"In fact, I remember thinking that if the world does not hate us, perhaps we should question whether we really are part of another kingdom." - Shane Claiborne, The Irresistible Revolution
My heart aches. It aches with such sadness that I hardly have any words left to utter. Why do we so desire to be of the world?? Why are we stuck??
These struggles continue to challenge the deepest depths of my being. I am continually challenged by what it means to be an American. I wonder if I am part of a social oppression just by being born an American citizen. I can rightly say that this is not my fault, but even so, because it is fact, do I have a responsibility to counteract an unearned privilege that was given to me at birth? Could I not just as seemingly been born in an African hut or an over crowded Indian street? Does my birthplace inherently change the capacity of my intelligence or my worth as a person? Absolutely not. We are all born helpless children with the same needs of food, protection, and love. But our world is set up so that the geographic location of our birth can determine our societal worth instantaneously. Jesus showed us a way that this could change. He showed us a new kind of love, and love has the power to overcome oppression, anger, hatred, and a multitude of sins. Jesus taught us that we now have brothers and sisters in Christ and we are to take care of them, not as if they were are own, but because they are our own. I continue to struggle with these thoughts, and I understand that the fact that I struggle with such things means I am alive. I continuously go back to Romans 8:18 which says, “I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.” God is a just God, and I trust him fully. I am not sure how I could struggle through these things without knowing that something truly good existed. But I do, and that’s what keeps me going.
I have to admit that I am really struggling with the multitude of wealth in communities around me. I do understand that many of these people don’t see what I see. They have preconceived notions and stereotypes about people who are not like them but it is so frustrating because they won’t listen to what I see. They don’t want to know. But I see something entirely different than their world view. I hear case presentations on a 5 year old who is already a gang member by relation to his older brothers. He has witnessed countless murders and his common family fights include pulling out knives. I see a woman working 50 hours a week just to put food on the table. She grew up in an orphanage in a bad part of town, they usually weren't taken to school so she does not know how to read. She is a grandmother and she has stepped up to care for her two grandsons. Their mother is a drug addict and cannot care for them. She needs our help. I see a refugee from South America, raped and beaten in front of her entire family by government authorities. Her family fled here for safety several years ago. They all speak very little English. The mother has a master's degree in accounting in her home country, but she has spent the last several years working as a hospital janitor to provide for her family. She has never missed a day of work. She continues to struggle to provide for her family both physical resources and an emotional safety net. They are spit on, called 'aliens', made fun of, laughed at. They need our love. I see a single mother escaping her abusive husband. She has left everything behind to keep her baby safe. She works a full time job, though most of her minimum wage pay check goes to child care. The only apartment she can afford has mold and led paint. She knows it is not safe for the baby, but she has had to choose between there and the streets. She needs our care. I sit at a table of five war veterans. Many are disabled, most suffer from emotional traumas like PTSD. All are homeless. They have come to have a free breakfast at a community event. One notices my purity ring. He asks me about it, and we dive into a deep conversation about our love for Jesus and his feelings of hopelessness. Last night was his first night to be homeless. He lost his job, he can't find another one. His savings are gone. He has no family to turn to. He needs our compassion.
These stories go on and on. And so does the heartache. My heart won't stop aching. How God's heart must hurt. We are the Body. We are His church. We ask, how can God allow these horrible things to happen? And I believe he whispers back an echo to us. How can we, who claim to love Him, use our platforms as leaders or our wealth or our authority to pursue such worldly things. I want all Jesus, all the time. I can't find how to get there amongst all of the noise.
