human by default.We’re invited to human-togetherin ways that reflect God in us and among us.This kind of holy humaning isn’t abstract.It’s tangible.It’s relational.It takes work.So what are the kinds of skills that helped change that relationship?What are the skills we’re missing in our discipleship today?Relational skills in spiritual formation include:* Empathic listening: hearing beyond words to the deeper need or feeling* Naming emotions: saying, “I feel hurt” or “I feel anxious” without blame or shutdown* Asking open, curious questions: inviting reflection and connection, not just correction* Making clean, clear requests: expressing needs without manipulating or demanding* Repairing ruptures: saying we’re sorry, owning our impact, and restoring trust when things go wrongThese aren’t just interpersonal skills.They are sacred practices.They are discipleship practices.I practiced these without even realizing it.Every time I chose to dial.Every time I stayed in the conversation, even if I stumbled.My dad wasn’t naturally a “phone guy,”but he became one.Because I called.Because I tried.Because he loved me and wanted to connect.And in those calls,we built something new.Something holy.Of course, it wasn’t easy.There were moments I hung up and cried.Times when old wounds surfaced.Learning to speak directly, to listen well, to stay present—it stretched me.And that’s the thing about relational skills:they don’t always feel rewarding in the moment.Sometimes, they stir up pain.Sometimes they’re exhausting.And sometimes they don’t “work” right away.It’s also possible to use the language without doing the heart work.To sound gracious while avoiding vulnerability.To use tools as protection instead of presence.These practices have to be rooted in spiritual formation—not performance.They have to be part of how we allow the Spirit to shape us.Not just in prayer,but in how we show up to the people God has given us to love.Being the People of God on the Pathway to PeaceTo be the people of God on the Pathway to Peace isn’t about getting all the answers right.It’s about staying connected—even when it’s hard.It means:* Staying in hard conversations* Choosing discomfort as a doorway to transformation* Building spiritual lives filled not only with Scripture and prayer,but also with listening, repair, and relational courageThis isn’t extra credit.This is the core of what it means to follow Jesus in a fractured world.When Jesus prayed “that they may be one,”he wasn’t praying for sameness.He was praying for relational unity—the kind that is forged in the fire of practice.What if listening is a spiritual practice?What if curiosity is a kind of worship?What if learning to name what you feel is a sacred act of honesty?What if offering a clean apology is holy?A Sacred InvitationThe last season of phone calls with my dad changed me.I heard his love for God.I felt his love for me.I learned to love him in a new way, too.He passed in 2013,but those calls are still alive in me.They were a spiritual practice before I had the language for it.They were discipleship.So what’s one relational practice you might take up this week?Is there someone you need to call?Is there a conversation you’re avoiding?A shift in how you speak, or listen, or show up?Maybe it’s…* Choosing curiosity over defensiveness* Listening all the way through without interrupting* Naming your feelings without blame* Asking an honest question and waiting for the answer* Or offering a clean, quiet apologyYou don’t have to get it perfect.You just have to start.One holy habit at a time.Thanks for reading and/or listening.If this resonated with you,I invite you to subscribe and/or share this with someone you care about.Maybe it’s someone you’ve been meaning to have a conversation with.By subscribing, you’ll get more reflections like this on faith, communication, vocation, spiritual direction, artificial intelligence, and what it means to practice the sacred work of being human.You can find me at humanisaverb.substack.comand julenetegerstrand.com.I’d love to hear your story.Until next time—Keep practicing.Because love isn’t just what we believe.It’s how we show up. Together. As human.Spiritual Direction Prompts:1. What relationship is stirring in your heart as you read or listen?What might God be revealing to you about that connection?2. How might you invite God's presence into that relationship today?Not to fix it—but to be present to it. To listen. To tend.3. What practice might you take up this week to nurture that relationship?Is it a call? A pause before speaking? A small act of repair?4. What do you need from God to stay present in this relationship?Courage? Patience? Tenderness? Ask for that now.5. What would holy love look like if it showed up between you—imperfectly, but honestly—in the next conversation?Human Is A Verb is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to Human Is A Verb: Julene Tegerstrand, Ph.D. at humanisaverb.substack.com/subscribe

One afternoon, I found myself standing at the kitchen counter with the fridge still open, not sure what I was looking for. I wasn’t hungry. I wasn’t even bored. I was just... full. Full of news updates I didn’t ask for, full of things I should be doing, full of opinions and noise and worry. The kind of full that makes you tired and a little mentally hangry.I closed the fridge, walked into our office (we call it the Sunrise Room), and stared out the window to the expansive blue ocean of a horizon. I know, it sounds dreamy, and it is. I live like an unemployed ocean dweller: jobless, budget-aware, and ridiculously lucky to be near the sea. The white crests of waves pulled me back to my center. For a moment, I remembered something: the feeling of just watching, breathing, noticing. No agenda. No feed to refresh.For the last few months, I've been responding to the call to slow my mind down so my emotions and body can heal. I'm calling it a sabbatical, but it's just a fancy way of saying I'm unemployed and need time to slow down and listen, to God, to myself, and to life.I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the pace of life. It’s fast. The news cycle is relentless, the demands of daily life pile up, and family adds another layer of complexity for many people. Even the good stuff, learning, growth, and inspiration, feels like a weight. The more information I consume, the more I crave silence (after all, I'm wired like a Type 5 on the Enneagram, someone who lives in her head). When I say “presence,” I don’t mean productivity hacks or ten minutes of mindfulness tracked on an app. I mean that deep, grounded awareness when I stop striving and start listening to my breath, my body, and the moment I’m actually in. My body and soul are asking me to slow down and listen more than I