i am not

There have been a few times where the political and social landscape in our country, and the world as a whole, has shocked me.

But this week has left me speechless. Literally.

All the pro-life/pro-choice battles and decisions happening in New York

Over 800,000 people without work for over a month because of something they have no control over.

Partisan politics

Left

Right

Hate

divisive language

“Poor people never did anything for us.”

People having no choice but to flee violence in their home countries

And all of it breaks. my. heart.

I think of this crisis and what the government should do. And as Americans, with our free speech, we have a lot of ideas.

The Right tells us to build a wall, blame the Democrats for not agreeing to Trump’s demands, the Fake News Media is dividing us, we shouldn’t trust them.

The Left tells us to just open the government again, no wall, impeach Trump.

Everyone seems to fall somewhere along those lines, because our system of government, while closely hemmed in with laws and documents, was written by imperfect people, who couldn’t imagine what our world looks like today, and is being carried out by imperfect people who are trying, from their own beliefs and experiences, to interpret it. And, because we all come at it with different experiences and slightly different beliefs, we get hundreds of ways to interpret and enforce the law in today’s day and age.

And I become instantly overwhelmed.

That’s why I started writing this, because I was overwhelmed: both sides are shouting, both sides are so sure that they’re right, and it’s a constant barrage on social media, magazines, the news.

I heard a cable news anchor say: “If the rest of the world is backing it, it has to be bad for US.”

It reminded me of this John Green quote: “…when discussing refugees, I often hear “Well, it’s not OUR problem”, or “We have to take care of OUR people.” But we are one species sharing one, profoundly, interconnected world, and humans, all humans, are OUR people. And when the oppressed and marginalized die because they are oppressed and marginalized, the powerful are at fault.”

But then, a moment of silence comes.

I hear the Lord whispering to my tired heart.

And I think of this crisis and what the church should do.

²⁸ One of the teachers of the law came and heard them debating. Noticing that Jesus had given them a good answer, he asked him, “Of all the commandments, which is the most important?” ²⁹ “The most important one,” answered Jesus, “is this: ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. ³⁰ Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’³¹ The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.” Mark 12:28-31

“Look to the Lord and seek His strength always.” 1 Chronicles 16:11

“Which Jesus do you follow? Which Jesus do you serve? If Ephesians says to imitate Christ, why do we look so much like the world? ‘Cause my Jesus bled and died, He spent His time with thieves and the least of these, He loved the poor and accosted the comfortable” – Todd Agnew

We serve a Savior who calls us to love our neighbor – no qualifications, no rules, just love. There is no ‘but’ to that statement.

He reminds me that I am a Child of God, a citizen of His kingdom first and foremost, and an American second.

As Children of God, we are called to “Love the Lord your God,” and “Love your neighbor as yourself,” to be living together, in our mutual humanity as Children of God.

We serve a Savior who bids us to come and die, die to our comfort, die to our earthly security and possessions and bids us to follow, living a life surrendered to Him that we might truly live.

I sit here in the midst of this, wondering what to do. I feel so helpless in the face of so much hate, so much anger, so much despair, so much hurt.

And God, again whispers to me in the quiet evening: I AM. 

I feel so helpless, so brokenhearted.

I AM. 

And I’m reminded of the title of a Louie Giglio book that I read in college:

i am not but i know I AM. 

That’s no small potatoes.

So, I fall to my knees in prayer – I call out to the One who created the entirety of the universe. I call out to the One who breathed life into dust. I call out to the One all-knowing. I call out to the One who is ever present. I call out to the One who sees each person because He knit them together and created them with a purpose long before they came to be. I call out to the One who rules and reigns over all creation, holy and blameless.

But that’s not where it ends.

Yes, we must pray. But then we must get off our knees and start moving.

We do not sit in the ashes, but we rise to action, loving God by loving our neighbors, loving the least of these.

The least of these: the illegal immigrants that are going to ‘steal our jobs,’ the refugees who ‘have terrorists living among them,’ the children separated from their parents at the border, your transgender coworker, your Muslim neighbor, your friend with an addiction.

May we be in the business of tearing down walls, both literal and metaphorical, and building more bridges.

To love the people who can’t do anything for us.

Father,

Strengthen our sight to see beyond our doorstep, to open our eyes to the things we can’t or don’t want to see. Give us the strength to never look away. Open the eyes of our heart, Lord.

Be Thou our vision.

Put our minds to the work of being open, our ears to the work of listening, our arms to the work of embracing.

Put our hands and feet to the work of justice. To the work of tearing down our kingdoms and empires and building up Yours. To the work of rejoicing with those who rejoice and mourning with those who mourn. To the work of compassion, choosing to imagine others complexly, fully, as broken children of God just as we are. To the work of loving as You love and forgiving as You forgive, unconditionally.

Rend our hearts, Lord. Break them for what breaks Yours.

In the end, I don’t know where to go from here. I don’t know the answer and I won’t pretend that I do. I sit in these ashes, in this pile of brokenness God has brought me to, and though He answers, there is still unknown ahead.

But in this era of uncertainty, Lord, You are still I AM.

Use us, that Your will may be done on Earth as it is in heaven.

