words of frustration and whispers of grace

he's 72 and he's homeless. he's a legal citizen, but his green card got stolen and so we're waiting for a new one to come in the mail. until it does, he is without id and without id, you're kind of stuck. he's also an alcoholic. and when he drinks he gets depressed and suicidal and rambles on and on about his daughter who has passed away and his wife who has also passed. he asks why he is left and why he is in his position. he blames himself. he talks about his past, but does not blame it, he simply states the facts. and when he gets sober, he's gentle and kind. but today, the social worker at the hospital where i spent 7.5 hours trying to get him admitted today looked at me and told me that he was hopeless. that his constant alcohol problem and the related health problems all equal up to him never having a chance. she had decided to write him off. the social worker's tone today reminded me of that of ebenezer scrooge in a christmas carol--when he harshly criticizes the men taking up a collection from the poor. after retorting harshly that his taxes paid for poor houses and prison's, the charity collectors comment that the services for the poor are so terrible that they would rather die than utilize them, scrooge replies "then they had better do it and reduce the surplus population!"

you see, there was a terrible outcry in the nation when universal healthcare was suggested. the government has no right to pick and choose who lives or what treatment people get! rumors of death panels, decreased healthcare options and a general downgrade to a lower standard were posed as terrible outcomes of this possible system. and while i do not know if these things would happen, i think we miss a terrible point when defending our "right" to healthcare. the current system already picks and chooses who lives and who dies. who deserves a chance, and who should just be discharged to the streets to defend for themselves.

but i have digressed into yet another fit of frustration. i came home in a mood. and as i was discussing with a housemate this "social worker" who caused my furry i lamented on how anyone could just write someone off. i proclaimed loudly that i may be naive, but i would rather be naive than bitter and that no person--no matter how long they have been an alcoholic--deserves the lack of grace and the lack of encouragement that she was offering. "everyone deserves a second or third or millionth chance!" i indignantly declared. "i just know one thing! i pray to God that i am never like that social worker!"

and then it hit me. i was just like that pharisee in luke 18--the one who loudly thanks God that he is not like the sinners he sees around him. our tendency is to swing the other way, and thank God that we are not like the pharisee. the point is they are both wrong. and as i stood in my indignant, self-righteous state i forgot one thing. that she deserves as much grace as my client.

i think that injustice and ungrace frustrates God as much (so...probably more) than it frustrates me. i'm sure He looks down on our systems (capitalist, communist, socialist--all systems of exploitation) and says "how do they not get it?". He sent Christ to die that so we may extend grace. to the homeless alcoholic and the bitter social worker alike. as Christians, it is our job to always extend grace. for God always extends grace to us.

wandering angels

when i walked into his hospital room in the psychiatric ward i felt a wave of relief--and as he turned around a huge smile spread across his face, and joy filled my heart as he exclaimed in his soft spanish accent "ee-lees-a-bet! i was so worried about you!" i wanted to hug him. but all i could do was smile my biggest smile and exclaim "i'm SO glad we found you!"

i have been working with this soft-spoken veteran since my first day at my new job, until he disappeared earlier this week. we've been looking for him since monday, and finally yesterday my co-worker and i called the hospitals in a last ditch attempt to make contact with him to let him know that his housing application got approved and he can move into his new apartment. they told us at one of the local hospitals that someone with the general description of our client and the same name was admitted over the weekend, but he was 10 years younger. i went to check on him today, but after my morning--which was filled with a client (and his mom--for real) yelling at me, another client deciding to strip down and run around a park, and a woman who was convinced i missed our appointment (that i had no idea we had made) i was 100% sure that this would turn out badly as well.

but it didn't, and when our dear gentleman gave me his grin, i knew why i had been so excited about this job.

these past three weeks i have probably experienced the best and the worst that street outreach has to offer. but such love fills my heart for every one of these people that i can't imagine doing anything else. and even on the rough days a client will say something brilliant or hilarious that will brighten my day. as i sit and listen i realize that these men and women who have been disregarded, ignored or pushed to the streets by various illnesses, stigmas or people have so much to offer if i will just sit down and take the time to listen.

and today as A smiled up at me from his hospital bed the only thing i could think of was this verse in hebrews, and how today A was such an angel to me.

keep on loving one another as brothers and sisters. do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it. continue to remember those in prison as if you were together with them in prison, and those who are mistreated as if you yourselves were suffering.
(hebrews 13:1-3)

and even though today was really, really hard, that smile reminded me that i am the luckiest person on this whole earth. because i get to sit in the company of angels that so many people disregard.

whirlybird butterflies

"this is for you," he said, thrusting the flower into my face. "be careful," he said, "it's fragile. do you know what it's called?"

"no..." i replied, looking up cautiously from my book into the clear, sad eyes of the man who had awkwardly approached me at the bus stop.

"it's called a whirlybird butterfly flower. it's for you. and you can keep it, but i am homeless and it would be nice if you could spare a dollar..." he trailed off a bit, as if he was ashamed to be asking.

"i just so happen to have a dollar," i said. i stood up to rummage in my bottomless purse. but i paused, stuck out my hand and said "i'm elisabeth."

he kind of looked at my hand for a second, and then he looked at me and back at my hand, as if he was confused. he leaned in a little bit and took my hand, "michael."

as a fished for my wallet, michael leaned in a little bit more and handed me another flower, "this," he began, i looked up to meet his eyes, and he looked away shyly, "this one is for your name."

i found my wallet, and as i pulled it out and handed him the dollar i had in my wallet i made some awkward conversation, not sure if i was helping put him at ease or making him more uncomfortable, "are you down here often, michael?"

he shifted, "well, i'm homeless, so..."

"oh, yeah, i mean, do you hang out around the downtown area?"

"yeah, i sleep on the mall and stuff...where are you from?"

"i live in dc," i said, differentiating myself from the billions of tourists who were wandering around chinatown.

"oh, really? what do you do?" he asked.

"i'm unemployed..."

michael for the first time looked into my eyes and thrust the dollar back into my hand. "you need this, too!" he said.

"oh, no, you can have it, you gave me a flower." i said, and then went on to weakly, and in retrospect, unnecessarily, explain that my husband had a job, and i was lucky in that respect.

"well, i hope you like your flowers." michael replied, and he walked away.

he left me with two flowers and a whole lot to think about. as luke and i move closer and closer into solidarity with the poor and marginalized, this situation led me to think about what it really looks like to stand in solidarity with the poor. i will never be poor. i will always have a loving family to return to, who is able to support me in any way they possibly can. this is one of the blessings i have been given. but i was thinking about what ways i can and should identify with the poor, and what things will always separate me from them. these separations are things i will need to acknowledge and accept before we can truly thrive in the communities where God has and will lead us. i would be kidding myself and our current and future neighbors if i acted as if we were monetary equals. it would be, in some ways, making light of their situation. instead, i need to embrace my background, my privilege and my monetary wealth, and willingly lay it down at the feet of Christ in order to go fully to those with whom i wish to serve.

i was thinking about how absurd this all is, and how i'm not sure what it all looks like. i was thinking about what distinctions are necessary for me to make and which ones are not. for example, was it necessary that i tell michael that my husband had a job? it's true, i am not homeless because luke has an amazing job. that is a point of separation. but did that help or hurt our communication? and i'm not sure.

all of this thinking led me to Jesus (rightly so) and how He came down to us to identify with us. as craig puts it "Jesus moved from the most exclusive gated community in the universe to go to the worst ghetto in the world..." He was fully God and fully man, and yet the fact that He was fully God did not separate Him from us. Jesus spent His time holding children, touching lepers, hanging out with prostitutes and healing every kind of brokenness. He did not shy away from confronting sin or demons. He always did what was right. He loved people, and He did not let the fact that He was God get in the way. He identified with people in ways that they didn't know was possible. He spoke to their heart issues with words that they had never before heard.

