blessings & new beginnings

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A little over a month ago I sat at a corner table in Soundview Café at Pike Place Market, overlooking Elliott Bay–Olympic Mountains brilliantly lit up by the sun streaming through the window over my left shoulder…the hustle and bustle of Pike Place Market a pleasant distant soundtrack to my afternoon…Northwest clam chowder, market spice tea in an individual teapot…and a potentially monumental decision weighing on my heart.

Would I leave this place, accept a unique job offer and move back across the country to the Metro DC area?

[Spoiler alert: I’m writing from my bedroom in Virginia.]

As I sat there journaling and talking with Jesus I began to realize once again how truly blessed I am.  I say that not in any boastful manner, but rather as a testimony to just how GOOD our God is.

I was blessed that January day with incredible views of the Olympic and Cascade mountain ranges, Mt. Baker and Mt. Rainier.  But every day I’m blessed by–

My family: our unit of three finds adventure in the littlest things

My sisters: biologically unrelated but very truly sistersDeepening Friendships:A Warm and Welcoming Church Family (as represented by this precious little one):

God’s majesty in His Creation:

God’s love for His children in the culture of a city:And while these blessing are wonderful, they are just that…blessings. Sometimes God calls us to leave, to say good-bye, to make a change.  As I came to see and understand, God was indeed calling me to say yes, to leave Seattle, to begin something new.  He has continued to show me in beautiful ways that this is the path He has chosen for me for this season of life.  And that these blessings are still a part of my life, just geographically distant.  So rather than being saddened by being far from them, I should be grateful for their continued (albeit changed) presence in my life.  God’s love—and blessings—know no geographical bounds.

So yes, as my spoiler alert revealed, I’ve moved back East.  A few days ago I took a five-hour flight clear across the country to start a new leg of my journey.  For this season, I’m living with a wonderful family of four just outside Washington, D.C. in Virginia serving as their family assistant (the Mom works at International Justice Mission, where I interned last fall).  A very brief synopsis of my role: a combination of playing with and chasing after two little kiddos, while also serving a more personal assistant-type role.  I’m excited to see what all God has in store for me here – what would He like to teach me?  How does He desire for me to grow?  What would He like to show me about His dreams for me?

I know whatever it is, it is sure to be a blessing.  I guess we’ll all just have to stay tuned.

the other side to the Superbowl

Every year Superbowl weekend arrives, one team is named victor, the commercials are judged on a scale of “epic” to “that was lame” and then…it’s over.  We celebrate victory, or mourn defeat, but really for the spectator, it’s over.

But it’s not over, not for everyone.

Every year thousands of women and girls are trafficked to the event location for the express purpose of sexual exploitation.  That means that this weekend, women and children are being exploited in Indiana.  And it’s not their choice to be there.  Pimps actively work the flesh trade, moving girls from city to city, getting the best bang for their buck.

Here’s an article that gives a few more details: http://www.christianpost.com/news/super-bowl-volunteers-prepare-to-stop-pimps-sex-traffickers-68295/

Now, I’m not blaming the Superbowl.  I’m not saying it’s the Superbowl’s fault that this rampage of trafficking is happening.  But I am saying that we need to be in prayer.  Prayer for those being exploited, but also for those who would be demanding their services, or making money off of their exploitation.  Fortunately, and thanks be to God, Indiana recently passed a more proactive anti-human trafficking law.  And past Superbowl weekends have seen an increase in arrests. 

But this is still a huge issue.  One that we rarely even consider.  I mean, it’s the Superbowl.  You can’t get more American than that, right?

wait

Have you ever thought about how much time we spend waiting?  Whether that’s waiting in traffic or waiting for your food at a restaurant, waiting for high school to be over, for college to be over, or waiting to find that perfect job.  Maybe it’s waiting to find the perfect soul-mate with whom you’ll spend the rest of your life.  Or maybe it’s just waiting for the laundry to be done so you can go to bed.  For many, the underlying assumption is that waiting time is wasted time.  Either way, you’re waiting.  And you’re doing a lot of it.

Sometimes waiting is more fun than other times, though, am I right?  I mean, waiting can also be full of anticipation and excitement.  Waiting to hear good news, waiting for the birth of a new baby, waiting for the sunrise. 

What if we treated all waiting as “good” waiting?  As expectant waiting?