 

 

 

 

 

 

on reading a new book

Today, I received a new book. For my birthday in June, my grandmother pre-ordered me a copy of Hank Green’s first novel, An Absolutely Remarkable Thing. It arrived at her house on Tuesday, and was entrusted to the safekeeping of my mom, who came to visit today and dropped it off. I have been anxiously awaiting the release of this book for months; Hank and his brother John have made a significant impact on my life as a human being and a reader, through John’s books, through Vlogbrothers, CrashCourse, their podcast, and so much more.

So, I shut the door, saying goodbye to my mom, and ripped open the package. The first thing I did was smell it, and oh boy did it have that new book smell that I lovvvvee. I squealed over the cover, the pages, the illustrations, the autograph on the inside cover, with corresponding Hanklerfish.

I have always loved to read, and as a reader, I have encountered my fair share of new books. I can remember coming back from the library with 10 books, instantly beginning to read the moment I got in the car. I can remember being on the front porch, sitting anxiously and waiting for the postman to deliver the next installment in the Harry Potter series. Upon their arrival, I would run inside, rip the book out, and hide away in my room, needing, craving to know what was going to happen, not leaving until several hours later, hungry and carrying a tearstained book.

So there’s that part of me that wants nothing more than to sit and do nothing and speak to no one until I have finished reading this book, even if it takes me until 4 AM to do so. I keep stealing glances at it as I write this, marveling at the physical presence, after all the waiting and anticipation, and wanting nothing more than to just dive into it.

But the book sits beside me on the couch as I write, unopened, the contents of its pages still a mystery to me. It remains unopened because there is a part of me that doesn’t want to open the book, knowing that I only have this one shot to experience the story for the first time.  Knowing me, I’ll reread it numerous times of the coming years, but there’s something special about this first time, about not knowing what the next page holds until your eyes cross it. It’s wanting to devour it all in one sitting and also wanting to savor each word, each emotion and feeling that it evokes in me, knowing that I’ll never read these words the same again.

There are books that I have read and re-read more times than I can count, the words seeming to be almost an old, cozy, familiar blanket. But whenever I am reading those books, the thought always crosses my head – I wish I could read this again for the first time; temporarily forgetting the plot twists and turns, which have lost all sense of surprise and shock as I now quote them by heart on my 16th time through. Temporarily forgetting character’s deaths, to re-experience the profound sense of loss that has been lost through multiple readings of it.

So, An Absolutely Remarkable Thing will sit unopened for the time being; not because I’m not anxious to read it but because I want to savor this feeling of anticipation, the lovely sensation of not knowing what adventures this book will take me on, as I eventually give in and slip the dust cover off and jump in.

one year.

one year. 365 days.

One year ago, God closed a door, a door which I was so sure was open for me to walk through. A job that wasn’t meant to be. I’ll be honest with you, I knew that, in the end, closing the door was the right choice and I trusted that He had a plan, but it took a long, long time for my heart to catch up. I had invested time, prayer, money, travel, and dreams into this job.

In that season of mourning the loss of a dream, the enemy tried to use that closed door against me; he told me that because of that closed door, I wasn’t suited for any ministry leadership position, and I might as well go apply for some receptionist job somewhere because I wasn’t qualified to lead. My confidence was shot and for the next several weeks, I let the enemy bombard me with those lies, believing them as truth. I avoided all the youth and children’s openings, narrowing my search to office and secretary positions within churches.

That is, up until the moment I got a job offer – a church in California wanted me to come be their new office administrator. We did interviews, and phone calls, and then when the moment came to accept the position, I couldn’t; something in me realized I was running from the calling God had placed on my life all those years ago and was settling for less than what God had for me.

So I said no, and promptly began applying for every ministry job I could. Then, three days after sending out a resume, I got an email from Solid Rock Community Church, saying that the head pastor wanted to meet for an interview. Within a week and a half, I had accepted the job, and within three weeks, I was packed up and moved north to Covington.

Children’s ministry was the last thing I ever expected to do; all of my training in college had been in youth and worship ministry, so it was a steep and difficult learning curve for me. If I’m being honest with you, the first day at work, I went in the parking lot and cried because I didn’t think I could do it. I lived alone, I was trying to find community, but with the way my job was structured and the way that I am wired, making friends didn’t come quickly. I was enjoying it, but underneath it all, I was really frustrated with God.

“This isn’t where I was supposed to be, this isn’t what I’m meant to do, I’m not good enough to do this, why would You bring me here, etc.” These thoughts echoed through my brain night after night after night.

Then, God reminded me of something I had been praying right before He called me into ministry in 2014 – “God, I just want to trust you more; take me deeper.”

He reminded me that this was still Him answering that prayer three years later. The opening lines of Psalm 18:30 kept echoing through my mind – “God’s plan is perfect.” He asked me, just as He had all those years before, as I had sat in that small cabin in Alaska: “Do you trust that My plan is perfect? Do you trust your Father to take care of you?” I tried to argue with Him: “Well, why am I the children’s pastor? Why not something I’m trained in, like youth or worship? That makes more sense! I could do so much better at those!”

And He kept continually asking “Do you trust Me?”

Those first three months were hard. I was alone, in a new city, trying to establish myself in a community that welcomed me in with open arms, but I struggled to find my place within it; I struggled physically, emotionally, and mentally. But, trusting that God brought me here for a reason, and trusting that God would provide, I kept moving forward.