i wonder what my own interaction with michael looked like to Jesus? i've thought through our interaction several times. how to michael my name was just as important to him as a dollar. how confused he looked when i held out my hand to him. i wonder how long it has been since someone had shaken his hand or asked him for his name. how long it had been since someone had looked at him like he wasn't invisible. and then if i ruined our own fragile interactions by pointing out that i am monetarily secure, and he is not.

i know that i am not nor will i ever be Jesus. but i want Jesus to love people through me. i have a long way to go before i am poured out enough to let Jesus fill me and overflow me with His perfect love. but one fragile whirlybird butterfly flower at a time, He is showing me what it is like to be human and to identify with and love the humans around me.

in addition, it does snow in parts of africa.

every year i hear the song "do they know it's christmas" and every year i get a little bit more agitated with its existence.

i know, i know. some of you will cry out in protest "but it was written to give starving children in the ethiopian famine of 1984 food!" and that's true. and i think that is a great thing.

however, every time i hear this song the fact that it was written for victims of severe poverty is lost. especially when i hear bono belt out the line "tonight thank God it's them instead of you." (no worries, for all of you who know me and my frustrations with bono, i did not like this line before i knew it was he who sang it...).

i don't know how to put my frustration with this song into words. but it definitely has something to do with how it misses the entire point of christmas. how it misses the entire point of giving thanks. and how it misrepresents what is going on in the lives of those living in poverty.

they are right. if christmas is about gifts and about snow it is possible that those living in the 1984 famine of ethiopia might not have known that it was christmas that year. but lucky for all of us, that is not what christmas is about. in fact, christmas is more for the poor, the hungry and the homeless. while Jesus came down to save all of us, He did it in the form of a small, helpless, Palestinian refugee, born to an unwed mother and a carpenter father. as scott bessenecker eloquently states in his book new friars:

...the very first statement Jesus ever voiced about his concern for the poor, oppressed and marginalized people was when he cried out as one of them--eyes shut tight, mouth open wide, wailing, kicking, shaking and dripping with blood and amniotic fluid. it was one of the most profound acts of solidarity with the poor he could make. he cast his lot not with the world's emperors or with the rich and powerful but with the world's demoralized peasants. when God voted with his birth, he voted for the poor. it was the fulfillment of a long-awaited plan for God to live among the people he had made...

you see, the line "thank God it's them instead of you" goes against everything that Jesus' birth was meant to tell us. He came to live among His people, disgusting, rotten and impoverished as we are, rather than watching from a distance, being grateful that He did not have to deal with the problems and messes that we had gotten ourselves into or caused for others.

i'd also like to point out that the line "the greatest gift they'll get this year is life" is a ridiculous line that separates the rock stars from the hungry in ethiopia unnecessarily. the greatest gift that any of us will ever be given is life. not our own lives, but the chance to have our lives enhanced by the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.

__________________________

(if you do not have time to watch the youtube video with the ridiculous 80s hair and clothes, you can read the lyrics here).

greater love...

so the thankful thing has not been quite as successful as i was hoping. yet. today leaving work i was complaining about going to the grocery store. how i hated watching how much money i spend there, and how it bothers me that sometimes i have to go to both shoppers and aldi in order to spend the least amount of money, but still make relatively healthy dinners. i was frustrated because luke was in class and not with me, and that i can't carry anything over 10 pounds so i would have to make multiple trips to bring the groceries up from the car, and have a cart in the grocery stores, when normally we just carry the bags because it gets too crowded in the stores to maneuver well with carts.

i was in a bad mood. and my headache was only getting worse as i pushed my cart into the only open check out lane and started loading my groceries behind a mother and her two daughters.

i could tell that this family was probably not the most well-off family, like most of the families that shop at aldi. as the woman finished scanning the groceries the mom took our her credit card to pay. she scanned the card, and was told to enter a pin, which she couldn't because it was a credit card. they don't take credit cards at aldi. the woman, slightly confused because she didn't speak english well, took out the cash she had in her wallet and began to take things out of her cart. her daughter looked at her mom and smiled and began to help her remove the juice drinks, the ice cream and finally a box of cereal in order to get the total low enough so that the woman could pay with cash. i awkwardly offered to help her pay, but she declined, and i think she took my offer as an offer out of frustration for the long wait rather than a gesture to help. she smiled her thanks, and continued on, her little girls talking and giggling like nothing happened. this was probably a regular occurrence for them.

i debated whether or not to write this story here. i do it not because it reminded me to be thankful for what i have, or to remind you to do the same (we should do that anyway, we should give thanks always, not only when we see the misfortune of others). i tell this story because i haven't been able to get the beautiful face of that little girl out of my head as she searched for something to give to her mom to take out of the cart. and while juice drinks and ice cream are not essential items, that is not a choice that most of us have to make. and it's not a choice that a child should have to help make or watch her mom make.

the thing is that numbers and studies that come out about poverty don't capture something very real that happens so many places. and whether or not that mother is working, or is an illegal immigrant, or any of the other excuses we come up with not to extend a helping hand to those who do not have the luxuries that we have, it isn't that little girl's fault.

i tell this story not so that we think of that family and decide we're happy that is not us. i tell it because it needs to be told, because we need to do something about it. we need to stop looking for excuses not to help and instead look for all possible ways that we can. and not just because it's christmas. and not because we feel guilty. but because we're human and they're human and we have a God who made Himself human so that He could show us how to love others perfectly and without boundaries.

and if anyone had any reason not to, He sure did.

Entitled.

This quote appeared on my gmail page today:

"God help those who do not help themselves."

-Wilson Mizner

I decided that I do not agree with this statement, and here’s why. I think that it implies that we can help ourselves...which I’ve decided I do not agree with for several reasons. The first being that if we believe that some help themselves and others do not, and we (naturally) believe that we are in the former category it automatically places our thoughts above those who do not wish to help themselves.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the situation of poverty lately and I think that poverty is the dependence on others to tell you what you do or do not need. So, for example, if I am walking down the street and I see a community member in need of housing who asks me for money, and I instead offer to take him or her to lunch with me, it is possible that I have just put that person in a situation of poverty.

Sure, they were in need before, but I think they enter poverty when I tell them, no, you do not need money, you need food, and I, being my benevolent self, will therefore decide that you need food and get you some food.

Now, I'm not saying that what I am doing is necessarily wrong. I mean, in all honesty, they do need food...and if they ask me for money to get something to eat and I offer to get them something to eat then it may or may not be the same thing (they may, in fact, be lying to me). But it is taking away that choice that they have when I give them money—in a way it is disempowering them to make a decision.

I also think that there is a theme of entitlement that comes into it as well. On both sides—those who are in immediate need of the basic necessities of life and those who are not.

There are community members who have and those who don't...

Generally, community members who have believe that they are entitled to what they have because they worked hard for it and community members who do not have obviously did not work hard for it, and therefore do not deserve what those who have own.

I've also met community members who do not have who think they are entitled to what those who have own because there is some system in place where they cannot achieve the same level of ownership as those who have acquired (which, in all honesty, is probably true). However, whether this is true or not--the real thing is, I'm not so sure any of us are entitled to anything, whether we worked for it or not. (I know, I know, easy for me to say…I’m unemployed…).

I’m not really sure exactly why I think this yet, but reading the Old Testament and Acts, it seems that, at least those of us who claim Christianity, should be living for the community, not for ourselves. Just think of what it would be like if Jesus acted as entitled as most citizens of the United States who also claim the name of Christianity (myself included). In my opinion, we’d all be in pretty big trouble.

Except here’s the thing: Jesus really was entitled to stay in Heaven, away from us, at the right hand of God...

I don’t really know where all of these thoughts will lead quite yet, but I think it has something to do with being open with everything...but I don't know what that looks like, really...

Some of you may think that I’m aiming at communism.