My last Sunday in DC I heard a terrific sermon at Church of the Advent, the church I’d been attending most of the fall.  As we entered into the season of Advent (the liturgical season in the Church leading up to Christmas) the Pastor appropriately spoke to us on waiting, but not just any kind of waiting – waiting in eager expectation.  The key point: Moments spent waiting on God are moments of inestimable worth.  Really, we’re ALL waiting, for something far greater than clean laundry.  You see, since the time of sin and the Fall (Genesis 3) we’ve been in spiritual exile, waiting to go Home, to our eternal Home in Heaven with God.  Getting what we’re waiting for (that job, that husband, that food) doesn’t fulfill us entirely because until the exile is ended, until we are restored in the New Heaven and the New Earth, we’re still waiting.  All waiting is ultimately waiting for Jesus to come again.  Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

What impact does this understanding have on how we wait?  This eternal waiting should have an impact on how we wait every day.  First, wait in full assurance of God’s promises – hopeful, anticipatory expectation.  Secondly, wait and live as though you have a King; the Messiah has come and will come again.  Thirdly, and this is so important, understand that God’s purposes often include waiting.  Exile is not a time where we are cut off from God, but a time of hard service that has a purpose.  Waiting does not mean you’ve been abandoned; God is present, trustworthy and intentional.  He does not leave you to wait because He has some sick and twisted game to play on you.  No, waiting has a purpose.  Lastly, God will provide for all your needs while you wait.  The book of Isaiah is full of waiting – waiting for the Savior, waiting for relief from captors, waiting for a return from exile.  But God provides throughout it all.

Waiting is both an eternal thing and a day-to-day reality.  Waiting in eager expectancy of what God is revealing.  In some ways, the true point is walking with God–endurance.

As I left my time at IJM I felt like I was truly entering into my own personal season of Advent, my own season of waiting.  It could last a few weeks, or a few months, or…longer.  But it was to be a time of waiting on God – drawing from the Psalmists to be strong, take heart, and wait on the Lord.  Waiting to see what my next season of life would look like – job, location, community.  This beautiful reminder at church, though, helped me see anew that our whole life is a season of waiting.  Waiting in eager expectancy for Christ’s return.  And somehow, the day-to-day waiting doesn’t seem so intimidating when viewed through that lens.

I have a devotional book my Mom gave me a while ago called Jesus Lives by Sarah Young.  Oftentimes it serves as a general reminder of a truth I’d forgotten, or helps me see an aspect of faith with fresher eyes.  Sometimes, though, and this is really cool, the devotional I end up reading one day speaks straight to the core of something I’m challenging with that day, speaks straight to the core of what message I need to hear from God at that point in time.  A little something to share from a recent reading:

“To receive My peace, you must change your grasping, controlling stance to one of openness and trust.  Grasping and controlling are your means of trying to feel safe.  However, such an approach actually hurts you and works against you: The more you manipulate and maneuver for control, the more anxious you become.  Rather than striving for peace of mind through these means, abandon Yourself to Me.  MY HAND IS THE ONLY THING YOU CAN GRASP WITHOUT DAMAGING YOUR SOUL.  Let Me help you open your hands and receive all that I have for you.  What you do with your body can help or hinder what goes on in your soul.  When you realize you are grasping for control, become aware of your body language.  Intentionally open your hands, releasing your concerns to Me and inviting Me to take charge.  Open your heart and mind as well, as you lift your hands to Me.  You are now in a good position to receive My many blessings, not the least of which is awareness of My Presence.  Enjoy the Peace that flows out from Me while you bask in the Light of My Love.  Then, when you move back into your activities, consciously grasp My hand in childlike dependence.  For I am the Lord your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, ‘Do not fear; I will help you.’ (Isaiah 41:13). 

Wait–in eager expectation–grasping the hand of God.

seasons

It seems that every year January 1st sneaks up on me.  I’m amazed that another year has come and gone.  You’d think I’d realize the pattern, not be so shocked every time we count down to midnight and fireworks explode off the Space Needle.  And yet…here I am.  January 2012.  Surprise!

As I reflect on 2011 I’m grateful for what a blessed year it really was.  Not without its challenges, pain or confusion of course.  But overall a very blessed year with what I see as three very distinct seasons of life.  The winter/spring was post-HNGR, re-entry, final semester of college, graduation.  Then came a summer of home, family, and mountain climbing.  The third leg of the journey took me to DC where I learned, made new friendships, and adventured in a new way. 

