meditation, meditate, compassion, kinship, spirituality, Christian spirituality, Gregg Taylor, houston revision, reclaimed podcast, pastor gregg taylor, rev. gregg taylor
spiritual stuff to chew on

ABOUT

meditation, meditate, compassion, kinship, spirituality, Christian spirituality, Gregg Taylor, houston revision, reclaimed podcast

ABOUT MEDITATE THIS!

I guess for several years now my friend Jerry has had this "Meditate This" towel draped over his desk chair. As many times as I've seen it, I still find myself entertained by it. It just hangs there day after day either inviting or commanding all who lay eyes on it to "meditate this." Meditate what? This towel? This empty chair? This cluttered space? Who knows.

I seem to remember the orgin of the word "meditation" being tied to the rather earthy and ordinary image of a cow in a field chewing its cud, ruminating and reflecting on whatever meaning of life questions a cow puzzles over.

​I like that. Meditating ... chewing.

​It keeps meditation firmly grounded on terra firma. It keeps our ponderings over life's questions from getting stuck in the sky, where a lot of spirituality seems to get stranded.
​Spirituality, it seems to me, is pretty worthless unless it's connected to sod and soil.

A healthy spirituality locates us in the places and spaces in which we live and move and have our being. It positions us alongside a potpouri of people, a mixed bag of situations, and a quagmire of perplexing questions that come with being human. All this and more make up the spiritual stuff we chew on as we try to strike a balance between making sense of our lives and letting go just enough to be captured by the mystery of it all.

Somewhere in all this, God meets us. Sometimes with answers. Often with more questions. Always with compassion. God's grace somehow fills the space of our lives. We chew on this spiritual stuff.

We meditate this.

ABOUT ME

Hi. My name is Gregg. Gregg Taylor.

I'm a pastor. Been that way for 30+ years. United Methodist, if you care to know that kind of thing.

Currently I'm the pastor and communty architect with Houston: reVision , an organization in Houston leveraging the power of kinship community to connect kids on the edge with mentors, positive peers, and life changing resources.

For a number of years before joining reVision, I was the pastor of a beautiful community in Houston called Mercy Street.

With my friends Matt Russell and Charles Rotramel, I co-host a weekly podcast called reClaimed: dialogues on justice and kinship . We get to talk to some pretty amazing people.

​I like sports. Music. Writing. Traveling. Conversations that matter. And pizza.

​Most importantly, I'm a husband. Dad. Hopefully a good friend.​

​If you want to know a little more about me, you might ask somone who knows me best. My daughter, for instance.

When my daughter was in kindergarten she was asked to write a biography about her father.

"My Father's Biography," as it's called, now hangs on a wall above my desk. As you can probably figure out as you look at the image above, many of the facts about me are incorrect. For instance, in her version of me, I am 22 years old, I am "1 feet" tall, and weigh only 9 pounds. But that doesn't matter to me.
What matters are four words: "I love my father.' Loving is not about being correct. Loving is about connection. Connection to the one who loves you and to the ones you love.

I suppose I keep "My Father's Biography" in full view as a way of reminding me each day what matters.

To love is to see -- and be seen. Love sees me. Love sees us all. Sometimes, love sees me differently than I see myself, and that's a good thing.

"Love loves what is as it is," a good friend has told me. It's the most powerful force in the universe; it creates the condition for possibility, for hope, for courage, for change, and for … well, more love.

Love bears witness to our biographies, the stories of our lives. And in bearing witness to each other’s stories, love beholds and holds us in such a way that lets us know our lives count.

And I suppose I keep my daughter's little piece in full view as a way to remind me of the great commandment to love one another and to love myself as Jesus loves.

So, maybe the most important thing to know "about me" is I stumble around while trying to live into that.​​​