I don’t really think that’s it. Not communism in general. I think that the Christian community should resemble the basic thoughts of communism, but people aren't perfect (including Christians), and I'm not expecting the community at large to live as a communist society. But I think that if Christians started to live as if all we own belongs to the Lord it would catch on with other Christians, at least. Because it doesn't really work if you have like one family giving everything--when one person gives, there have to be others who will support them.

Though maybe if I just start giving like I am imagining, it would just start happening…

A couple of weeks ago a community member in need of food and housing asked me for some food. All I had in my bag was cookies and a couple of pennies, so I gave him what I had. He asked for more and I got irritated. It's frustrating when a community member in need doesn't accept your charity...but is it upsetting because I couldn't provide for them what they needed or because they didn't accept the charity I wanted to give them?

Because if anything else, it should not be the second.

On a lighthearted note, the next quote that came up was this:

The trouble with a kitten is that when it grows up, it’s always a cat.

-Ogden Nash

Sorry, Anna, but that one I whole-heatedly agree with.

Thoughts?

A poor man's field may produce abundant food,
but injustice sweeps it away.
-Proverbs 13:23

Love is a teacher

Her name is Angela. And she has the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. I passed her on my way out of Target last week, and if I had been a little more with it (meaning not coming off of an overnight shift) I would have thought to ask her to go eat breakfast with me, rather than offering her the small amount of change in my wallet. I asked her what her name is and I reached out my hand, she looked at me with surprise and timidly extended her scarred hand towards mine. It looked as though she had been badly burnt. I thought about her again today as I ran into Target...I wanted to see her again, since my mind was a little bit clearer. I wanted to sit down with her and ask her what her story was. But she wasn't in her spot outside the door. Maybe (hopefully) someone else was treating her to breakfast.

I wonder what it would be like to not be seen. To stand day after day in the same spot and have people walk by in a hurry, pretending to be engrossed in the sidewalk or the sky...to be denied the basic right to exist to others. Isn't it sad that it is hardly even normal to make contact with strangers?

Though I've been making my way through the Old Testament history and proverbs books currently, yesterday I flipped through Isaiah--which is, by far, my favorite book of all time. I especially love the chapters in the 50's--specifically 55 and 58. It is here in beautiful poetry that Isaiah lavishes us with God's love for His people and for the poor. And it is in this chapter where answers are given. Where God proclaims that He will come to His people if they humble themselves and begin to provide for the poor. It is here where the trees of the fields will clap their hands as you go out with joy and are lead forth in peace. Where He comforts His people by providing them with spiritual food and His people care for each other by providing each other with physical food. Here is here, in Isaiah 55 and 58, where I believe God lays out His perfect plan for this world that He created.

As always, I've been thinking about love, and how I want to love people all the time. All people. I want to love the random person who walks down the street with their iPod, too involved in their own world to look up. I want to love the people it's more natural for me to love (but not easy, those should not get confused), like my family and friends, and the poor and down-hearted. I want to love people better...and always. It is my prayer that I would love better....that we all would love better. I want to see a time when true fasting that sets the oppressed free, shares food, clothes the naked and cares for others before outselves comes.

And while love is hard to acheive and it is won by long labor, I pray that we would be working towards it. Will you join me?

...love is a teacher; but one must know how to acquire it,
for it is hard to acquire, it is dearly bought,
it is won slowly by long labor.
For we must love not only occasionally,
for a moment, but forever.
Everyone can love occasionally, even the wicked can.
-Dostoyevsky

the judas in me

every so often while i'm working the overnight shift i hit a point where i get so tired that i cannot keep my eyes open. it's at that point i usually stand up and move around, and sometimes i'll even move the laptop to a high point on a desk or stack it up on some books so that i can stand up and work at the same time. usually it happens between 5:30 and 6:30.

tonight it happened at 3:45.

i haven't had any calls. no wait, i've had one call. a hang-up. what we call a "non-starter". i'm sorry, mr. chester, even though i decided that i would very much like to meet you over tea and discuss classical music, gardening tips and small dogs, not even your voice is getting me through tonight. i am yearning for human contact...

which brings me here. i have a list of things i need to get done tonight. especially if the call volume remains at nil. but for sanity's sake, writing a stream of conscious on this silly blog might be the best thing for me and for the person who relieves me from my shift in the morning.

every night when i'm on my shift i wear a green shirt that matches my eyes and coincidentally the bathroom wall. therefore, when i go into the bathroom for a various number of reasons and look in the mirror parts of me look like they are missing and simply blending in. i wish i was a chameleon. i think it would be pretty amazing.

i've been thinking a lot in my quiet times about how we are always supposed to praise God. i know that i wrote about this before, but it's been such an overwhelming and continuing theme for me i cannot get it off my mind. i really think that God is trying to speak to me...if only i could stay awake long enough to listen. every time it gets quiet in my heart i fall asleep. i read psalm 67 today, and again, it occurs. the only reason God blesses is so that they can praise Him. and they are lead to praise Him before He even blesses. this is so contrary to the way i have seen myself (and many, many others) react. instead of praising God whether or not we feel blessed, we wait for the blessing and then praise God. i know that i have a hard time praising God when i'm tired, sick, frustrated, etc. i want Him to bless me and then i will worship Him. but the more i think about it, the more i truly believe that the blessing is in the praise...

my little sister, Katie, is in Kenya for the summer. i'm exceedingly proud that she is there and i cannot wait for her to come home to tell me lots of stories. in an email today she wrote about how in Kenya the main goal of the church is to win people to Christ and then meet their physical needs. while i think that both are necessary, i think that i usually have them flipped around. while i think in the united states it is harder for us to openly share our faith before we have helped those in need, i wonder if this is backwards...wanting the blessing before the Blesser... shouldn't the goal be to welcome people into praising God first...isn't that the greatest gift of all?

sometimes i think that praying for the needy rather than giving them money is a cop-out. but maybe not praying for them is cheating them out of something far greater than money...

i'm not saying that i think we should stop meeting the needs of those around us. i'm just saying that maybe when the woman was anointing Jesus with the perfume and judas asked about giving the money to the poor, maybe Jesus referred to something much deeper when He said "the poor will always be with you, but you will not always have Me..." maybe Jesus was saying that right now is a beautiful moment. you are together with poor and rich, with those who believe and those who don't, and you are experiencing the ultimate experience of true love and praise...yes, the poor will always be with you*, but praise is the most important thing.

or maybe Jesus wasn't saying that at all.

though another things sticks out to me. i'm a whole lot like judas in this passage. thinking that money could have been used for better things. giving it to the poor to help someone eat...or even live (that stuff was expensive!) but what experiences to i miss out on because i am consumed with things of this world rather than with heavenly things. what experiences to i deny to others because of my savior-complex? i don't save. Jesus alone saves...praise God?

yes, of course! praise God! amen!

unfortunately i think i'm akin to judas in more ways than that...

_______________________

*though i also believe that while Jesus may be reminding us that praise is the most important thing, he's also reminding us of the passage in deuteronomy 15:11 which states "there will always be poor people in the land. therefore i command you to be openhanded toward your brothers and toward the poor and needy in your land...". i do not think it's a coincidence...

All you've got in there is trash, man.

"And I said to him, all you've got in there is trash, man, let it go".

That's what Jeff, a compassionate and passionate outreach worker from DC Central Kitchen's First Helping program told us as he recounted his previous day's encounters with the homeless population on our way to our first stop of the day to take breakfast to the homeless men and women of South Capitol street in SE DC. Jeff had tried to take a man to a mental health and housing program the previous day, but had been unsuccessful because the man had refused to give up his several bags of trash. Jeff was hopeful, though. The man who he was working with used to be completely unreceptive to the idea of mental health care in general. He is finally willing to give it a try, and hopefully soon he will be willing to part with his bags of trash.