It was hard to see that season end.  Really hard.  I made some incredible friends there – both among interns and staff – who I wasn’t ready to say good-bye to.  I loved being part of IJM on that level – hearing live and confidential updates during morning prayer, sitting in on Aftercare meetings where important policy was written and re-written, spending time every day with incredibly wise and gracious people.  But I had signed up for September 12^th through December 9^th.  I knew what to expect.  And still, somehow December 5^th snuck up on me, bringing with it my last week at IJM.  Full of final project details, meetings, coffee dates, evaluations, celebrations.  It flew by in a whirlwind.  Thursday afternoon hit and I walked out of that office and on towards the DC Benefit Dinner.  It all seemed so surreal.

Sidenote: I don’t think I’ve ever said it before, but IJM knows how to celebrate.  I mean, really celebrate.  Whether it’s cake during morning prayer because God just did something awesome, or the two separate intern celebrations we had that final week (both full of encouragement, joy and laughter) or the swanky Benefit Dinner with over a 1000 attendees, IJM knows how to celebrate.

Although our last official day in the office was Thursday the 8^th, that Friday we were privileged enough to share in the December Staff Prayer Retreat.  IJM knows how to celebrate, but they also really know how to worship, reflect, pray, and listen together.  So Staff Prayer Retreat?  Call me eager.  Especially when we discovered that JARS OF CLAY (my all-time favorite band, by the way) would be leading us in worship!  I could go into tremendous detail telling you about how awesome that was, or how great it was to be with all those dear IJM people on last time, but instead I’ll spare you my hysterics (JARS OF CLAY!!!!!) and just say this:

As I sat at my table surrounded by dear friends who had been complete strangers just three months prior, listening to Jars of Clay play and to Gary Haugen and others speak on patience (the IJM theme of the year) everything just felt…right.  Like this was how it was absolutely meant to end.  You see, Jars of Clay has been incredibly instrumental in my faith journey.  For practically every season of my life, there’s a corresponding Jars of Clay song.  No joke.  So as I sat there letting the music wash over me, reflecting, listening, praying, sharing, it felt so complete.  The craziness and stress of the week washed away.  This season was ending; it was time.  And God overwhelmed me by allowing Jars of Clay to send me onwards, to end that season with me.  It was still hard to say good-bye.  Tearful farewells (ahem, see you later’s).  Hugs all around.  Prayers for one another.  One last attempt at bubble tea.  But it was also the right time.  Be at peace, my soul, for the Lord has been good to you. 

If I had to use only one word to describe my time at IJM…BLESSING.  An abundant blessing.  Thank you, Father, and thank you to all the incredible staff and interns who blessed me during my time as an intern.

Fall 2011 Intern Class from Start to Finish

p.s. here’s a photo of me with JARS OF CLAY taken on a friend’s phone, couldn’t pass it up :]

 

 

Want to know what I’m headed towards next?  New blog coming soon.  Teaser: “Wait.”  No really, that’s what it’s titled, not that you have to wait… hahaha. ha.

just a kid in an ice cream store

Take what I shared in my last post, rewind about a month to an afternoon in late November.  The interns gather in a conference room and are joined by none other than Gary Haugen himself (the President/CEO/Founder of IJM) for a little seminar I’d like to call “LIFE 101 with Gary.” [reason #678 why IJM is awesome]

An afternoon of paradigm shifts and revelations ensues.

Now, the hour we spent gaining from his wisdom cannot be easily summed up for a blog.  Honestly, I’m not that good of a writer.  But I want to share a few thoughts with you, because I think it’s full of wisdom that is in need of sharing.  And…it is a continuation of sorts of my last post which was, after all, “to be continued.”  The connection, however, is somewhat open to interpretation.  :]

Silence is freedom; freedom to choose.

How frequently do we plead for, nay, demand answers from God?  Lord, what do you want me to do with my life?  What are Your next steps for me?  What am I supposed to do next?  We hear silence.  And, to be oh so eloquent, we FREAK OUT.  Majorly.  What does the silence mean?  Am I not in tune enough with God’s calling to hear what He has for me?  PANIC.

What if we didn’t freak out, but instead took the silence as reassuring.  Reassurance that silence is freedom, the freedom to choose. 

