One Year (almost) Finished

Today marked the end of 3/5 of my classes for the second semester of my freshman year.  Like every other day, my roommates and I met at our RA's house at 6 am for prayer. At 6:30 we walked to the school where I had a veggie omelet with hot sauce.  And then at 7, I walked into Exodus/Deuteronomy for the last time.  Well, except for my final next week...

Anyways, despite being up late studying and up early praying, I was wide awake this morning.  Exodus/Deuteronomy, though a struggle sometimes at 7 am, has been a great class and I wanted to enjoy every minute of it.  

Going with the Israelites through this journey of being saved from oppression, and then led through the wilderness has been so emotional: through the hard parts, the frustrating parts, the moving parts, and the emotional parts. 

Today, we had chapters 30-34 to cover in an hour and a half.  And then we were done.  Moses died, I put a big check mark over those two books, and wiped my hands of Exodus and Deuteronomy.  

Nah...my mind was turning as the class ended, and with 15 minutes until my last Spirit & Law class, I wrote down some thoughts.  

Moses has been on this journey with the Israelites for 40 years.  40 stinkin' years with a people who are often referred to as "stiff-necked"! He has lived through 2 generations, leading them through this wilderness classroom - teaching them the commandments and preparing them to live in this promised land they are now before.  

For 40 years, he has humbled himself before Yahweh, putting aside his personal desires, ambitions, and plans in order to serve God and lead this "stiff-necked" people.  This is what his life has consisted of: getting this people to the land.  His entire life.  

And they've made it! They're before the land, getting ready to enter.  But after a whole chapter of how Yahweh will be faithful and bless them in the land, in 31:14 Yahweh speaks to Moses: "Your time to die is near..."  Moses won't be entering the land.  But it just gets worse in verse 16: "Soon you will lie down with your ancestors.  Then this people will begin to prostitute themselves to the foreign gods in their midst, the gods of the land into which they are going; they will forsake me, breaking my covenant I have made with them."

A dagger to the heart!  What a terrible ending.  What a sad picture - that this people who have been saved from oppression by a God who is offering life, a commandment so that they can live well, and a promise to make them fruitful, will turn away.  The life Moses gave up to lead Yahweh's people through the wilderness will culminate in their disobedience to him still.  

The heartache this causes Yahweh isn't even comprehensible.  But solely speaking from Moses' point of view.... still, what a horrible thing to hear.  That his whole life and all the time he spent investing in this people will result in them being unfaithful in their promise to Yahweh.  While he lay prostrate before Yahweh, humbling himself and laying down everything to partner with God, these people will simply turn to local gods and idol worship.

Just another test of faith.  Moses is at the end of his life, he's not going into the land.  He's human and his mortality is knocking on the door.  He's been a humble and obedient servant so far, but will he remain obedient knowing this?  Will he have faith that God is going with them into the land?  Or will he give up? He's old, he's dying, and these people are going to disobey anyway... why not just give up? Why be obedient?  What is there to hope for?

Moses chooses to have faith: faith that God, despite the people's unfaithfulness to uphold their side of the covenant, will continue to be faithful to his side of the covenant: to build up a people who will reveal the character of God to the world through their love and care for another.   

Then I thought about Jesus.  Jesus, who lived this incredible life, but died as a criminal.  He fed people, he clothed them, he ate with them, associated himself with the lowly of society, and loved them.  But in his darkest hours, his friends fell asleep on him rather than praying with him.  His best friend denied knowing him.  And then, he was beaten and hung on a cross.   At the end of his life, he looked like a criminal...a weak human with nothing to show.  

All he could do was remain obedient and have faith.  Faith that God hadn't called him to be different only to forsake him.  That God was with him, and his life would be a light to others.  The revelation of Yahweh and the example of how to live.  

Then, true to the recurrent theme throughout Exodus/Deuteronomy: I remembered my own story.  

I remembered how God called me just under a year ago to partner with him to shed light on dark situations and bring justice to his people who suffer.  And the sacrifice this required.  That I've had to continually give up my own dreams, my own hopes, and my own plans for my own future.  Dreams that weren't bad, hopes that were dignified, and plans to live with people I loved dearly for the rest of my life.  