I'm learning a lot about the homeless population through my volunteer work with DC Central Kitchen. I never realized that the bags that I often saw men and women who live on the street carrying are often times filled with nothing but trash. In an effort to satisfy the human desire to own something, and have control of something, this population sometimes sorts through garbage cans in order to have some semblance of ownership and control over something around them.

As I sat listening to Jeff's story my first reaction was "How silly! This man has bags of trash that are holding him back from something real. Something better..." But before this thought had finished crossing my mind, God, in His infinite mercy, reminded me how often I hold onto my bags of control, guilt, judgement, cynicism, consumerism...instead of giving them up to Him for something much more real and much, much better.

The last couple of weeks have been really hard on me. I've seen the brokenness of this world in more ways than I care too, and my heart continues to break in sorrow and longing for a new world. This pain inside of me is hard to express, and often I find myself crying out...I'm afraid that my heart is too soft to feel such hurt...but in this I draw away from the people around me, from Luke, from my small group, from God...

This is the situation I found myself in on Monday night, before heading off to pull another 12 hour shift at Polaris. But Luke came home and we headed to small group nonetheless. Needless to say I was not excited to be put into a vulnerable situation when all I wanted to do was remain curled up in a ball by myself unwilling to be touched (yes, contradicting my personality in every way...). I was even more upset when we got there and realized that it was our monthly "Prayer and Praise" small group. Great...just one more possibility to be thrust into sharing what I haven't expressed to anybody yet...

But we opened up with Psalm 13...which spoke directly to my heart. And while my sore throat and cough made it hard to sing, I listened, which was almost better. And when it was time to pray I found myself oddly opening up to these women who I haven't really opened up much to before, and I heard them pray into my situation like I have never heard anybody pray before...

Yesterday I was journaling and I realized that I was feeling, simultaneously, something I haven't felt in a long time. I felt overwhelming sorrow in the situation of the world but at the same time overwhelming peace and joy in God. And I realized how true these words from Psalm 13 are for me right now:

...How long must I wrestle with my thoughts

and every day have sorrow in my heart?...

...But I trust in Your unfailing love;

my heart rejoices in Your salvation.

I will sing to the LORD for He has been good to me.

Sometimes I feel like the only way I can engage with the world is to grasp tightly onto my bags of judgement, guilt, cynicism and control. I pile them up like a wall around my heart, not letting anyone take them away, like they are offering some kind of protection. But God calls us to something else. He asks me to give up these bags of trash that I think are guarding my heart and give them to Him instead. And the protection that He can offer me are walls of unfailing love, walls of salvation and walls of goodness. Not bags, that really offer no protection at all, but walls of strength...

Wild Animals are Scary.

This is my husband, Luke (who also named this post). This morning I took some pictures of him because he was doing some pretty weird, but very cute things. He said that it made him feel like a baby panda.


Lately I've found myself incredibly in touch with the common humanity in all humans. The kind of in touch that makes giving someone money for a pack of cigarettes seem normal, while killing someone because they killed someone seem silly. I think I pinpoint it to Valentine's Day when Luke and I went to the Holocaust Museum. For those of you who haven't yet been there, it is pretty intense. I found myself on the verge of tears throughout the entire thing, only letting them trickle down my face in the Hall of Remembrance at the very end of the tour. How can one group of people dehumanize another group of people so much that the gold fillings in their teeth are seen as being worth more than their life itself?


One thing that I found very interesting is that the term "ghetto" began first in Italy as the name for an island where Jews were required to live, and then during the Holocaust as a place to keep those of Jewish descent before they were taken to concentration camps. It was a place of separation. The term is derived from the Latin term jactare meaning "to throw" or "to cast" (thank you dictionary.com). Basically it was were the "unwanted" in society had to go to live. Is it any coincidence, then, that we call the poor, minority areas of the towns and cities in the United States "the ghetto"? Unfortunately, I don't think so. And I think that it is just one more testament to the racism and classism that exists in our country today. Even Merriam-Webster defines ghetto as "an isolated area; a quarter of a city in which members of a minority group live especially because of social, legal, or economic pressure."

I heard the song "Big Pimpin'" today and I almost threw up.

But I've digressed (sort of). What is it that leads us, as humans, to characterize people into "worth it" or "not worth it", label them as such and then continue on living? I sometimes find myself doing this as I sit in our living room and watch out the window. There is this one extremely angry woman who lives next door and yells at the people who park in the parking lot of her apartment complex. We've been yelled at...I think most people on the block have been yelled at. I wrote her off as a mean woman (well, to be honest, a word a bit harsher...), but as I've been watching her interactions with people, and watching the way she walks around, I've come to realize that maybe there is more to her than I realize. And as I watched her try to start her moped yesterday in order to get around, and watched her try and try again, unable to start it, and as I watched her give up, and, instead slowly walk towards the road, I began to wonder what her story is. And what our stories had in common. Or, almost more importantly, what they could have had in common had any of our circumstances been slightly different.

This started me on a path, I think, of wondering what makes people tick, and what makes people do what they do. Sure, I have been down this path before, but never with such a diverse population around me so many times a day. A lot of times on Metro I will watch the people around me. I look at their facial expressions, I watch how they act, how the interact and what they are doing. And I write stories about them in my head. Not in a judging way, just in a story telling way. About where they are going and what they are thinking. Sometimes their stories are so intense I am moved to tears...

And then I realize that by doing this I am probably diminishing their existence in some way...making them into a greater or more pathetic character than they probably are. It would be better of me to tap them on the shoulder and ask them questions about their lives. Never mind that 75% of Washington, DC is inaccessible due to iPods and Blackberries.

Okay, so maybe I do pass some judgement.

Point being, this. I don't think that it's a mistake that I feel things intensely, or that I am a pretty passionate and compassionate human being. I really think that it is a gift from God that I get angered at injustice, saddened by loneliness , exclusion and seclusion. I think that I'm just misusing this gift by telling stories of people in order to somehow identify with the people around me. Basically, this is a confession. Instead of becoming real friends with the people around me I pretend that I know them by making up stories about them in my head. I've been misusing the gifts that God gave me.

Nevertheless, slowly, but surely, I've been becoming more and more aware of what it means to be human, what it means to be human with others, and what it means that Jesus was (and is) God in the flesh. I'm learning what it means that Jesus loved us so much that He came down on earth and lived with us in the poorest condition God could be...human. Gross.

And I'm learning about compassion. I've been reading Leviticus and Numbers. And while I'll admit that sometimes I let out a huge sigh when it's time for quiet time, it is pretty amazing that before there were all these rules and now there are not. We don't have to sacrifice or wait many days to become clean. Jesus took care of all of that. Here is my favorite example of one law that Jesus took care of:

And the leper's clothes shall be rent, and the hair of his head shall hang loose, and he shall
cover his upper lip and cry, Unclean, unclean!He shall remain unclean as long as the disease is in him; he is unclean; he shall live alone [and] his dwelling shall be outside the camp.
Leviticus 13:45-46 (Amplified)

And a leper came to Him, begging Him on his knees and saying to Him, "If You are willing, You are able to make me clean."
And being moved with pity and sympathy (or, in some versions, compassion), Jesus reached out His hand and touched him, and said to him, "I am willing; be made clean!"
And at once the leprosy [completely] left him and he was made clean [by being healed].
Mark 1:40-42 (Amplified)

It was a huge deal for Jesus to reach out and touch this man. I want to follow Jesus into that. I want my reaction to the gift of feeling that God has given me to be a reaction of action...I definitely have a lot to learn and need a lot of help.

____________________________________________

On a quite different note, I also want my family to be like this after a vacation, only hopefully many more kids:
Yes, I do love Norman Rockwell.


Picture post coming soon.

And just for laughs (but also post appropriate):

It is for freedom.

