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Tuesday, April 07th, 2015 | Author:

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I met him once, briefly.

“Sit, with the opportunity to listen to one of the ‘saints in the land’ speak… this morning,” were the chaplain’s closing remarks of introduction before Brennan took the stage.

“In the words of Francis of Assisi as he met brother Dominique on the road to Umbria: ‘Hi,'” he began in a slow, measured voice with a grin.

The crowd exhaled in full laughter, their air having been held in their lungs a little too seriously during the astounding and gracious introduction about him was given.

Brennan Manning, christian author and speaker, was in his 70’s and his light blue eyes had already gone blind. His friend and traveling companion had to lead him up the carpeted stairs of the stage to the podium from which he would address our sleepy-eyed college-student selves. It was a Wednesday in early January, 2010.

It was the first chapel session that I had attended at my christian college since being back from my year studying abroad. I didn’t know that Brennan Manning, author of The Ragamuffin Gospel and grace-touter extraordinaire was to be the speaker.

But he was. As soon as our Chaplain began introducing him, my heart and ears opened.

I’d first encountered Brennan’s name and face when I was about 11 or 12 years old.

I was at the Christian book store with my mom, and a book, The Ragamuffin Gospel, caught my eye as it stared up at me from a “15% off” table in the center aisle. I picked up the book, and flipped it over to find a picture of Brennan looking back at me. He had wrinkled skin and white hair, and the short bio said that he lived in New Orleans.

I was impressed that a straight-laced looking, older Christian author lived in a place I only knew of for it’s debauchery on Mardi Gras.

When I first heard the news of Hurricane Katrina hitting the city in August 2005, I immediately thought of him and prayed for him and any family he may have there. I had not thought of him or his book at all since seeing that copy of the book several years before, but somehow, the information had stuck: There was a ragamuffin christian who lived in New Orleans. May God have mercy.

When I was in my early college years, I had been fully entrapped in the cycle of abuse and lies that my story unfortunately holds. Dying on the inside, feeling like I was never, never good enough to get out of the cycle, I found Brennan’s Ragamuffin Gospel again, and read it. Consumed it. I didn’t understand grace all of the way yet, but I knew, I knew I needed it.

And as I sat in the auditorium of my christian college, and as Brennan began to speak his famous message of grace, I was ready. I was familiar with grace now. I had realized that the grace of God on the hurting, the dirty, the trapped, the grieving, the sinning, the I-want-to-be-different-than-I’m-able-to-be’s was the only thing keeping me afloat. And Brennan’s words drenched me that morning.

I went up to him afterward, tears streaming down my face and urgency in my shaking voice as I spoke to him.

I don’t even know what I said to him, aside from “thank you, thank you so much for your message of grace today and in life.”

But I do remember that as he faced me, he took both of my arms, and clasped them right about at the elbow, holding our forearms parallel to one another’s as we spoke. He looked me in the eyes, though he could not see and his blue eyes were cloudy. They began to fill with tears in our short interaction. He thanked me, I thanked him, and we parted ways.

I didn’t think of Brennan the person (though I did use his books often) much for the next few years, until almost exactly 3 years later, when my life imploded, and the shrapnel of shame and pain went flying, lodging into anyone nearby.

About a week into the aftermath of that time in my life, in hours of searching through the book store for something to distract or help, I found it: Brennan’s memoir. It hadn’t been finished yet at the point I had met him, but I knew, this would be the book of the season.

The book is titled: All is Grace.

The reason Brennan knew grace so intimately is that he was such a “ragamuffin” (of his own naming). Ragamuffin meaning, one whose only prayer could be “God grant mercy on my soul, a sinner.”

In the beginning of the book, he writes this: “Warning: Mine has been anything but a straight shot, more like a crooked path filled with thorns and crows and vodka. Prone to wander? You bet. I’ve been a priest, then an ex-priest. Husband, then ex-husband. Amazed crowds one night and lied to friends the next. Drunk for years, sober for a reason, then drunk again. I’ve been John the beloved, Peter the coward, and Thomas the doubter all before the waitress brought the check.”

In his ruthless honesty about pain, about grief, about short-comings and sins, and shameful things, Brennan walked me through his life, and I found light in the broken places.