I thought about how I've had to lay all of that aside and walk humbly before the LORD.  I've been tested to see if I will be obedient... if I truly believe and have faith.... that he will redeem me, heal me, and then use me to do good.  That despite all the doubts against the decisions I've made and the path I've chosen... despite how silly or radical it all may seem, I have faith that he will use my life to be an example for others and to bring healing, redemption, and justice to the suffering people of this world.  

I've had to walk with faith - believe that he will not forsake me.  Everyday I must choose to believe that God is with me.  That he is helping me.  That he didn't call me to do this to leave me alone in it... to set me up to fail, but that he is near, helping me, and that in my obedience, he will use me.   

sticks and stones may break my bones... and your words will hurt me

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me"

That was always a fun comeback as a 7 year old...an easy one to resort to.  Really stickin' it to 'em with that one.  Yet, after I would use it, I always felt like I was trying to convince myself of it more so than the punk cousin I was trying to get back at.

The effort to protect children from one another's harsh and impulsive words is noble and good, yet the statement itself is such a lie.  Break my bone, and I'll forget once it's healed.  Say something to me, and I will carry it with me.  If intended to hurt, the possibility is high that you will break my trust, break my self-esteem, and break my heart.

Words, especially written words, are powerful.  They have the power to transform minds and sequentially the lives of people.  They can plant small seeds of thought: ideas that the movie Inception demonstrated can be parasitic: taking over one's mind and life.

Both for the good and sometimes for the bad, words are powerful.

With this power, writing inevitably bleeds into our social world.  The spoken word is an obvious and necessary aspect of social activity, but writing itself affects us in a more subliminal, but no less impactful way.

On a basic level, the ability to write and create something available to others is crucial in our holistic development as humans.  The act of writing empowers us as we have within us an ability, no matter the situation or circumstance, to affect others.  It gives us a voice and a way to bring into the open what brings us joy or weighs on our minds.  This then opens a venue for relationship with others.

As we share in the vulnerable experience of bleeding our thoughts and feelings onto page and allowing others to read, we find shared experiences and a cure to the loneliness that results from feeling imprisoned in one's own mind.

We find friendships and we find life - a step towards a more intimate and rich social network.

My own experience with such empowerment and even healing that comes from the ability to communicate in this way drives me in wanting to see this manifested in those who have no voice: the poor who society doesn't see as valuable enough to educate.  I want to help free them from the imprisonment they feel: to give them a voice.

Thank God for Men :)

Patriarchy.  A source of contempt for many individualistic women.  Every independent woman gets fired up about a society ruled by men: the feminist movement, the relinquishing of womanly duties, and competition for male-dominated roles.  I, too, have been offended by our male-dominated society and have rebelled against it...against the need for men and against my desire to be taken care of.

But, the more I learn, experience, and observe, the more I come to understand and respect the value in a patriarchal society.  **(I say this now so that you don't think this is a man-bashing entry written by a feminist, naive, and independent girl blogger.  I share observations concerning the way men have failed, but bear with me all you men-readers: I value you and your role in society and commend all of the wonderful traits that make you great leaders, husbands, fathers, and brothers.)**  :)

I think a lot of this tension comes from the misuse of women by men.  The majority of men do not fulfill the role they were intended to.  While they dominate in nearly all roles of leadership, they have greatly misused their authority.  They do not act as protectors of women and children, but exploit women and children for their own gain.  

In general, men have largely become people unworthy of respect or trust.  They are often greedy and selfish: driven by instinctual desire for power and consumed with chasing after lust.  They do not display the character of a good neighbor, brother, son, husband, or father.  They do not display the image and character they were made in.

This failure in society's men has resulted in gender confusion all across the board.  As men are seen as exploiters of trust and faith, women do not allow them to be in roles they were made for.  Women no longer trust them to adequately fulfill those roles.  Women no longer trust men to be caretakers of them or their children.  Women feel the need to overcompensate - to fulfill these roles.
The result: gender and role confusion, and all kinds of problems that reach and negatively affect all aspects of society...producing an extremely unhealthy world with unhealthy people.
This takes all kinds of forms, many pretty obvious, many too complicated to get into.  None of it is good...none of it is the way it was intended to be.