Looking back, I can see that God intentionally kept me away from my areas of strength, the areas I could succeed seemingly easily, and put me in a place where I had to struggle and rely on Him, ultimately all of it coming back to trusting Him. “I put you here for a reason; I took you away from your strengths for a season to show you My power in your weakness, to show you My abilities and knowledge when yours fails.” 

And then, a switch seemed to flip as soon as 2018 came along. I got a roommate. I was asked to speak at youth group, and then began co-leading the girls small group. In helping with youth group, I connected with other leaders, finding friends and mentors. And through helping with youth group, I got involved in leading worship again. I get to fulfill the calling that God has for me in this season while also getting to use some of the gifts He has given me outside of children’s ministry.

If you had told me, the me from a year and a couple days ago, about my current situation, job-wise, physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, she would not have believed you. She would have thought it impossible to find redemption, to find healing, to be working in a whole different area than she imagined.

But two weeks ago, I got to watch God break down barriers in the lives of the students I work with.Last Sunday, I spent the entire day in fellowship with my church community, from church, to events, to youth group. This Sunday, I get to teach my kiddos about how much God loves them. I get to run around and play tag and color pictures with them. This Sunday, I get to help lead worship and I get to pour into the lives of my small group of girls.

And the best part about all this?

I get to do it all again next week.

I am in awe and in love with this season, even if I don’t quite get it, even if I had to walk through a bit of darkness to reach this point.

God is good, even in the unexpected changes and directions He takes. I am thankful for a God who goes before me, a God who is not surprised by where I find myself on this Wednesday evening. I am thankful that His story for my life is better than I can imagine, even if it’s not where I imagined or how I imagined getting there.

“Keep Thou my feet I do not ask to see the distant scene, one step enough for me.”

One year. 365 days.

And all the glory to God.

webale

“Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good; His love endures forever!”

—————————————————————————————————————–

From the beginning, this day was not my day.

I woke up with stabbing pain in my throat, a sign of my first cold of the season.

I was running late, and had to turn around several times to go back to my apartment because I forgot something, or several things.

I showed up to church, not feeling well, agitated and tired, with recruitment stuff in hand; I had been prepping for this Sunday for months, praying over each card I had ready for a prospective volunteer to fill out. I prayed that the Lord would meet our needs, to help us fill the holes in our children’s ministry that desperately needed to be filled. I had made a poster board, prepped cute decorations, designed notecards, typed up job descriptions, even brought out candy to entice people into that initial conversation. I was so excited to see God work and fill those gaps, and I prayed expectantly that He would!

In the end, I still felt crummy, and no one signed up. One person, a college student, home from school for Thanksgiving, offered to help next Sunday before going back to Pullman. And the candy only enticed my kiddos, very aware of what that red bucket contained.

As I packed up those nicely written and designed cards, this whole presentation I had worked so hard on, and seeing it all come to almost naught, I will admit to you that I was discouraged and a little frustrated with God.

This morning, we had a guest choir visit our church- a group called the Watoto Children’s Choir, all the way from Uganda. We got to worship with them, to hear their stories.

One of their songs was called “Webale” or “Thank You.” As I loaded up my car, that song popped back into my head:

“Webale, for everything You’ve done,
Webale, You’ve turned my life around
Webale, I’m going to give my praise to You.”

The Lord met our current need as He sees fit – I prayed for help and He brought it in the form of one college junior, home for one week, and willing to give up her time to serve.  She will fill a hole that I only needed filled for this coming week. He answered my prayer, though not in the way I expected.

Webale, Lord, for You are good.

He allowed me the experience of preparing this presentation, allowed me to share the mission of our children’s ministry with the church, and I have to believe that it was not for nothing, that He has a plan and a purpose for that.

Webale, Lord, for You are good. 

I walked out of there not with the solution I was hoping for – God left us in this spot of tension, and at least for me, that tension causes me to have to surrender the situation more fully to Him, to realize it is a situation beyond my control, because if it was easy, if we had everything we wanted, I would have no problem doing it all by myself, which is not what is needed. And so often I️ find I️ learn more in the tension these moments bring.

Webale, Lord, for You are good.

A man from the choir came up and talked to me after the service, and as he walked away, he looked at me and said “God is going to do great things through this ministry.”

It is so humbling to realize that God can use what we view as our less than ideal circumstances and still do great and mighty things through it; we so often think we have to be perfect or it has to be a perfect situation, geared perfectly for God to be able to work but that is simply not true.

So in the illness, my song is “Webale, Lord, for You are good.”

When I don’t understand the outcome, my song is my song is “Webale, Lord, for You are good.”

When I feel I have nothing left to give, my song is “Webale, Lord, for You are good.”

When I have to surrender my idea of what needs to happen, or needs to be done, in order for God to work, my song is “Webale, Lord, for You are good.”

In the tension, and imperfection, and incomplete, my song is “Webale, Lord, for You are good.”

the real world

they tell you that when you graduate college, you enter the real world.

but what they don’t tell you that entering the real world is half you entering it and half waiting for it to come to you.

yes, there’s the frenzy of job applications, and editing resumes, and scheduling Skype interviews and writing cover letters to present yourself in the best light possible.

but then there’s also the stillness: 6:30 on a Monday night, waiting on the application and resume currently submitted for that job you want, that dream job, but knowing it will be days until you hear from them, if you hear from them at all, because if a couple hundred applications have taught you anything, it’s the possibility of getting radio silence in response.

you rush through college, graduate, and begin to seek your place in the world, ready and waiting on the edge of the precipice of adulthood, independence, on the edge of the “real world” but not being able to step any farther out as you wait for the world to catch up and provide the necessary next steps.

so much rushing.

and then waiting.

rinse and repeat.

soli Deo gloria

Thank You for Your provision, Lord.