Last weekend Whitney, Uzma, Luke and I headed down to the Museum of American History and took a look at documents by Abraham Lincoln, including the Emancipation Proclamation. It was pretty amazing. There were several quotes up and around that Abraham Lincoln had said, and I thought this one was a pretty good one:

I have always thought that men should be free; but if any should be slaves it should be first those who desire it for themselves, and secondly those who desire it for others. Whenever [I] hear any one, arguing for slavery I feel a strong impulse to see it tried on him personally.

I don't have a lot of thoughts to put out there right now. Really, I'm just taking a little break from applying to jobs. I've thought a lot about slavery lately, thinking through human trafficking, buying cheap goods and also in myself--what I'm held captive too. I was thinking about why we should really care about slavery and what Biblical reasons there are. Besides slavery being a huge social justice issue I think one reason is that freedom is obviously very important to God. Over and over in the New Testament He uses the images of prisoners and slaves being set free by His love. Obviously when He speaks in the New Testament He's talking of freedom from sin. But I think there is something to be said for the fact that the word freedom is used and the imagery of no longer being slaves is also important. And He wants this freedom for everyone.

Every.Single.Person.

Free from slavery under others and to ourselves.

It is for freedom that Christ has set us free...

These are just a few thoughts. Maybe I'll write some more later. I've been learning a lot lately, about many things, and the opportunities for procrastination are plentiful.

Oh, yeah, they fixed our heat this morning.

You get what you pay for...

Our heat is broken for the second time this winter. We noticed it yesterday morning, and, after fiddling with the thermostat for some time we decided it was time to call in the experts. Some of you may recall the last time that our heat was broken. It took a week for it to get fixed--with Joe (our amazing maintenance man, and friend) coming up, giving it a temporary fix and us waiting patiently for the real fix to come. Finally, one day, the real fix came. Supposedly our thermostat was replaced. While it looked exactly like the old one (with the same paint splatters, etc.) they said they changed it, it was working, and who are we to complain. Until today, when we decided the 5 degree drop in temperature down to 58 degrees warranted some questions. So I wrote a note to them indicating that we had, indeed, turned the thermostat on (something they had asked us repeatedly the last time this ordeal happened) and that our pilot light was also on. On my way up to the main office I ran into Joe and told him that our heat was out again. He called our property manager and told her and she said we already fixed their heat once. Yes, they did. Yes it is broken again. They sent Joe up to look at it and he immediately asked me why they hadn't changed the thermostat. I told him they said they did and he said that most of the time they lie about what they do to save money. He called the property manager again to let her know our pilot light was on and the temperature in our apartment was 58 degrees. She told him to come get the thermometer to check and make sure. Apparently, Joe told me, they don't fix the heater until it gets to a certain temperature in the apartment (Really?--I wanted to ask, how about Mike the Landlord comes and lives in our apartment and then we'll see how cold it has to get before they fix the heat). He brought the thermometer back up. It read 73 degrees. Both Joe and I agreed that even if it wasn't 58 it certainly felt cooler than 73. He left and said he would try to have them come up and feel the temperature in the apartment. I could tell that he was as frustrated as I was at the way our apartment complex was being run. How upset he was that people (not just us) were getting taken advantage of. I could see it in his eyes and in the worry on his face. But he can't do anything...this all happened 3 hours ago. My guess is that Luke and I will have to be much colder before anything gets done.

The whole time the ordeal was happening it was going through my mind you get what you pay for. This is the way I grew up and I am extremely grateful for what I had and where I am today. Many times Luke and I have speculated how lucky we are that we graduated with no student loans, that we have wonderful parents who can and will help us out whenever we need them to. And yet I can't help thinking about how the mentality of you get what you pay for is a distinct luxury of the middle to upper-class population. People who have two options and choose the cheaper should expect cheap quality. But what about the people who can't afford to have two options? The people who live in NorthWood Gardens because that's what's affordable, not because they want to save money in order to spend it elsewhere. The people who can't afford to "go green" by shopping at the ever-so-trendy Whole Foods. The people who eat at McDonald's every day because they can eat for $2.00. Or who eat Ramen Noodles because they are $1.75 for a 12-pack. Health food, unfortunately, is also for those who have money.

It's ironic, Luke speculated the other day after another frustrating trip to the grocery store, that even though money doesn't grow on trees, fruit does--and yet we are still forced to choose between fruit and vegetables because we can't afford both...and Luke probably makes more money than most of the people we know from our complex.

Joe was telling me today about his mother trying to figure out her taxes. They apparently were done wrong, and now she's having a lot of trouble figuring out how to fix it. She went to the place where she had them done and they wanted to charge her even more money for them to fix their own mistake. It wasn't until this story that I thought about how ironic it was that Timothy Geithner just got approved to be the Secretary of the Treasury. I really didn't think it was that big of a deal...but it made me wonder what will happen to Joe's mom if she can't get it fixed.

There's all this talk about how it would be wrong to give people back more money than they paid out in taxes. I wonder if the people who are talking can afford both fruit and vegetables...

There are some days I desperately wish that socialism worked. Most days, actually.

I wonder what it is that causes us to think that we get what we work for and those who have nothing obviously just didn't work as hard we we did. In everyday life we can see extreme injustices where this obviously isn't true...where those who have did not necessarily work harder than the have-nots...and yet I still fall prey to these selfish and hoarding thoughts often.

Why is it human nature to exalt some and to oppress others? Why can some sins be erased while others hold people in bondage forever? Why do some people consistently and methodically get taken advantage of?

And what can be done...

Inauguration Fever! (Err. Shiver, maybe?)--Videos, Pictures and Thoughts from Inauguration 2009

Today Luke and I joined many, many people (estimated 1-2 million!) on the National Mall to watch President Barack Obama take his oath of office and become the first African-American President of the United States of America. While there are many differing thoughts about what kind of leader he will be, this day was a historic one, and his call for unity among the people is clear. I wanted to take this time (like many of my fellow bloggers) and share our experiences from the Inauguration, as well as some of my thoughts.

First of all, if you would like to see pictures from the Inauguration, you can see them here. And now for the videos (which took me FOREVER to upload...you're welcome), remember, they all have sound, so turn up that volume!

The first is the L'Enfant Metro Station, which is right near the Mall, and is situated on the yellow, green, blue and orange lines. Needless to say, the station was packed...even at 4:15 in the morning, in 22 degree weather with a wind chill of 9. It was an exciting time.

Since it was so cold outside, Luke and I went into the Smithsonian Museum for American History. Two Smithsonian Museums opened at 8:00 AM, rather than 10:00 AM to provide warm places for cold Inauguration goers who were camped out on the Mall. Many, many people took advantage of this. As seen in the video below. I had a second that I took while walking through the Museum, but it's pretty long and wouldn't download. You'll just have to look at the pictures on facebook. In this video you only see a few people, but we were on the second floor, sitting in a corner, in an area that was hardly crowded--comparitvely.



Lastly, the historic event of President Barack Obama taking his Oath of Office. It was pretty amazing to witness that with so many people on the National Mall. You can't hear it very well, and the video is a little bit crazy since people kept getting in the view of the screen and I was trying to tape it without looking at it...excuses, excuses...

Many of you probably heard the speech that President Obama gave. If not, I'm sure you've read it, or at least heard about it. I, for one, really liked it. I thought that it was a call to action in a time when action seems hard. I thought it was a call to unity, which often times seems impossible. And I thought that it was a call to dream big, dream together, and work together to accomplish those dreams. It acknowledged the past, and gave a call to move on...together.

I think that a big part of Obama's call to unity was missed out on when former President Bush was consistently "Booed" from the National Mall. I grow increasingly tired of the criticisms and jokes. While I don't agree with many things Bush did, I also agree with some of things he did do...but I also think that the point isn't to dwell in the past of "Bush was a horrible President" but rather to move on to what we can do right as a country. Calling the country to grow up and mature together. To take responsibility of this country on ourselves and be the change. I think he wants to help lead us to change--but he can't make the changes for us.