In my Exodus/Deuteronomy class, we have gotten to chapter 22.  On the first read, I wasn't impressed.  Through the archaic language and culture, I didn't see the significance of what was being communicated.  But, in remembering all that I've learned in Genesis and Exodus and giving the law a second read, I caught on to the picture being portrayed and the effort being made with these "statutes and ordinances".  I saw a law that was striving to protect dependent and vulnerable elements of society: women.

Yes, no matter what we want to believe or how badly we fight it, we, women, are vulnerable and dependent.  Although we have a most important job of taking care of babies and raising children, we were not meant to take care of ourselves alone.

Deuteronomy portrays women as dependents...under the protection and authority of either father or husband.
While Deuteronomy gives this responsibility and even authority to men, it also provides checks on their power.  Limits put in place to avoid societies like what ours has become: where men misuse their power over women to take advantage of them rather than protect them.

These limits and checks: ultimately manifested in men who answer to God - who seek wisdom and guidance from him...seeking to emulate God's character to his wife, children, and the rest of society.  That's a man worthy of respect.

And what a world: where women don't have to sacrifice their gentile, nurturing, and weak (yes, weak) nature in order to be strong and independent in the face of men who will hurt them and exploit them.  Where men can be the authoritative voice and leader and women can be their helpers.

Don't fight against it girls: we are great helpers.  Men couldn't lead without our help.  We need each other.  Equally. But we need each other when we are operating in the right roles.

Women need taken care of.  Men need the help of women.

A Poem

Generally, I really like titles.  I think it's fun coming up with witty ones.  I often spend far too long thinking of one.. though I'm generally not that great.  Alas, I couldn't figure out a title for this.  

I'm no poet.  I'm sure I would offend a poet with this poem.  However, the words just came to me today and I needed to write it down.  It has a lot of meaning to me, but I feel like you could find your own meaning from it.  Or just enjoy the poem.

Poets, don't be offended. :) 

The light flickers over the horizon

As the sun makes his morning debut

Taking his time to awaken life

His warmth kisses a flower

And with that kiss, the flower comes to life

Her vibrant color paints the landscape

The cycle of life plays out

Nature harmoniously working

Creating life

A gentle breeze picks up seed

Potential life being carried

In nurturing hands

The seed falls on soft soil

Potential becomes reality

As the seed begins to find rest in the warmth

But there’s interference

Chaos has its way

Darkness blots out the sun

With sharp edges, something digs into the soil

Threatening life

Stealing reality

And the flower, she wilts a little

Her only offering to the world exploited

Her only offering to the world rejected

But a wind sweeps in

Bringing hope, offering redemption

The rays find their way to the flower

And she tries and tries to welcome the light

She tries and tries to stand up tall again

She tries and tries to paint the landscape with her color 

A Story of Riches

In my last post, I alluded to a lesson I have been processing and thinking through lately, as things that I learn cause these moments to resurface.  Those particular thoughts at the end of my last post have root in a moment in El Salvador this past summer.  I didn't expand on the story because two stories in one post is far too much.  However, I think it's a story worth sharing because it's a moment that grows richer every time I reflect on it.  And due to my fleeting moments at home throughout my busy summer, I didn't have much time to share a lot of stories.

It was one of my last days in El Salvador and my work group took a break from brick-laying to visit a nearby squatter community called Milagro de Dios.  As we walked across the bridge to enter, the land before me was packed tight with misshapen tin shacks, their walls made of trash bags supported by sticks.  The landscape before me was topped off with men in uniform walking around with machine guns.  I would later found out they were surveying the land.

As we walked, I had a difficult time believing the reality before my eyes.  Children were running around with dirty clothes and no shoes on.  People were drinking dirty water - water straight from the polluted lake nearby that they still had to pay for.  Those who had electricity had one light bulb, which cost them $18/month to keep on.  Oh, and forget about bathrooms.

Eventually we found ourselves in the home of the family of a man named Jose.  Jose is a father of 3 children, 5 grandchildren, and another one on the way.  He and his wife live with all of their children (and 2 son-in-laws) and their 5 grandchildren in the little 2-room shack we barely squeezed our team into.  His only job was selling ice cream for $.25/each and the only reason we found him at home is that during the rainy season, which it currently was, ice cream is difficult to sell.