You have brought me to this place and provided yet again, but I must confess that there still resides some fear.

Fear that this might be a mistake.
Fear that I will fail.
Fear that I’m not good enough.

But even as I write this, You speak Truth over my fear.

You tell me that You have intentionally brought me to this place. from the first days of my life, You saw and knew this moment, the twists, and You knew that my path would take me here. It is not by mistake that I find myself here.

You ask me what I think of as failure. What I may view as failure, in itself, is much more than that. If I “fail” then this was not where You would have me to go.

You show me all that I have learned and come to know during this whole process, the growth there has been simply in the “getting there;” there is so much there to be gained and learned from, failure or not.

Failure, You tell me, might sting initially as unexpected things do, but it is You who wants what is best for me, redirecting my path, moving me toward what You would have me work toward, Your perfect plan for my life, where you would have me go or what you would have me do. You remind me of a professor’s wise words to “invest deeply and hold loosely;” to allow this outcome to be what would serve You and bring You glory above all else, and that no matter what ends up happening, I would leave space within the success or the failure for You to work and guide me, not becoming foolish enough to think that I can handle it or navigate it on my own.

You tell me that on my own, I can do nothing. On my own, I am not good enough. You have brought me to this place of humble reliance on Your strength because where You have called me, I cannot do it without You. Everything inside me tells me that the easy thing to do would be to do something safer, and my comfort zone screams for a path that is more tame and something I could control.

You tell me that You created me the way that I am, red hair, bookworm, and introverted as I am so that when You brought me to this place, I’d have no choice but to rely on Your strength and trust in Your provision.

The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.

God’s way is perfect.
The Lord’s promises prove true.
He is a shield for all those who turn to Him for protection.
Psalm 18:30

This verse has been a comfort and solace to me since that first summer 3 years ago when I began to feel that nudge to pursue ministry. May it still be.

soli Deo gloria forever and ever

amen

peter, do you love Me?

Peter is a Biblical character I think we can all relate to at one point or another in our lives. He had a mouth that often worked for Jesus, but sometimes often working against Him.

Simon was called by Jesus and given the name Peter, which meant rock.

We see Jesus tells His disciples, as they walked out to the Mount of Olives, in Matthew 26: “This very night you will all fall away on account of me.”

To which the reply came:
Peter: “Even if all fall away on account of you, I never will!”
Jesus: “Truly I tell you, tonight before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times.”
Peter: “Even if it means death, alongside you, I will never disown you!”

Later, just a few verses away, Peter had fled and found himself in a courtyard.

Servant girl: “You also were with Jesus of Galilee.”
Peter: “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Someone else: “Yeah, you were with Jesus of Nazareth!”
Peter: “I do not know the man!”
Another: “You have to be one of His followers, your accent gives you away.”
Peter: *calls down curses* “I swear to you, I don’t know Him!”
Immediately, he hears a rooster crows. He went outside and wept with anguish.

Peter did the very thing he insisted that he wouldn’t do, He denied His master, and was not even able to use Jesus’ name in his denials.

Later, after Jesus has risen from the dead, He is eating with His disciples along the riverbank, and He turns to Peter.

Peter who has been living with the shame of his denial, it must be at the front of his mind as he sits alongside the river with Jesus and the other disciples. No conversation recorded, the silence interrupted by the crackling of a fire and lapping of the waves as they sit, as he might be trying to come up with something to say to try and redeem himself, but comes up with nothing, nothing but his knowing that Jesus knew Peter would deny Him and He was right and that nothing Peter could say would change that.

Then Jesus asks him a question. Stay with me, my inner Bible-nerd is going to be making an appearance, thanks to an incredible Chuck Smith teaching that brought this to my attention and caused some mild flailing and freaking out on my part because Greek is SO cool.

Jesus: Simon, do you love Me more than these?

The word used for love: agapas, meaning God’s divine, fervent love. Using language similar to language as Peter had in Matthew 26:33, when Peter said even though the other disciples might betray Jesus, Peter would not. Simon, do you love me more than these men sitting around the campfire? You told me that though they might betray me, you never would. Do you love me with a divine, fervent, and all consuming love? 

Peter: Yes Lord, you know I love you

But the word Peter uses for love is not Jesus’ word for love. Peter’s word for love, phileo, means fondness and affection. Lord, you know I am fond of you. 

Jesus: Feed My lambs.

Your calling is not out here fishing; leave your nets, leave your comfort and stability, and follow me. If you love me, feed my lambs. 

Jesus: Simon, do you love Me?

He asks Peter again, and He uses the same word: agapas. Simon, do you love me with an all-consuming, divine and fervent love?

Peter: Yes Lord, You know I love You.

And Peter responds the same as before. Yes Lord, I am fond of You. 

Jesus: Take care of My sheep.

Feed my sheep, be a shepherd, take care of them.

Jesus: Simon, do you love me?

This time, Jesus meets Peter where he’s at; He comes down and uses the word Peter has been using for love; Peter, are you fond of Me?

Peter: Lord, You know all things; You know that I love You.