If you know me at all, you can probably guess that my favorite parts of the speech were when President Obama talked about poverty. In the same line of my comments above, I think that he asked us as citizens of the United States to re-evaluate our lives and take responsibility for our own lives and the lives of those around us.

I really liked quotes like this:
Nor is the question before us whether the market is a force for good or ill. Its power to generate wealth and expand freedom is unmatched, but this crisis has reminded us that without a watchful eye, the market can spin out of control - that a nation cannot prosper long when it favors only the prosperous. The success of our economy has always depended not just on the size of our gross domestic product, but on the reach of our prosperity; on the ability to extend opportunity to every willing heart - not out of charity, but because it is the surest route to our common good.

And this:
To the people of poor nations, we pledge to work alongside you to make your farms flourish and let clean waters flow; to nourish starved bodies and feed hungry minds. And to those nations like ours that enjoy relative plenty, we say we can no longer afford indifference to suffering outside our borders; nor can we consume the world's resources without regard to effect. For the world has changed, and we must change with it.

I was glad that these things (among other subjects, such as the beauty of diversity in the United States and the aforementioned call to unity) were again brought up as themes in Obama's speech. And I hope that these things will be the theme of his Presidency.

But we have to remember, again, that this is a call to action. There is still poverty, there is still racism, there is still massive injustice in the United States and around the world.

I/Christians also need to remember and realize that Barack Obama does not equal hope. Jesus does.

My sister, Christie, had to write a paper at the end of her JanTerm that was spent in Washington, DC. The paper was on "the two Washingtons". Kind of hearkening back to John Edward's "Two Americas". In Washington, DC there is a very clear cut between the "haves" and "have-nots"--those who work on Capitol Hill and those who sleep there. Those who work in the financial district by day as analysts, consultants and lawyers and those who work there by night as prostitutes, pimps and beggars. Those who live in beautiful row houses in Northwest and those who clean them. Christie's writing of this paper led me to think about how I've seen these two Washingtons since I've lived here.

Luke has the distinct pleasure and pain to be a part of both of these Washingtons. Luke goes to work in McPherson Square, which is a square in the financial district that is lined by office buildings on the outside and filled with homeless people on the inside. This gives him unique opportunities to get to know some of the people who live in McPherson (if you can call it living). Then he comes home to our apartment in Northeast, notorious for the "have-nots" (not quite as notorious as Southeast). He gets to see it all.

Also in the financial district there are a number of brothels. Lined up next to bars and "Gentlemens" Clubs that are frequented by yuppies, there are places where women are being exploited and abused. Two streets down from where Luke works (still in the financial district) is "the track", the name for the streets where johns can purchase women.

Even today coming home from the Inauguration Luke and I experienced the two Washingtonss when we encountered our friend, Joe. He was sweeping the hall of our apartment building (he is the maintenance man/ housekeeper), and he asked us if we had been to the Inauguration. I was almost embarrassed to tell him that we had been there, while he had been working hard all day. Just because Luke's job allows him the freedom to work from home and put in the hours at his leisure.

Luke and I are consistently perplexed by these two Washingtons and wonder what we can do more of or what it would be like if the two Washingtonss met more closely and consistently. If the "haves" dined with the "have-nots" and listened to their stories, their troubles, their joys. If there was a collective pool for everyone to share out of. Both sides are hard workers, or have been at some time--I don't know if I've met a homeless person yet who has been homeless forever. We're all sinners, in need of grace...just different kinds of grace. What if we could meet each other face to face and show each other grace through encounters--and in that way encounter the love of Jesus...

But President Obama is not the answer for the questions Luke and I have. Nor will he bring about the grace that could happen if the two sides consistently meet with each other. No, he will be transformed as well if he chooses to let himself be. One thing that excites me about President Obama is that he sees the two Washingtons. In this article he talks about how he sees his role in helping to bridge the gap. Here is an article about his first attempt. I don't like to find hope in political figures, I don't chant their names out loud, and I don't think they will fix anything. I hope for Jesus moving in the spirits of people to prompt them to be a catalyst to change. And I like it when public figures seem to want things change and are willing to let themselves be changed.

Luke and I were talking about the presence of an invocation and benediction at the Inauguration today. Sometimes I get confused about church and state and where they should and shouldn't intersect, and I almost always come out with fuzzy lines and complicated thoughts. I think, though, that proclaiming the United States as a "Christian Nation" does a huge disservice to Christians and non-Christians, but most of all God. When a "Christian Nation" lets people go hungry...lets homeless people sleep in weather that most people (including me) can't be out in for more than 12 hours...lets people go without healthcare because they can't afford it...then it looks like Christians don't care...it looks like God doesn't care... And I'm pretty sure that's not true...on both ends.

This post has no real conclusion...the fact is that there are two worlds. Those who have, and those who don't. I just think it's time for them to intersect. And I think that if we look at the way that Jesus lived, He does too.

A beautiful illustration of the two intersecting worlds happened last night during an Inaugural Ball called The People's Ball, where a wealthy man in Virginia decided that he wanted to take an event usually reserved for the rich and famous and give it to the ordinary and desolate. He invited people from Washington, DC to as far away as Kansas and California to come celebrate the Inauguration of Barack Obama in a Washington, DC Mariott just two blocks away from the White House. He paid for their hotel rooms, he paid for their way to get here--from homeless people to elderly sick to young with disabilities--as many people as he could afford to bring and to house. He and volunteers collected so many tuxedos and ball gowns that they had to start turning away donations. And the men and women from all over the country came and picked out a dress or a tux. Dressed to the nines they joined wealthy sponsors of the Ball--indiscriminately dressed. One woman commented this morning on NPR that no one could tell the rich from the poor, no one knew who was homeless or who lived in a mansion...women and men transformed into royalty--rich and poor alike. This story gives me chills and brings tears to my eyes, for I think those who were there must have caught a little glimpse of Heaven.

Missing the Point

So here it is. The long promised "real" post about Job, Brennan Manning and God (and it's really long...just a warning).

First a confession: I've never been a fan of Job. When I realized that my "Read Through The Bible: Chronologically" took me there a mere eleven chapters into Genesis I flinched a little and started counting down the twelve days until it would be over.

For those of you who don't know, Job is a book about God taking a bet, of sorts, with Satan. The book starts out with Satan approaching God after "roaming through the earth and going back and forth in it" and God asks Satan if he has thought about the most righteous man upon the earth, Job. Satan then says that Job would curse God's name if he lost everything, and God says try him, just don't kill him. So Satan does. When Job is at his lowest point--after his wife leaves because Job will not "curse God and die"--his friends come around and blame Job for the things that are happening to him. In the end Job asks God why He did it, and God tells him not to question the Almighty about things he won't, can't or shouldn't understand. The reason why I have never liked this book is that it seems so incredibly cruel, and in the end there are no answers. (Kind of like applying for jobs...coincidence?).

It was somewhere in Chapter 19 it hit me. Maybe I'm missing the point of Job. Maybe I get so wrapped up in this "innocent" man suffering at the hand of Satan on a bet with God that I miss the rest of the story. Maybe the story isn't about action or inaction, but rather about reaction. After all, God only speaks for 4 chapters out of 42, the rest of the book is dialogue--glorious poetry of God's greatness and man's weakness and wickedness--between Job and his friends. But the thing that really stuck me is how Job pleads with his friends to have compassion on him, while his friends hold that Job must have done something wicked to be in the situation that he is currently in. As I was reading the other day I realized how familiar Job's friends' thought process was to the excuses commonly made today for not reaching out in compassion towards others. Maybe they should work harder, maybe they should have paid attention in school, maybe they shouldn't take drugs, maybe their dad should have stuck around, maybe, maybe, maybe...

...maybe we don't get what we deserve...