learn.Some days I wonder if the news's relentless pace is meant to exhaust us, distract us from what is real, true, and good. I’ve noticed that when I spend more time scrolling headlines, I’m more anxious, less curious, and definitely less kind. That can’t be an accident. Every day, there’s another wave of layoffs, another country being threatened, another public official bullied or discredited. Honestly, if Chaos had a PR team, they’d be up for an award. It’s enough to leave the nervous system frayed and the soul hiding, too afraid to risk exposure. It becomes harder and harder to secure the spaciousness we need for play, creativity, and rest. And what I, and maybe we, need more of in this season of the world is creativity and rest because these qualities feed our capacity for resilience. It becomes harder and harder to secure the spaciousness we need for play, creativity, and rest.And maybe that’s what presence is: not just mindfulness or quiet time, but a kind of counter-cultural defiance. A decision to return to what’s real, to what heals, and to resist the speed and scarcity that so often define our days.I need time to hear myself breathe, to notice the thoughts swirling in my head fall to my belly and dissipate. Writer and theologian Tricia Hersey reminds us that rest is not a luxury but a form of resistance—especially for those whose worth is tied to how much they produce. I think presence works the same way. It’s not lazy or passive. It’s a reclamation of humanity. Time to not be brilliant, or informed, or even “aware.” Time to just be. That kind of quiet attention, to my breath, to my thoughts, to the breeze hitting my windows, to the ocean waves unrolling like a red carpet for a queen, that’s what I mean by presence. Not just being physically somewhere but letting my awareness catch up to my body. Letting life touch me without rushing to fix or perform or post about it.In The Art of Passing Over (Paulist Press, 1988), Francis Dorff talks about “letting be.” Not fixing. Not escaping. Just allowing what is to be. Letting be, he writes, is the fruit of a long schooling in reverence (Dorff, 1988, p.#). We are more inclined to make things happen than to let them happen (Dorff, 1988, p.#). Dorff’s idea of “letting be” isn’t passive—it’s an act of faith, a counter to the constant push to fix, hustle, or perform. It reminds me that stillness is not the absence of movement but the presence of depth. That phrase keeps returning to me. Let it be. Let me be.And then this memory surfaced.I remember sitting alone on the recess line when I was a little girl. I don’t remember feeling lonely. But I do remember that someone asked me to change how I was acting, like there was something wrong with me for sitting there quietly, away from the other kids. I sense I was far away from the playground action, but now, as an adult, I suspect it wasn’t all that far. I was just apart. I was a contemplative child.Was I a loner? That I even ask myself this question suggests that something in me believes I was—and I still have this tendency. But this part of me, a loner, is also a deep thinker. She has the playground of the world in her mind.I didn’t want to be anything. I didn’t want anything asked of me. I just wanted a break from teachers, from peers, from noise. And because it wasn’t seen as a positive thing, I internalized that something must be wrong with me.But if I could go back now and be the teacher, I would kneel beside that little girl and say:"Julene, I see you sitting here against the fence. Are you enjoying this time because you can rest and be quiet?"And she might say, "Yes."Then I’d say, "Sometimes I need to be alone too. What do you do when you're here?"She might answer, "I just think. I watch the kids. I notice the breeze. I feel it against my skin. I see the clouds moving slowly. I watch the birds pecking at the sand. I look at the different blues in the sky. I watch the clouds move and look for the stories they are telling. Like today, two cats are wrestling, and then one nuzzled its face into the other and started licking its ear. I saw them chasing each other."And I would say, "It sounds like a playground in your mind. That’s beautiful. Julene, I’m so impressed with your capacity to play. I’m so sorry that no one recognized this before. What you are doing, this being, noticing, feeling, is important.""This world needs someone like you who can pause, observe, breathe, and play with the beauty around her. You have a window into the world far beyond your years."As an adult, I now see how the world often favors the loud, active, obvious forms of play. But we also need the slow, still, deep noticing. We need people who can listen to the inner and outer worlds and bring them into conversation.That little girl wasn’t doing anything wrong. She was practicing presence. And I trust her. That moment wasn’t just about childhood solitude. It was about learning to hold space and be still when the world pushes for noise. That’s the practice I’m reclaiming now.And maybe that’s what I’m being invited into now, not achieving something new, but returning to someone ancient in me. Maybe she’s been waiting by the fence, watching the breeze, offering me her attention if only I’ll stop long enough to listen. I know, it might sound naïve. In a world burning with injustice and noise, presence might seem passive. But what if it’s the only way to stay human in the middle of the fire?Throughout this season, I’ve learned that slowing down is not the same as stepping out. It’s stepping deeper in, into myself, into memory, into the kinds of wisdom that get drowned out by noise. My experiences of stillness, childhood solitude, and choosing breath over reaction have taught me that presence isn’t soft. It’s serious work. And it changes the way I live. That’s why I say presence is resistance. It doesn’t shout, tweet, or produce, but it reclaims the self from systems that profit from our exhaustion.So, today, I let her be.And I let myself be, too.And maybe tomorrow, when the next headline breaks, when the next outrage hits the feed, I’ll remember what she taught me. That I can step back. I don’t have to plug into every crisis or chase every fire. That there’s wisdom in choosing to turn toward the wind, the clouds, the quiet playground in my mind. Presence, the kind that slows the scroll, calms the panic, and brings me back to what’s real, isn’t just personal. In a culture that thrives on overstimulation and disconnection, presence becomes a radical act of resistance against the systems that keep us anxious, distracted, and numb.Note: ChatGPT was used to develop the image of a blonde child and to aid in editing this piece. Get full access to Human Is A Verb: Julene Tegerstrand, Ph.D. at humanisaverb.substack.com/subscribe