The verse tells us that Peter was anguished as he said this. He hears the Lord, who has stooped down to Peter’s level, used his word for love and that troubles him: Lord, You know all things; You know that I am fond of You.

Jesus: Feed My sheep.

If you love me, this is My command: feed My lambs, take care of My sheep, and feed My sheep.

There’s something here that I feel like we miss in our translations without seeing the subtle uses of words here, so stick with me.

*Pushes up my glasses and tightens my suspenders* Okay.

When Jesus asks Peter if he agapas Jesus, if he truly, unashamedly, fervently loves Jesus, Peter’s response is tame and he tells the Lord that he is fond of Him.

Peter, known for running his mouth is now being careful with his words.

And honestly, I don’t think he feels he has the right after all he has done.

All those times before when he said that he would never betray Jesus, he would follow Him even unto death. Even by being out there fishing, he’s disregarding Jesus’ command to wait for Him in Galilee. And in the midst of that, there had to be some regret, some shame lingering as these events pass through his mind.

Jesus asks the question three times, just as Peter denied Him three times.

“The Commentary Critical and Explanatory on the Whole Bible” had this to say, and I absolutely loved it:

“But this accomplished, the painful dialogue concludes with a delightful “Feed My sheep”; as if He should say, “Now, Simon, the last speck of the cloud which overhung thee since that night of nights is dispelled: Henceforth thou art to Me and to My work as if no such scene had ever happened.” 

Peter knows what he’s done, as evidenced by feeling like he could only simply say he was fond of Jesus, because saying that he loved Jesus, in the way that Jesus had asked, after all He had done wouldn’t be truthful.

When all we have done can sometimes feel like we have failed, when we feel like we have pushed Jesus aside, when we have denied Him in any multitude of ways in our lives, it feels like we shouldn’t even have the right to say that we love Him, because as Jesus says, “To love Me is to keep my commandments,” and so all we can say is that we’re fond of Jesus because we have sinned and fallen yet again. We come humbly before Him, laid low and convicted, seeing our wrongs, and not even feeling worthy of His love or that we can truly love Him.

But that doesn’t mean that:

A. It in any way/shape/form changes His affections toward us

B. It in any way/shape/form changes how He can and will use us. He tells Peter basically “If you love me, feed my lambs, feed my sheep and take care of them.”

Jesus doesn’t rebuke Peter and say there is no way Peter could ever be used in the kingdom again. The way He posed the three questions directly ties back to the denials – convicting Peter but also in a way, giving Peter a chance for a new start –

“I, even I, am he who blots out your transgressions, for my own sake, and remembers your sins no more. Isaiah 43:25

Jesus has renewed in Peter his calling, has restored him. Peter’s denials are cast away as Jesus asks these questions and he can walk forward in the confidence that comes from the overwhelming grace of Christ.

So, spoiler alert: Peter becomes a big deal in the rest of the New Testament.

That same Saint Peter, who becomes the cornerstone of the church, is also the one who didn’t even feel worthy enough to say that he truly loved Jesus. Who felt that he had screwed up too much to be used, so he went back to his old life, to fishing, to what was comfortable.

But just as Jesus pursued and didn’t give up on Peter, neither does He give up on us.

So many times in my life I have not felt worthy to say that I loved Jesus, because I had screwed up beyond what His grace could cover or what He would want to cover even, that I didn’t deserve to speak to Him and I’ve felt like He should give up on me.

But Jesus has continually pursued me. He has continually sought me out time and time again. He has overflowed His love. He’s teaching me how to receive grace, because even though it is literally a part of my identity (my middle name), to receive God’s grace is something I still don’t quite understand.

Nevertheless, He pursues me with an agape love and because of that, each of my failures and the guilt and shame that comes with it could have ruined me, but each is a chance for a new start, to learn and move forward.

Even if it means turning and reorienting myself away from a failure and toward pursuing His love, to receive it and live it out, for the 25th time already this month.

He divinely, fervently loves us with an all-consuming love. He is merciful, faithful, compassionate to the bitter end, no matter what we may do.

Hallelujah, what a Savior.

 

don’t look away.

During my sophomore year, one of my favorite professors spoke in chapel on the book of Judges. What he said has stayed with me since that day:

“The book of Judges doesn’t want to let you look away. It wants to hold it there, and it wants to hold it up there until it gets awkward and then it gets uncomfortable and it keeps holding it there and says don’t look away. Judges wants to hold this up in your face and say we need to deal with these things. We have to look at this.” ~Allen Jones

Don’t look away.

A few weeks ago, the topic of lament was brought up in my life. I then began to pray:

Lord, daily rend my heart anew, breaking it for what breaks Yours.

I write this post not to condemn, judge, or be angry.

I write this post because my heart is breaking. Lately, my heart is especially aching for refugees. So, I write sit in this heaviness that God has brought upon my heart. This weight was His answer to my prayer. As God confronts me with this brokenness, I don’t know what to do. So I write, as an outpouring of a fire God is lighting within me.

I think about the crisis, and what the government should do.

“A God-honoring civil government defends against and punishes evil. A God-honoring civil government protects the life and property of its citizens. A God-honoring civil government bears the sword and executes wrath.” (Legal Immigrants For America) 

Really? Does our nation protect the life and property of its citizens? Honestly, America has never been a “God-honoring country,” nor is it now. And I don’t think it ever will. As Christians, we tend to judge if our nation is God-honoring our leader’s stance on homosexual marriage and pro-life issues. But perhaps pro-life shouldn’t be simply pro-unborn children. Because when it comes to refugees, well, that’s an immigration issue.