Let me draw up a little analogy for you.  (And by me I mean Gary Haugen.)  The Ice Cream Store analogy.  Yup, it’s good enough to be bolded.  Imagine a Father taking His son or daughter into the ice cream store.  In the display case sit dozens of flavors – chocolate, strawberry, cheese (I’m making this a Filipino ice cream store, just for fun).  Now, the Father doesn’t have one flavor in mind that the child must choose.  There isn’t one single flavor that would make the child happy.  No, the Father gives His child the freedom to choose what flavor of ice cream her heart desires.  If the child tried to go next door to the hardware store and eat fertilizer…well, then the Father would certainly stop her.  But in the ice cream store, there is freedom to choose.  And the Father wants the child to choose what would make her happy, what would bring joy and thanksgiving. 

I will stop right here and tell you that no, I have not found my new life calling to work at Baskin Robbins.  Although these new hip fro-yo places are tempting.

Seriously, though, what would it mean to imagine God not as a Father who has this one path we must chose but rather offers us a variety of choices, knowing that He can bring about His will in our lives through whatever means He wants to?  And that He has chosen to allow us the freedom to choose?  Suddenly silence isn’t so foreboding. 

I think many of us are paralyzed by the fear that we’re going to pick the wrong path, make the wrong decision, somehow miss out on God’s perfect plan for our lives.  Miss Mr. Right walking by.  Miss the perfect job because we were pursuing something else.  In reality, though, and most importantly in Scripture, when God has a specific task that He requires someone to do, He’s pretty clear about it.  When God has something very specifically planned for a person (i.e. Moses leading the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt) He doesn’t mess around (i.e. speaks through a burning bush).  He is clear.

Silence isn’t a lack of response from God; it’s freedom to choose.  Freedom to live a life that is seeking God and yearning to draw closer to His heart.  As long as we are seeking God (and not going next door for the fertilizer), He just might present us with more than one option and give us complete freedom to choose one over the other.  God will lead, direct, or nudge as He sees fit, but silence is not something to be feared.

So, how is this a “to be continued” post?  I guess…I’m not so fearful, which is interesting because I’ve never considered myself a fearful person.  And yet, as I’ve spent the fall asking God “what am I supposed to do next?” I’ve gotten a good number of closed doors and dead ends, but not a whole lot of clear directions towards one thing or another.  So this silence, this freedom, means I can love DC life and still hear Jesus calling me to love the prostituted woman.  I can feel free to follow where my heart guides me, and not worry that I’m missing God’s perfect plan for me.  Because, really, God’s plan for me is that I would draw closer to Him, which can be done from a DC office building or from a street corner downtown Seattle after dark or…well we’ll just have to wait and see.

chasing

Well, hey there friends, it’s been a while.  A month, more or less.  The last few weeks of my internship were great, but incredibly busy.  That’s right, were.  Somehow, December 9^th came and went and my time as an IJM intern is complete.  My desk is cleared of its photos, emptied of its snacks and office supplies.  My projects are finished and turned in.  My suits are hung up, my heels packed away (for now?).  Although I want to share more with you about “the end,” “the now,” and “the next,” I’ve actually had two or three half-written blogs ruminating in my head these past few weeks that I’d still like to share with cyberspace (but mostly with you).  So with that being said…

As I think I’ve mentioned before, my main project this fall has been researching reintegration, or how do survivors of sexual exploitation and other forms of violent oppression re-enter society post-aftercare?  Sadly, it’s just as complicated as it sounds.  My writing and research looked at the main barriers to successful reintegration, best practices among aftercare providers, and recommendations for how to improve the process of reintegration.  Out of all the information I gathered, a few key points stuck out to me, one of which I’d like to share, because, well, I can’t stop thinking about it.

Survivors of sexual exploitation face so many challenges to successful reintegration, but one of the main barriers is societal stigma.  There’s a lot of misunderstanding and prejudice surrounding sexual exploitation/prostitution (both here and abroad, I might add).  Families and communities are often quite prejudiced towards returning family members, even persecuting them for their pasts.  I could go into great detail about the nature of this prejudice and the problems and pain it causes survivors during reintegration, but instead I’d like to share one very simple example with you. 

In Khmer, the language of Cambodia, the term for prostitute is “srey koich,” or broken woman.  I read this in an article my first week on the job and to this day, I cannot shake it.  Srey koich, broken woman.  The very language—the core of communication—tells a woman who’s been sexually exploited that she is worthless.

You are broken.

You can’t be fixed.