You see, it had already been established that Job was a righteous man. He even sacrificed for sins his sons and daughters might have committed, he took care of the poor and the orphans...he did it all, folks. And yet his friends, looking for a response, can do nothing but blame Job for the trouble that has come upon him. And I can understand this response...being, well, human, I want to find reasons as well. Reasons for suffering and pain. Maybe there isn't always a reason. Maybe the reason for one's suffering and one's pain is to give me the opportunity to sit down and talk about their suffering with them, or to give them a hug.

I am not good at this. In fact, I think more often I act out of guilt rather than joy or compassion. And yesterday was a prime example.

I was walking to an Immigration Policy seminar. Crossing the street, I looked up and under an overhang between two stores was a homeless woman huddled over. She stood up and it looked like she was pulling up her pants. While I was still a few feet away she tossed a bag out onto the sidewalk. It smelled. Really bad. She had just finished using the bathroom. I was confused and sickened as I looked down at my feet and hurried by--unsure of what to do or how to respond.

For the rest of the day I felt guilty. I couldn't stop thinking about this woman--and I still wonder what the correct response should have been. I like to tell myself that I passed quickly by in order to give her her privacy--in order to not embarrass her.

Really? I probably passed by in order to maintain my own privacy--in order not to feel embarrassed myself.

This is where the wonderful prose of Brennan Manning comes in. The Ragamuffin Gospel is about grace. Undeniable, passionate and loving grace. The grace that I so often neglect to give myself or others, let alone accept that maybe Jesus wants to give me (or others) some grace too. I beat myself up, I get angry and I'm confused about the way I am to live my life. Even when it comes to accepting grace I find my journal full of "Why can't you just learn to accept grace!"--a statement hardly full of the grace I should be learning to accept. This is not what Christianity is about...and it's not what Jesus came for. Jesus wants us to experience joy. Not happiness...but rather a joy that cannot be repressed that is evident in all situations--good and bad. This joy comes from knowing there is a Father in Heaven, Savior of the World who loved you...me...everyone. And then this knowledge brings us joy...that joy then moves us to REACT to suffering with love, compassion and awe of the Almighty.

This is an ongoing struggle for me...it's a learning process that I can't learn, that has to be taught to me. My prayer is that I would find joy in the struggle.

Elihu is Job's youngest and wisest friend. He speaks at the end of the book out of, what I perceive, to be compassion and with the full knowledge of the power and greatness of the Almighty. This is one thing that he says:

But those who suffer, He delivers in their suffering;

He speaks to them in their affliction.
(Job 36:15)

Notice God does not take away their suffering, but rather meets them in it.

Grace is found in Job too, when Elihu reminds Job that neither goodness or sin matters to the Almighty. Why would he punish us for things that hurt us far more than Him.

Do you think this is just? You say, "I will be cleared by God." Yet you ask Him, "What profit is it to me, and what do I gain by not sinning?"

I would like to reply to you and to your friends with you. Look up at the heavens and see; gaze at the clouds so high above you. If you sin how does that affect Him? If your sins are many, what does that do to Him? If you are righteous, what do you give to Him, or what does He receive from your hand? Your wickedness affects only a man like yourself, and your righteousness only the sons of men.

While I would also like to point out that our wickedness, as well as our righteousness, can also affect others, I think this is something I need to take to heart. You see, we don't do good works on earth in order to earn brownie points, or to have things go right for us, or to stop feeling guilt. We act out of knowledge and joy (as mentioned earlier). And we're not always going to get things right...and probably seldom will.

...Imagine a little boy trying to help his father with some household work, or making his mother a gift. The help may be nothing more than getting in the way, and the gift may be totally useless, but the love behind it is simple a pure, and the loving response it evokes is virtually uncontrollable. I am sure it is this way between our Abba and us...Our sincere desire counts far more than and specific success or failure...(The Ragamuffin Gospel)

I don't really know what else to say. I didn't mean for this post to go on so long...maybe if I would have written it sooner...

Like I've said already...it's a complicated struggle for me...and my guess is that it will be forever. In the meantime, I have the love and grace of Jesus, whether or not I accept it...thank God...for real.

There are so many beautiful passages in Job and I wish I could share them all with you.

But I can't. So you should read it. But don't miss the many points--all of the beautiful, complicated and life-changing points.

How Original

It's New Year's Eve and I'm blogging. How original. I feel like I should get in my last post before the end of 2008. Or else.

December has gone by too quickly and I feel like I have so much to say and yet nothing to say all at the same time. North Carolina was good. Almost too good. It's nice to feel at home with two families now. Three, I guess, if you count the family that Luke and I make. Four if you count how wonderful it was to see beautiful, dear friends over break.

I don't often forget how I miss my friends from school. Wonderful women who I could talk with for hours and hours if only there was more time. But being with them makes me remember how good it is to be in community. I desperately needed the lunches that I had with Rachel, Whitney, Kristen, Emily, Kathryn, Liz and Amanda as well as the coffee break with Ashleigh. I needed to talk about the things that were happening in my life and hear about others' lives, I needed to talk about frustrations with people who have the same frustrations and listen to wise words from women who know who I am. It always amazes me how good friends just click, it doesn't matter if it's been 3 minutes or 3 months. I am truly grateful for the women in my life. Not to leave out the strong mother, mother-in-law, grandmothers, aunts and sisters I've been blessed with as well. These women show me what it means to face life and to take it for what it is and follow God into the complexity and uncertainty that lies ahead.

During lunch with Kristen, Rachel and Whitney we were talking about, well, everything, and the subject came around to grad school and the future. While discussing what I quite possibly want to do with my life I made the comment that I wasn't sure if I could be a case manager forever, since I feel things very intensely. All three of my friends burst out laughing and Kristen said "That might just be the understatement of the year...And that's why we love you." It was good to hear that...and I'm not sure why. I don't know if it's because so often I feel foolish for the tears that come to my eyes when I think about the women at Polaris or see someone shivering on the street when I have nothing to offer. Or maybe it's just because I've felt so lost in emotion that it was good to hear that it's okay because that's part of who I am. Whatever the reason, it was good to hear.

Christmas was full of laughter and excitement. I really love Christmas at my house because it isn't filled with "Oh, I want to open this present next!" but rather "Please open the present from me next!" The giving is so much more exciting than the receiving. I hope that my children are the same way. Christmas was also full of music and yummy cooking. When I first started this post (it took me several days to finish) I was sitting on the couch while my father, Christie and Katie were in the living room singing selections from The Messiah, while my mother was creating delicious treats in the kitchen. It was good to be back in Mebane for awhile.

I hope you all had a joyous Christmas, as well, and are enjoying this New Year's Eve. I still find myself struck by Christmas and what it all means. I understand Jesus coming down to Earth for us...but I'm still not sure what implications it has for my life. I once heard Scott Bessenecker (the leader of Global Urban Trek and an author for InterVarsity Press) say that Jesus' first cry of solidarity with the poor was his first cry as a baby, implying two things: (first) that we, as humans, are all poor and (second) that because Jesus showed solidarity with us we must also show solidarity with each other.

I have a confession: I don't know what solidarity looks like.

When we say unity and/or solidarity...what does that really mean? And when people are supposed to know that we are Christians by our love...what is love? True, hardcore, Godly love. The way Jesus loved. And, on top of that, how do we pursue such love if we are never going to be perfect lovers of humanity. Not only that but love gets mixed up and meshed together here in our imperfect world. Love tends to mean tolerance and support lately...and yet Jesus showed us love by becoming like us, living among us and dying for us...all the while identifying sin for what it is and calling people to holiness and perfection...

I find myself more and more reluctant to use the word "home" lately. I can feel at home with people, but for some reason no place feels like home any more. I don't quite fit in Mebane, and I definitely don't fit in DC yet. I was talking to Luke about it and he said "That's because Earth isn't our home." I think it's a profound concept. It's something I've heard a lot, but never quite felt until recently, but it's true. The things I long for...community with all, where all is fair and all people are taken care of, where complexity is gone and truth is known...these are things that will not be truly present until heaven. We work towards them now, but live in a constant "already, but not yet" state until Christ returns and all is made right again. So we work towards a Heavenly Kingdom, where brokenness is no longer felt, we pray to be made as whole as possible and serve others so that they may become whole by the grace of God. And we wait for that glorius day when all will be made right. And it will be glorious.