“We make the issue for the refugees immigration… because we don’t have time to think of it any other way. It’s easy to put in a box because if it’s actual people, we have to do something.” ~William Parker

I saw this picture posted on Facebook a few weeks ago. It summarizes most arguments I’ve heard that are anti-refugee – they’re not safe, they could kill us, there’d be one or two in there amidst the innocent women and children who could kill our family and friends. And those are valid and real concerns. But, dear Christians, what should our response be?

We hear cries for safety, comfort, and protection. Did Jesus proclaim these things?

Jesus says in John 16:33″I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

Not “In this world you might have trouble…” or “In this world, you can protect yourself from trouble…” By no means! He tells us that we will have trouble. Jesus goes to the least of these, the outcasts, the lowest class, the broken, ill, hurting, and disregarded and He loves them.

“Which Jesus do you follow? Which Jesus do you serve? If Ephesians says to imitate Christ, why do we look so much like the world? ‘Cause my Jesus bled and died, He spent His time with thieves and the least of these He loved the poor and accosted the comfortable” – Todd Agnew

I weep to see the western church closing her doors because refugees they could be dangerous, because they could hurt us. We are afraid to love them, because they could hurt us.

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.” -CS Lewis

To love anyone is not safe. To recognizing that loving these people as they come in may be dangerous, may not be safe. To love these people is to open ourselves up to wounds, to open ourselves up to the wounds that are imbedded in their story, in their grief, and their pain. To love is to allow our hearts to be broken for them.

Rather than being consumed by what we want or need, we need to be consumed by Christ’s desire for oneness.

We don’t serve a God that’s neat and tidy. We don’t serve a God that is safe.

“Aslan is a lion- the Lion, the great Lion.” “Ooh” said Susan. “I’d thought he was a man. Is he-quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion”…”Safe?” said Mr. Beaver, “Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.” -CS Lewis

We serve a Savior who flipped the world upside down with a message of love and forgiveness. We serve a Savior who loved the poor and accosted the rich. We serve a Savior who welcomed all to the table, all to come partake in the living water and the bread of life. We serve a Savior who spent His time on earth not with the healthy, but the sick and the least of these.

John Green says this:

“…when discussing refugees, I often hear “Well, it’s not OUR problem”, or “We have to take care of OUR people.” But we are one species sharing one, profoundly, interconnected world, and humans, all humans, are OUR people. And when the oppressed and marginalized die because they are oppressed and marginalized, the powerful are at fault.”

As Children of God, we are called to “Love the Lord your God,” and “Love your neighbor as yourself,” to be living together, in our mutual humanity as Children of God.

Jesus doesn’t attach any clarifying statements to this as to who are neighbor is. But over the years, people have asked Him.

My roommate wrote this, a loose translation and modification of Luke 10:25-37:

A well-studied professor of theology stood up with a question to test Jesus: “Teacher, what do I need to do to get eternal life?” He answered, “What’s written in the Bible? How do you interpret it?”

The professor said, “That you love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, strength, and mind– and that you love your neighbor as well as you do yourself.” “Good answer!” said Jesus. “Do it and you’ll live.”

Looking for a loophole, the prof continued, “And just how would you define ‘neighbor’?”

Jesus answered by telling a story. “There was once a man, simply traveling along the road. On the way, robbers attacked him. They took his clothes, beat him up, and went off, leaving him half dead. Luckily, an evangelical Christian preacher took the same road. But when he saw the man struggling to even live, he cut across on the other side, head down, only saying ‘God is good; I’m alive and victorious in Jesus!’

“Then several contemporary Christian music artists showed up. They also avoided the injured man, humming to themselves and saying, ‘if we add a key change after the third verse, people will feel really good about themselves at church!’

“Soon, a family of Syrian refugees traveling this unfamiliar road came upon the suffering man. When they saw his condition, their hearts went out to him. The father rushed to his side, helping him up, while the mother tended to his wounds. They helped the man walk, nearly carrying him to a little inn, and made him comfortable. The little son and daughter held on to his arm and hand the whole way.

“In the morning, the father took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper, saying, ‘Take good care of him. If it costs any more, I will pay it.’ The little daughter held up a copper coin as her offering, too.

“What do you think? Which of the three groups became neighbors to the suffering man? “The ones who treated him kindly,” the theology professor responded. Jesus said, “Go and do the same.”

We serve a Savior who calls us to love our neighbor – no qualifications, no rules, just love. We serve a Savior who bids us to come and die, die to our comfort, die to our earthly security and possessions and bids us to follow, living a life surrendered to Him that we might truly live.

The road He calls us to is narrow, it is rocky; we’ll trip and fall, become bruised and broken, falling to our knees. We’ll be tempted to turn around and flee back to safety, back to the comfort it provides. But He asks us to follow Him, and we keep our eyes forward, fixed on Christ, the Author and Perfecter of our faith, because in the end, it’s not about us, it’s not about our likes, our dislikes, what’s comfortable… it’s not about us, but the glory of God.

We dehumanize these people that we are called to love because it is not easy. We see them as objects to be pitied and feared rather than actual human beings.