In a poem by  Leonard Cohen, it’s written: “There is a crack in everything. // That’s how the light gets in.” That’s what I found in those pages — a testament that God loved my cracked self, and that he could pour light and grace into me, and hopefully, maybe one day, out of me as well.

Brennan’s honesty of his story was a tiny shimmer of light in a very dark season.  I took my time over several months to read through the book. But I was finally finishing it on my way back from a trip to Israel in April 2013 when I heard the news — Brennan had passed away. I sat on the plane and cried a few silent tears. Tears for a man who was broken, who failed often, and who God used in huge ways to tell the world about the message of grace and love.

To this day, Brennan is one of the few Christian leaders who I would wholeheartedly recommend because of his ruthless honesty about who he has been, who God is, and that when you match those two up, the only conclusion is this: All is Grace.

——- ——— ——-

There’s a movie that’s about to be made about Brennan and his life which I’m really excited to recommend. It’s called “Brennan.” You can keep your eyes out for it to watch it, but more than that, there’s the unique opportunity to help it get created.

The movie is being made by the same folks that created the film “Ragamuffin” a couple years ago about Rich Mullins’ life (which was, obviously, one of the lives touched by Brennan Manning’s message of grace for the outcasts of the world). If you know me, you know I sort of despise christian movies, but I’m really, really, really looking forward to this one. They will execute it well, and it’s a story well-worth telling and knowing.

 ——- ——— ——-

Lastly, this is Brennan’s “A Word Before” note at the beginning of his memoir:

All Is Grace was written in a certain frame of mind — that of a ragamuffin.

Therefore,

This book is by the one who thought he’d

be farther along by now, but he’s not.

It is by the inmate who promised the parole

board he’d be good, but he wasn’t.

It is by the dim-eyed who showed the path

to others but kept losing his way.

It is by the wet-brained who believed if a

little wine is good for the stomach,

then a lot is great.

It is by the liar, tramp, and thief; otherwise

known as the priest, speaker, and author.

It is by the disciple whose cheese slid

off his cracker so many times

he said “to hell with cheese ’n’ crackers.”

It is by the young at heart but old

of bone who is led these

days in a way he’d rather not go.

But,

This book is also for the gentle ones

who’ve lived among wolves.

It is for those who’ve broken free of collar

to romp in fields of love and marriage and divorce.

It is for those who mourn, who’ve been

 mourning most of their lives,

yet they hang on to shall be comforted.

It is for those who’ve dreamed of entertaining angels

but found instead a few friends of great price.

It is for the younger and elder prodigals

who’ve come to their senses

again, and again, and again, and again.

It is for those who strain at pious piffle

because they’ve been swallowed by Mercy itself.

This book is for myself and those who have been around

the block enough times that we dare to whisper

the ragamuffin’s rumor —

all is grace.


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Jo O’Hanlon is an adventurer and storyteller. She tries to be honest about the ugly and hard parts of life, and the beautiful parts too. This blog is one of the places she shares her thoughts and stories.

Other places are

instagram: @jrolicious         twitter: @jrohanlon

storyofjoblog@gmail.com
Tuesday, February 04th, 2014 | Author:

Warning: Explicit Language

My favorite person I follow on twitter is a really funny guy named Dan Kennedy. Some of the less funny, more meaningful things I’ve learned from following him on twitter is the fact that he’s sober and that he goes to “anonymous” meetings.

It seems like more and more people who I like and respect in the public light are jumping on the sobriety bandwagon.

My favorite comedian: John Mulaney

My favorite FRIENDS actor: Matthew Perry

One of my favorite hunky actors: Gerard Butler

Both of my favorite rappers: Eminem and Macklemore

and many others.

The thing is, I don’t know that sobriety is really the trend as much as addiction is. Especially for those creative types who make a living in the flame of fame. I can’t imagine the stress and loneliness associated with a life like that. It’s my guess, looking at every drunk author whose classics are praised, that these creative men and women are naturally prone to be driven to addictions more than some others may be. Couple that with successes and failures on a massive scale with the world watching, and addiction is a beast hard to overcome.