2008 was a crazy year. Crazy, but wonderful. Full of questions, frustrations and anger met with God's provision, grace and mercy. Full of God knocking me on my back and picking me up...but also teaching me to be patient because in some things I'm still waiting for Him to pick me up, dust me off and help me learn to walk again. I know He will though, He is good, always (I need to write that now so when I can't find a job and I'm frustrated I'll read this blog and remember...). I'm thankful that God is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow...and I look forward to learning more about how I relate to such a Constant Being and how I can learn to serve Him better, always.

Happy New Year, everyone!

Do You Hear What I Hear?

Said the night wind to the little lamb--
Do you see what I see?
Way up in the sky, little lamb?

Do you see what I see?

The star, the star dancing in the night
with a tail as big as a kite,
with a tail as big as a kite.

Said the little lamb to the shepherd boy--
Do you hear what I hear?
Ringing though the sky, shepherd boy?
Do you hear what I hear?
The song, the song high above the trees
with a voice as big as the sea,
with a voice as big as the sea

Said the shepherd boy to the mighty king--
Do you know what I know?
In your palace warm, mighty king,
Do you know what I know?
A Child, a Child shivers in the cold,
let us bring Him silver and gold,
let us bring Him silver and gold

Said the king to the people everywhere--
Listen to what I say!
Pray for peace, people everywhere
Listen to what I say!
The Child, the Child sleeping in the night,
He will bring us goodness and light,
He will bring us goodness and light.

I absolutely love this song--at all times of the year, really. (Especially when it is sung by Mac Powell of Third Day...).

I am still trying to wrap my mind around the concept of the working poor. While I have known theoretically that these people exist, and while I have thought about the concept before, never have I been faced with it so blatantly than while living here. I think it is easy for people (including myself) in the "middle class" (let's not even mention the "upper class" here) to forget that the working poor exist (let me reiterate--myself included). These people work hard--usually physical labor--and yet do not make a living wage. We get caught up in living, in trying to make our own ends meet and forget that there are many people who cannot make ends meet, regardless of how they manage their money.

On Tuesday night a man knocked on Luke and my door and asked us if we had any money. His wife has diabetes and needed medication and he doesn't get paid until next week. This isn't the first time he's asked us for money, and we know that he will pay us back as soon as we gets his paycheck (he has before), and so we trust him. The paying back really isn't an issue anyway, which we stated once, but after thinking about it I think it might have been a bad idea; this man had to humble himself enough to come knock on our door, the least we could have done was protected his pride by assuming that he can and will pay us back. This man works for the apartment company that Luke and I rent from...after hearing how much he makes an hour Luke and I did a little bit of figuring. At the very most, our monthly rent only pays for one hour of his work a month...and he definitely does much more for us than just an hour of work a month (that is assuming that he only gets paid for 40 hours a week, even though we're pretty sure he works more than that--maybe we should cut the Gelman Company some slack...). After expenses he can't make it until the end of the month.

And he's not the only one. There are women in the organization where I work who, though they hold down full-time positions, will sometimes catch a charge for renegading (the term used for a woman who used to work with a pimp, gets rescued from a trafficking situation or kicked out because she is pregnant, old or sick, and therefore now works in the line of prostitution on her own) because they need to make money and it is the only other way they know how (let alone all of the other emotional trauma or mental disorders they suffer from). The concept of working poor should not exist.

As I think about it all I get frustrated and angry. When I think about the lyrics above--about goodness and light, about peace brought by a baby named Jesus who would grow into a man and save the world--I wonder where the goodness is for these men and women, do they get lost in it all? But then I remember that this babe--this man named Jesus was born of a peasant, the son of a carpenter, He was a refugee, the first to worship Him were shepherds, His closest friends were fishermen and tax collectors, He hung out with lepers and women who had been prostituted...this Jesus came for the working poor, for the non-working poor, the forgotten, the untouched.

There is peace, goodness and light for all. There is hope and love regardless of capitalism or socialism, of republicans or democrats...there was a man named Jesus whose very essence was love and peace and He was--no, IS--available to all, regardless of socio-economic status, race or any other of the imaginary barriers we use to separate ourselves...He spoke of justice...of loving your neighbor as yourself (does it really get any more just than that?).

And He calls us to the same way of love and justice. Do you hear what I hear?

Chicken Flavored

Over the past few weeks Luke and I have been living on lots of cheap foods. Many of these cheap foods are "Chicken Flavored". Don't ask me how you get chicken flavoring (according to Luke it has something to do with squeezing a chicken...), but obviously it's cheaper (and easier) than real chicken and thus it ends up in our kitchen cabinets waiting to be eaten. As I sat eating my Chicken flavored Ramen Noodles the other day I was musing over how chicken flavoring is clearly not as good as real chicken. Even though it (may) taste like chicken it is not chicken, it does not have the nutritional value of real chicken, and therefore you cannot live off of chicken flavoring.

I kind of feel like this is the way I am living; a kind of chicken flavored life. I'm made for community--for real community. I've known this for a long time, and I truly found it during my senior year of college among good friends and long conversations laying in the grass or sitting in the Union. I miss discipleship and good friendships that seem to come naturally. I miss real community...not chicken flavored community. And yet the worst part about it is that I can't seem to motivate myself towards finding this community. Instead I read Acts and think about what it means and refuse to act out the way I think it should be acted out here. Instead of engaging those around me I sit and wish that they would engage me. We talked about Barnabas today during church, and I realized that I really do enjoy encouraging people and discipling--I miss it, I long for it and I want to do it. And yet at this moment I find myself unable to be vulnerable with anyone, including my husband. What is going on? I'm made for community--I long for community--and yet I just want to curl up into a little ball most of the time, refusing to engage others or to be engaged by others. Yes, my friends, I am living a chicken flavored life.

On top of it all the thoughts that go through my head are not about the present, but rather about the future. I think about where Luke and I will be in a year or five and think about how we will engage the people around us THEN...not now. It's like having five bucks in your pocket and you can buy chicken flavored cup'o'noodles or a piece of juicy fried chicken (neither of which are really healthy, but go with the idea)...instead of just buying the friend chicken you get the cup'o'noodles, and while you heat the water and wait the three minutes for the cup'o'noodles to be ready you wish that you would have gotten the fried chicken...

No, my friends, community does not come easily. It is hard and it takes a lot of effort. And it makes me tired just thinking about how we are going to engage the people around us, serve the poor of the city, all the while looking ahead to the future and balancing this crazy thing called following Jesus...learning what it means to take care of ourselves, trust God to do it for us and selling all we have to give to the poor. What do these things mean?

In the same vein, Luke and I have been reading The Irresistible Revolution by Shane Claiborne together and it is really, really challenging us. What does all of it mean? One of the more challenging quotes/ideas that we read recently is this: [Yes, Jesus said that the poor will always be with us, but this makes me ask] "Where are the poor? Are the poor among us?" The answer is usually a clear negatory. As we study the Scriptures we see how many texts we have misread, contextualized, and exegeted to hear what we want to. Like this one about the poor being among us, which Jesus says in the home of a leper and after a poor woman anoints his feet with perfume. The poor were all around him... (emphasis added and first part paraphrased).
Again, I ask, what does this mean for us today? It's so hard, so challenging...this man named Jesus and the things He asks us to do...

But even though it's hard, and we have many tough conversations, and sometimes I just want to give up I know that the fried chicken life is so much better than the chicken flavored life...so can you pass the chicken please? Some how there's a community to build, and I can't think of a better way to do it than around dinner...

...I'll let you know how it goes...