Don’t look away.

A refugee from Jordan, 10 year old Aida, when asked what she would want to share with American children her age, she said “We just want to go to school. We just want to have a life.” John Green, who was interviewing her, went on to say: “They just want to have a life, but you can’t have a life when the world doesn’t accept that you’re a person as valuable as any other, when the world treats you as “other” or “less than.”

“It really shouldn’t matter what your political opinion is when we hear stories of refugees desperately trying to get out of their country for fear of their lives. We’re too busy arguing about the danger they represent to us and to our economic system to recognize that these are actual people.” – William Parker

We think we need to protect ourselves, however we define ‘ourselves,’ even if it means treating them, however we define ‘them,’ as less than fully human.

America is a country built on strength, and she recognizes and celebrates her victories; success here is glorified and the narrative of grief is shut down. Her “victorious living” leaves her no room for lament, a pattern seen throughout the history of our country.

We live in a country that sends a message to her citizens and to the world that strength is control and compassion is weakness. And we, her people, have all bought into that in some way, shape or form.

“Compassion is the ultimate manifestation of strength.” – Hank Green

These people are being destroyed – there is no easy way to say it, and it’s hard to hear, because it’s the truth. There is an injustice being done to them, injustice being an abuse of power that doesn’t take away luxuries, but takes away the things that God has given them, their body, their dignity, even their lives.

We view compassion as weak, but it is the most grueling thing we can do. In the midst of someone’s suffering, to get down to their level, to imagine their lives beyond statistics, as complex and rich as ours, and to mourn their losses with them– that’s strength.

I weep to see countries closing their doors to those who have nowhere else to go.

Don’t look away.

Jesus, what do we do with Your tears for these people? Show us how to love like You have loved us, how You love us even when we push You aside, when we curse Your name and run in the other direction, when we slap away Your hand of help, and reject Your compassion.

“Oh my soul, Oh my Jesus, Judas sold you for thirty, I’d have done it for less
Oh my soul, Oh my Savior, Peter denied you three times, I have denied you more

As the nails went in, I was standing right there, As you breathed your last, I shook my head and I cried. 

Oh my God, what have we done
We have destroyed your Son” – King’s Kaleidoscope

In the end, I don’t know where to go from here. I don’t know the answer and I won’t pretend that I do. I sit in these ashes, in this pile of brokenness God has brought me to, faithful in answering my prayer, though leaving me in a wilderness of unknowns.

But in this era of uncertainty, Lord, You are still I AM.

Let our silence and tears The breaking of our hearts, the crippling uncertainty Go from our hearts to your ears.

Create beauty from these ashes we are just discovering are there. Teach us how to move forward.

Strengthen our sight to see beyond our doorstep, to open our eyes to the things we can’t or don’t want to see. Give us the strength to never look away.

Be Thou our vision.

Put our minds to the work of being open, our ears to the work of listening, our arms to the work of embracing.

Put our hands and feet to the work of justice. To the work of tearing down our kingdom and building up Yours. To the work of rejoicing with those who rejoice and mourning with those who mourn. To the work of compassion, choosing to imagine others complexly, fully, as broken children of God just as we are. To the work of loving as You love and forgiving as You forgive, unconditionally.

Because if that’s what it takes for me truly see, if that’s what it takes for me to see Your tears for this broken world, if that’s what it takes for me broken to grow Lord, I beg You, continue to rend my heart.

——————————————————————–

Special thanks to:

-My friend and fellow student William Parker, and his dwellings and comments in chapel on lament helped shape this post. Listen to it here, you won’t regret it: https://soundcloud.com/corbanuniversity/corban-music-student-will-parker

-John and Hank Green of the Vlogbrothers, for their honest and real conversations about the hard things. View John’s videos from refugee camps here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLMs_JcuNozJbjWtEDY68YiVfVTBwc420w

-C.S Lewis for being a boss.

–Allen Jones, for also being a boss. 

-My roommate for serving as reviser and editor, and for listening as I tried to make sense of these jumbled thoughts of mine and allowed me to steal her old blogpost which can be found here: http://katiekampen.blogspot.com/2017/02/defining-neighbor-2017-good-samaritan_1.html

Cause she’s awesome.

Rend My Heart, Lord.

I just got home from a worship conference at Calvin College in Grand Rapids. A lot of my sessions somehow ended up coming to the subject lament, grief and strife. I was surrounded by different cultures and their stories and their struggles, and while my heart was breaking for my own country, it began to break afresh for my international brothers and sisters.

This started out as a song, and then turned into a prayer, or spoken word.

I incorporated several phrases from speakers into this; “Lord, what do we do with your tears?” asked the Pakistani minister, about each country brought together by this conference, each facing a brokenness of their own.

The story of pastor Chineta whose friend left her an encouraging voicemail on her phone one day, saying “All will be well, my friend, all manner of things will be well. Do you hear me? All will be well!” And then the next day, her friend was shot during a worship service in Charleston.

“Rend your heart and not your garments. Return to the LORD your God, for he is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love, and he relents from sending calamity.” Joel 2:13

I had no words, no idea where to go next. These words come from a place of brokenness and confusion, inner torment and strife. I wrestled with these thoughts, pouring out onto paper.

This world is dark friends, but the Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness shall not overcome it.

All will be well. All manner of things will be well.