While eating some delicious coconut ice cream, we all gathered around to hear from Jose and his wife.  They lived on very little and lacked any kind of security.  The soldiers parading around outside of the perimeter of the community were a constant threat to the inhabitants - a reminder this land is not theirs and will eventually be taken from them.  The land had become more valuable with the increasing presence of electricity and a bus station or parking lot is more valuable than hundreds of families who have no place else to go.

Despite all the troubles Jose and his wife had faced, the security they lacked, the comfort the lacked, and the fear in which they lived...both of them counted themselves as blessed.  I couldn't fathom how that word belonged in this place.  But they knew something many will never understand.  They were experiencing a life - a full and rich life - that most will never experience.  Through their sufferings, their trials, and their tribulations, they discovered the blessing God gave us in each other.  They understood the way in which we were made - in the image of a relational and loving God.  And because of this understanding, they weren't easily tossed into despair by the winds of chaos that seemed to always whirl around them.  The knew who their God was, and they remained centered, balanced, and hopeful in him.  They didn't blame him for their circumstances, they didn't turn from him for not giving them material blessing or worldly security.  They allowed him to define what was to be cherished in their lives, what was to be important.  They allowed him to be the lens in which they see their circumstances and the world around them.

Jose invited us into his home - a bunch of rich, white Americans - and said to us that he was blessed.  What a perspective to have in life.  Especially in the midst of people who clearly live comfortably, are healthy, and are favored; who are considered blessed by the world's standards.

There is sadness, darkness, and hurt in this world because we are willing to sacrifice our spouses for careers, our daughters to the god of money, greed, and lust, and our sons to military.  We are willing to sacrifice each other in order to serve ideologies, ambitions, desires, dreams, careers, accreditation, power, and money.  Jose and his family didn't have the luxury to even think about any of those things.  In having so little, they learned the necessity for each other.  They knew of the life serving each other and having each other brought to them.  Jose and his family live richly, if one were to consider life and love rich and sacrifice poor.

One of the poorest, most uneducated men I'll ever meet taught me one of the greatest lessons I'll ever learn.

Lessons Learned from the Poor

An excerpt from a book I'm reading for class:
     "Liberal theology, like its nemesis in the evangelical church, is a form of self-exaltation.  While evangelicals often champion a gospel of greed and personal empowerment, deeply attractive to the poor and marginal, liberals often speak on behalf of oppressed groups they never meet, advocating utopian and unrealistic schemes to bring about peace and universal love.  Neither group has much interest in testing their ideologies against reality.  
      
      The lectures I sat through in divinity school about oppression, liberation theology and the just-war theory were safely distant fro the sordid realities we discussed.  These discussions were an intellectual shell game, intriguing, even interesting, but finally meaningless without the visceral experience of the world.


     The first time I saw a human being die in combat rendered hollow the platitudes about proper and improper uses of violence.  I was no longer able to ask the question.


      I was traveling north early one morning during the war in El Salvador on the Troncal highway to the Chaletenango province.  Outside of the town of Aguilares I came upon several cars that had stopped before an open stretch of pavement.  I heard intense bursts of gunfire up ahead, and then all went quiet.  


     I cautiously went forward by foot.  When I neared the opening I saw a young soldier lying in the road with two dull black M-16s on either side of him.  A few yards ahead, people were climbing onto an overcrowded bus.  


      The rebels had stopped the bus to collect "war taxes" when a pickup full of soldiers had sped past.  The two groups had fired on each other.  One soldier, who lay a few feet from me, had been shot through the back of the head.  Another had been wounded.  The truck had raced to the nearest army outpost and the rebels had disappeared in the bush.  The bus driver, fearful of another clash, was shouting at his passengers to get back on board.  The army would probably return soon and more fighting would follow. 


      I knelt down by the soldier, who could have been no more than 16.  He was slowly curling himself into a fetal position.  Blood came from his nose and the small bullet wound in the back of his head.  A woman at the side of the road was watching in tears.  


     "Do you know him?"  I asked.


     She shook her head in the negative.  I watched him die, far from his family and friends, an insignificant casualty in a war of "liberation."


     What could any "new society," one many liberal Christians back, ever mean to the family of this boy?