I think Macklemore paints the picture really well in his song “starting over”:

Those 3 plus years, I was so proud of

And I threw ‘em all away for 2 Styrofoam cups

The irony, everyone will think that he lied to me

Made my sobriety so public, there’s no f*ckin’ privacy

If I don’t talk about it then I carry a date

08-10-08, but now it’s been changed

and every wanna put me in some box as a saint that I never was,

it’s the false prophet that never came

And will they think that everything that I’ve written has all been fake

Or will I just take my slip to the grave?//

But I’d rather live telling the truth and be judged for my mistakes

Than falsely held up, given props, loved and praised

I guess I gotta get this on the page//

Feeling sick and helpless, lost the compass where self is

I know what I gotta do and I can’t help it

One day at a time is what they tell us

Now I gotta find a way to tell them//

I’m just a flawed man, man I f*cked up up

Like so many others I just never thought I would

I never thought I would, didn’t pick up the book

Doin’ it by myself, didn’t turn out that good

If I can be an example of getting sober

Then I can be an example of starting over

I hate that that’s the case: that there is trauma and shame in admitting a relapse. But there is. Doing this as a public figure… I can’t even imagine.

I hate it because you get incredible, phenomenally talented people in this world who are plagued by addiction, and then they hit rock bottom, and get clean, but somewhere along the way they relapse, and then they don’t tell anyone, and then they’re found young and dead, alone in their NYC apartment.

The death of Philip Seymour Hoffman is not the first of its kind.

But it’s not just talented, creative types that die from addiction. It’s everyday Joe’s too. And while the world mourns the death of the famous, and while some families may mourn the death of their everyday-Joe brother, the thing is — our culture is not helpful.

We suck at putting away judgment and giving help when it’s most needed.

“I’m just a flawed man, man I f*cked up, like so many others I just never thought I would… doin’ it by myself didn’t turn out that good.”  We are all flawed people. We all mess up. But somehow we forget this when we’re reading the tabloids or hearing the gossip.

The thing about addiction is that doing it by yourself never turns out good. Breaking addiction takes help from others, accountability from others, the support of others.

If we are a culture that is so quick to gawk and so slow to extend grace and help, how many more hopeless people, diseased by the cycle of addiction, will die before we change? How many more will live through years of hell when they needed help they were afraid to ask for?

I have no knowledge of the details of Hoffman’s former years of addiction, or circumstances of death. But I know that it has made me think.

That guy on twitter, Dan Kennedy, tweeted these two tweets on Sunday regarding Hoffman’s death:

1: @DanKennedy_NYC Feb 2

f*ck drugs, don’t drink if you shouldn’t, and f*ck drugs. Philip Seymour Hoffman was awesome.

2: @DanKennedy_NYC Feb 2

And so was Jason from my Sunday meeting. And Adam, he was a good guy. And Holloway from downstairs back in 96, miss him more every year.

I read those tweets, and I cried. Literal tears. Because I come from a drug-ridden town. My family has generations of addiction. I was raised in a church where 200 of the 900 people are recovering addicts.

I cried because that’s the truth. These people that die, alone, with drugs coursing through their veins, they are good people. They are people that matter. And it is a tragedy that they’ve died this way.

It’s made me start to ask myself: Am I perpetuating a culture of gawking and judgment, or am I creating one where people are free to admit when they’ve messed up? Am I a safe person to ask for help from?

I know what it is to receive grace. I know I’m just a flawed woman and I’ve f-ed everything up before, too. And knowing grace myself, I want to be someone who can easily extend grace. Who carries no stones with me because I know I have no place to throw them where I shouldn’t have been stoned myself.

Addiction will never be overcome by judgment.

Addicts will never be healed by hatred.

Hope will never be found through secrecy.

I’m with Dan Kennedy on this one. F*ck drugs. Philip Seymour Hoffman was awesome. And so were the others…

Let’s be a culture that says both “f*ck drugs” and “you’re awesome. let’s get you some help.”

No shame attached: just grace, truth, and hope.

Let us support people in getting sober. Let us support people in starting over.

Joanna O’Hanlon is an adventurer and story-teller. She tries to be honest about the ugly and hard parts of life, and the beautiful parts too. This blog is one of the places she shares her thoughts and stories.  Other places are

instagram: jrolicious       twitter: jrohanlon

storyofjoblog@gmail.com