                                                                                                                                                     

Lord, what do we do with your tears?
What do we do with your tears for those you’ve called your own?

All will be well
All manner of things will be well

What do we do with your tears for the suffering
The suffering down the street and across the world
What do we do with your tears for a nation
Nations torn apart by war and humanity’s selfish desires

All will be well
All manner of things will be well

Shalom, peace be with you but where has that peace gone?
We’ve traded peace for battles, as we fight for that so called victory
But as hard as we fight, those battles will never be won
We try and we try, but what the world calls victory leaves us empty

All will be well
All manner of things will be well

Lord what do we do with your tears for those searching for a home
We shut our doors, we close our eyes, hoping to block out this pain, because ouch, you know, it might hurt us
The world tells us it’s not safe, but safety is not our calling
You call us out upon the waves, you call us to walk in the storm
To open up, let the unknown in and know you are not surprised by it
To love these strangers from a foreign land.

All will be well
All manner of things will be well

Lord, what do we do with Your tears for the suffering church?
Your children, our brothers and sisters in the faith
A hidden faith, born of suffering
As they are tortured, killed, refined by the fire
In secret whispers, their songs of praise rise to heaven, as loud as our choirs
Their voices and actions sing a song of faith
In the midst of their pain, their tears and their aching

All will be well
All manner of things will be well

Lord what do we do with Your tears for the ones
In their own country who feel as if they don’t belong
If we say that all men are created equal, made in the image of our creator
Then why do some people still have to shout to us that their lives matter?

Lord, what do we do with Your tears for the people who don’t know where their next meal will come from,
The people whose brains fight back against them
People scared for their children and scared for their families they don’t know if they’ll be in the country at the end of the day
They’re looked down upon for their clothing, their religion, their skin
Because it’s so much harder to look within and see that we’re not so different, that our blood both runs red.

All will be well
All manner of things will be well

Lord, what do we do with your tears for the hurting and crying people
Our streets covered in the blood and tears of the suffering and the dying
Love trumps hate, hate trumps love, who can even tell
It seems that everyone is keeping score, looking for that one leg up
We have our opinions, we’re right and they’re wrong
We may not be young, but we are scrappy and hungry to reach those goals, let no one stand in our way
We throw hate, we smear lies, we throw mud, and leave them where they lay.

But pick yourselves up by the bootstraps, make America great again
Work harder, work longer, get faster get stronger
We gotta be the best, we have to be the first,
Because why fit in when you were born to stand out?
We build up our walls, put up signs that say “Go away.”
“We are self-reliant, we don’t need you” we shout at the world
Who watch from afar, through our chain-linked, barbed wire fence
We hoot and we holler, “God bless America” and “Down with all those against us!”
Because we think we’re that much better.

All will be well
All manner of things will be well
Right now or in the days to come
In the times near or far away

Rend me a new heart, O God
Rend us a new heart, O God

In this era of uncertainty, You still are I Am.

Let our silence and tears
The breaking of our hearts, the crippling uncertainty
Go from our hearts to your ears

Create beauty from these ashes.

Strengthen our sight to see beyond our doorstep, to open our eyes to the things we can’t or don’t want to see. Give us the strength to never look away.

All will be well
All manner of things will be well

Put our minds to the work of being open, our ears to the work of listening, our arms to the work of embracing.

Put our hands and feet to the work of justice.
Put our hands and feet to the work of tearing down our kingdom and building up Yours.
Put our hands and feet to the work of compassion, choosing to imagine others complexly, fully, as broken children of God just as we are.

Put our hands and feet and our hearts to the work of loving as You love and forgiving as You forgive.
Put our hands and feet to the work of going, even when you lead us to the desert, and to staying there longer than we feel we should, but that You would have us stay.

It’s a scary thing to pray, to say God, please break my heart
Make me vulnerable, make me broken, make me wounded and raw
To teach me to live a life that’s palms up
A life, open and surrendered to You
Because if that’s what it takes for me truly see,
If that’s what it takes for me to see Your tears for this broken world
If that’s what it takes for me broken to grow
Lord, I beg You, rend my heart.

All will be well
All manner of things will be well

searching and holding fast

Late night conversations with God.

Apparently He had a lot to say to me tonight, so I just shut up and wrote.

I’m in a season of struggle and strife.
Here’s where I’m at, and here’s what God is teaching me.

……………………………………………..

Where are You in all of this?

God, show me Your hand!

Which way am I missing? Where do I go?

I want some relief, I just want to know.

My child, don’t you know me? Don’t you know who I AM?

I’ll guide you through the storm, just hold onto my hand.

But God where’s the exit? There’s no end in sight.

We keep on pressing on through this endless night!

The waves crash at my feet, trying to pull me down

Oh God, I think I’ll drown.

Don’t look at the waves, look into My eyes!

Keep moving forward, one step at a time.

I see where you are, where you’ve been, your entire history

And I’ll spoil the ending, no defeat, but victory.

Nothing of your efforts, no nothing you can do

By My strength alone will you make it through.

My love, give me these lies you still believe

Give Me your heart, broken on your sleeve.

All this weight you attempt to carry alone,

I came to relieve you, to make it my own.

Give me Your fears, throw them into My hand

Free of your burdens, you’re now free to stand.

So don’t give up hope, stand firm and hold fast

For this storm, My love, is not going to last.