     Can we really accept that 16-year-old soldiers, press-ganged into the military, are a regrettable sacrifice in the progression toward a new world of the Kingdom of God?  I can accept his death as tragic and inevitable, given the social and historical antecedents leading up to the insurrection, but not as necessary.  Idols, not God, require sacrifices.  In his death I saw through the awful tragedy that is war, the inevitable sadness of it and the glib ways we can speak about experiences that are not our own.  


     Christian groups played an active role in supporting sides in the violent civil wars.  I saw the hypocrisy of liberals and evangelicals in Central America, each of whom chose sides and justified violence in the name of God.  Pat Robertson traveled to camps in Honduras to support the contra bands, funded and backed by the United States, who were attacking Nicaragua.  Many liberal religious leaders embrace the Sandinista government or the Salvadoran rebels.  To bless weapons and soldiers, something I once watched a Catholic bishop do at a military base in Guatemala, is to put faith in the idol of war, in the service of death.  It is, perhaps, the most common and destructive form of idolatry, one that has left more religious institutions morally bankrupt.


     The scene on the highway is seared in my consciousness.  I see the bright, glaring sunlight.  I see the boy dying on the road.  I hear the rumbling of the diesel bus.  I listen to the harried shouts of the driver.  God was there, I know now, But not to bless either side.  The tears of the sobbing woman were the tears of God.


     Idols consume us.  Only the small, mundane acts of life, of kindness for neighbors and friends and family, can save us.  Mothers and fathers, who have put their own careers on hold, know this power, however hard it is to lose the identity and status that come with work.  Those who stop to care for a sick or disabled relative know this.  Sacrifice gives us life.  It frees us from idols.  But we must accept that such sacrifice can be hard and lonely.  Sacrifice for others gives life and makes community possible.  Sacrifice for our idols leaves us with hollow, empty lives.


     Not institution or cause will remember or reward us for the sacrifices we make.  There are no shortages of lives wrecked by idols.  Those who spend their finals years waiting forlornly for a call from children they never bothered to know because they were too busy building careers, must peer into the empty face of the idol they worshipped.  Idols, when they finish with us, discard us.  They keep us from God."


p. 48-50, Losing Moses on the Freeway by Chris Hedges


As wealthy, comfortable Americans, we don't need much.  We have the luxury of bantering about philosophical ideas, contemplating meaning, allowing our lives to be consumed with life-sucking idols.... idols that distract us from each other and from God.  We even have the luxury of figuring out how to take advantage of others for our own good.  We have this luxury because we haven't suffered.  We have time to discuss silly ideas because we haven't experienced reality.  We've lived so cushioned by lies our government and media continually feed us.  


I suppose that's why, despite the poverty and despair, I found more life in a 3rd world country than I do in the land of the free.  They understand suffering, despair, loss, pain.  But they also understand the need for God.  The need for love, for life, for relationship, for each other.  They recognize that without each other to suffer through the trials with and rejoice in the good times, life means nothing.  They don't have the luxury to cast people off for materials, jobs, money, and power.  


Those people I met this summer humiliated me and touched me in a powerful way.  They understood what so many us take advantage of.  They understood the power of love.  The remained faithful through trials.  They weren't people easily tossed by winds of chaos and destruction.  They knew where their center lied....where their hope and faith lied.  They choose love.  

Conviction

I wrote the following essay for my Writers II class and thought I'd share.  The past year or so of my life, those of you who are close to me know of one thing that really drives me - the treatment of women and children.  On a large scale, my heart breaks at the use of girls around the world and the reality of millions who are in sexual bondage.  Although the complexity of this issue is far too vast to address in a short blog, I remain convicted that the image society, specifically American culture, has created and the value they've robbed from women has a hand in even the global "epidemic" of sexual slavery.

P.S. - forgive the bluntness of it.  I apologize if some of the wording is offensive to you.  The assignment was to write about something that convicted us... with a preface of the poem/spoken word by Taylor Mali in which he addresses the lack of substance, conviction, and even personal opinion people speak with today.  These are my thoughts and my opinions - admittedly raging with emotion and passion.  :)

Here is the link for the spoken word if you'd like to hear it.  It's funny in a sad sort of way.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OEBZkWkkdZA

Brittany Girton

Writer’s II

Assignment #1

01/12/12

Assignment #1 – Conviction Essay

            Advocating for oppressed women and children is a trendy topic in America.  This kind of advocacy popularly leads to addressing the issue of sexual slavery and the circumstances that often lead to this kind of oppression.  This seems quite ironic coming from a country that oppresses its women in shrewd and appalling ways.  While the empire of America and the issues we are faced with can hardly, if at all, be related to these impoverished third world countries, I am convinced that society and media has done great harm and committed unforgivable crimes against our young girls – the effects even reaching and contributing in some ways to the image and value of women globally. 

            As I walk through the mall or flip through magazines, I’m appalled by the images of half-naked women plastered everywhere.  Victoria’s Secret isn’t hesitate to disclose to the world not only a degrading and revealing picture of what women have become, but also a false one that infects the minds of boys and girls, men and women.  Billboard ads and TV ads consistently bombard us with thousands of products, procedures, and programs to ensure a woman looks her best, while coupling those ads with more pictures to ensure a woman is never satisfied.  Then, the seemingly free use of women’s bodies on the big screen is incredibly offensive.  From reality TV shows to box office hits, every aspect of media seems to have a hand in infecting society with harmful ways to view, value, and respect women. 

            As I get older, I have begun to discern the differences in men and women and how crucial and wonderful these differences are according to the way God created us.  Through my experiences and continual maturation, I have come to understand the nature of a woman’s heart – a wonderfully unashamed and humble servant’s heart.  Unashamed in that she will, without question, put another’s need before her own.  Women naturally love with a kind of selfless love that echoes the motherly characteristics God instilled in all women.  This type of devotion and love must be protected and respected.  Yet my heart breaks at the way society chooses to manipulate this vulnerability of women, and men choose to be predators instead of protectors. 

            The most heartbreaking, however, is the way society continues to attack the younger generations.  There is no filter or protection for the innocent and curious minds of young girls.  This lack of protection is apparent in the growing rate of teen and even pre-teen sexual activity and pregnancies.  Girls, having been tutored by these images and the overall treatment of women, conform to what they believe is expected and wanted from them.  They have nothing to derive their value from expect for what the media offers and what men tell them.

            A good father can do his best in protecting his young daughter from this mindset, but this seems to be the minority, as society and the ancient desire for power tutors even the men in the way they should value and treat women.  And even with the presence of a strong and protective father, as soon as that young girl comes out from under her father or is inevitably influenced by the invasiveness of this kind of thought, she becomes jaded by it.  By junior high, her pants are getting tighter, her shirts more revealing, and her make-up more seductive.  In high school, Halloween becomes cool again as she discovers costumes other than princesses, fairies, and witches. 

            Her innocence is stolen to make an extra buck; she has become a commodity.  And this is the great country in which we live – where people are enslaved by this consumer-driven society where women are taken advantage of for the sake of getting ahead or fulfilling lustful desires.  Our culture has infected the world with this selfish way to live in greedy entitlement to all things; a way that derives value from things and use from people.   

            The powerful, heartless men hold the ability to control women in their hands.  They know the intimate and pure desires of a woman’s heart and have mastered the art of manipulating those desires to fulfill their own desires – both lustful and greedy.  So this is how our culture has infected both American girls and girls around the world.  Men have the power to control the way women dress, act, and even think.  There exists no moral conviction or shame in treating women as objects for both financial gain and sexual fulfillment.  Thousands of girls are trafficked across hundreds of borders everyday with seeming ease and there exists virtually no enforcement and no protection.  And why would there be?  The American Empire shows the world an excusable way to treat women that is a benefit to the powerful.  Women are expendable and their value is held only in their ability to please men in a variety of ways. 

            Their voice is silenced, their innocence stolen, their beauty tarnished, and their value diminished.  My heart breaks as beautiful women and innocent girls with the potential to bring so much life and beauty to the world are broken by the evils of this world.  I hate that potential mothers, daughters, and sisters are treated as objects of sex and seen as potential for gain. 

            Although American girls aren’t sexual slaves in literal bondage, they are oppressed in the sense that our culture suffocates their ability to blossom into daughters of God.  As a result, our society is dying, and the evidence is great.  Biblically, the health of a society has much to do with the health of its women.  Yet the life is being sucked out of our women.  All that makes them beautiful, wonderful, unique, and usable by God has been raped from them.  Even the most physically detrimental and heartbreaking kinds of oppression and enslavement don’t overshadow this invisible oppression because of its tight grip on the minds of the vulnerable, whom society has chosen to manipulate rather than protect.

Falling in Love in the New Year

I spent the first night of the New Year with my family here in TN...having dinner together, catching up with each other, worshipping, and being encouraged by the word.  Despite being sick for the past 2 weeks and only having energy to sleep for the past couple of days, I felt so alive tonight.  My heart was full of joy and hope.

One of the songs we sang was One Day by Matisyahu:


sometimes I lay
under the moon
and thank God I'm breathing
then I pray
don't take me soon
cause I am here for a reason


sometimes in my tears I drown
but I never let it get me down
so when negativity surrounds
I know some day it'll all turn around
because


all my life I've been waiting for
I've been praying for
for the people to say
that we don't wanna fight no more
they'll be no more wars
and our children will play
one day x6


it's not about
win or lose cause
we all lose
when they feed on the souls of the innocent
blood drenched pavement
keep on moving though the waters stay raging
in this maze you can lose your way (your way)
it might drive you crazy but don't let it faze you no way (no way)


sometimes in my tears I drown
but I never let it get me down
so when negativity surrounds
I know some day it'll all turn around
because


all my life I've been waiting for
I've been praying for
for the people to say
that we don't wanna fight no more
they'll be no more wars
and our children will play
one day x6


one day this all will change
treat people the same
stop with the violence
down with the hate
one day we'll all be free
and proud to be
under the same sun
singing songs of freedom like
one day x4


all my life I've been waiting for
I've been praying for
for the people to say
that we don't wanna fight no more
they'll be no more wars
and our children will play
one day x6


Go ahead and listen to it, too.... 


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kS9uTiEY9ag&feature=endscreen&NR=1


Despite my froggy throat, I was singing as loud as I could... eyes closed and hands clasped in front of me as I saw in my head pictures of one day when my children play with children of a different race, color, and culture.  Playing with children who actually have the energy to play because they get to eat and aren't sick because they have shoes, clothes, and clean water.  I envisioned that one day when I'm joining hands with people, living amongst my brothers and sisters united by the same love and hope for a bright future.  


I'm so filled with hope this year.  I'm surrounded by a group of people who are filled with this same hope and same willingness to follow Jesus into the homes of the broken and I'm so thankful.  


In our Bible Study, we talked about the darkness of experiencing this world alone.  For people who choose to ignore the suffering and pursue power..."one person who has no other, either son or brother, yet there is no end to all his toil, and his eyes are never satisfied with riches, so that he never asks, "For whom am I toiling and depriving myself of pleasure?" This also is vanity and an unhappy business." Eccl. 4:8. Or for people who attempt to take on the burdens by themselves, they also will experience a lonely ending.  


But friendships are what we hold dear to our heart.  In John 15, Jesus says, "Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends."  Going through this text tonight, I realized I'm falling in love with Jesus in a whole new way.  Eccl 4:2-3 says, "and I thought the dead who are already dead more fortunate than the living who are still alive.  But better than both is he who has not yet been and has not seen the evil deeds that are done under the sun."  


What a dark picture.  But Jesus changes all of that.  Through friendships, we can carry the burdens but also the hope to light up the darkness, bring order to chaos, and love that frees the suffering and oppressed.  Jesus did it alone, but he promised us that he will always be with us.  And as I looked around at a room full of people I'm growing to love so incredibly much, I'm so energized rather than burdened by this vocation in which I've chosen to partner with God in.  I'm energized because I won't be alone, but I'll be working alongside my family - using our unique strengths to work together as a body to represent Christ in the world.  The Christ who was concerned about friendships... friendships with people he loved so much he'd lay his life down for.  


What better way to live... and what better way to die.  To have such purpose and to be filled with so much love. 
For some strange reason, I've always been intensely afraid that I will be alone.  I'm so filled with gratitude to be amongst such a family and know I will never be alone, but have finally found a group of people who share the same heart as me... who are heavy with the pain the world endures, but filled with hope for "one day when there are no more wars, and our children will play, one day"... and who love and believe in Jesus so much they've chosen to FOLLOW him...and actually LIVE out the gospel.  


I'm falling in love with Jesus and I'm falling in love with my family here in Tennessee.  What better way to ring in the New Year?