There’s no redemption in that whatsoever.  Once a prostitute, always a broken woman…

I think part of why this has captured my heart so much is because I know it’s not true.  From my time in the Philippines as well as from my hope in the redemption of the Cross, I know this is not true.  What is broken can be made whole.  The past is not the future.  And these women and children need someone to tell them that they are not forever branded in the eyes of their Savior.

You are forgiven.

You are clean.

You can be whole.

Someone needs to tell them that. 

In all of this I’m realizing that this is what I want to do.  Who I am.  I want to see these women, these children, see themselves as whole, not broken.  As loved, beloved, complete. 

I’m wearing a suit every day, commuting on the metro, exploring DC, working at IJM, and I’m happy.  Really, truly happy.

And yet, “the Jesus of prostitutes keeps chasing my soul, Jesus of prostitutes keeps calling me home.”  (Mat Kearney, of course)  And I don’t know what this means fully…

To be continued.

it’s just like riding a…bus?

I’ve spent most of today on a bus.

Actually, I’ve spent a good portion of my life riding buses.  No matter where you live in this world, you’ll get somewhere by bus at some point.  Growing up in Peru that meant overnight Bus Camas from Chiclayo to the capital city of Lima with bingo games, eye masks, and Adventures in Odyssey on my Walkman.  Travelling through India 3 ½ years ago that meant dealing with a manic, high, Osama bin Laden-loving, not fully clothed, delusional man on the winding mountain roads going up into the Himalayas.

Rhotang Pass, India

About this time last year, my parents came to visit me while I was living in Manila and we journeyed together to Mountain Province where they had lived and served before I was born. [Want to read more about that trip?].  This journey meant riding somewhat worn down buses from Baguio City to Guinsaden – increasingly cool air blowing in through the open windows as the scenery turned ever greener, Dad’s semi-constant proclamations of how much everything had changed since they lived there 21 years prior, including how much better the buses and roads were now, and an awkward stop in the middle of a small town for me to get out and pee.  Yes, everyone on the bus knew that’s what was happening.  And yes, it was appropriate just now for me to say “pee” instead of “go to the restroom;” I’m just being Filipina. (Interestingly, Dad is just finishing up 2 weeks of teaching in Mountain Province and was riding these very same buses just today…half a world away.  And in an ironic turn of events, one of his buses had wireless while my MegaBus with “Free WIFI” advertised on the side does not.  Really?!)

the bus from Baguio City to Guinsaden

But this weekend, this weekend it means barreling down the highway on the MegaBus watching the rolling hills of Ohio, Pennsylvania and Maryland pass me by.  Thinking. Praying. Journaling. Sleeping. Working. Reading.

I spent the weekend with my dear friend Shannon in Ohio – laughing, baking goodies, cooking breakfast, talking, walking in the beautiful fall weather, and just sharing life together.  Shannon was diagnosed three years ago with osteosarcoma, a rare form of bone cancer.  She’s still fighting.  And seriously, she’s still the strongest person I know – to face so much and yet to have this unwavering faith in God.  Inspirational, that’s what she is.

a walk in the woods with Shannon

It was a great weekend of being together, a weekend I am grateful we were able to have, but now it’s back to reality.  After a long day of travel – including four hours of hanging out in Pittsburgh – I’ll be back to work tomorrow morning gearing up for the final month of my internship.  There are projects to finish, meetings to schedule, adventures to have, people to see, and job applications to complete.

Pittsburgh Vagabond

But for now, for now I’m just a vagabond riding the bus.  And there’s something so right about that.

* this was written earlier on the bus but due to the aforementioned internet restrictions, is being published from home :]

the f-word

No, not that f-word.  Get your mind out of the gutter, people.  I’m talking about FUTURE.  Yes, that f-word, largely unspoken for fear of causing mass panic among the interns.  But really, for a month now it’s been a hot topic of conversation.  What are you doing after the internship?  Do you have any plans?

A few weeks ago my parents came to visit me in D.C. and we spent Sunday afternoon sitting in my favorite little hip D.C. coffee shop—shout out for Tryst—and I just started spewing my ideas/stress/anxiety/trust/desires.  Being the great parents that they are—shout out for my parents—they listened, letting me verbally process these thoughts and emotions I hadn’t allowed myself to truly feel.  Sharing my newly discovered love for D.C., my hopes of finding a job here that could combine my passions and strengths, all while acknowledging how terrifying these hopes actually are, how much I would still miss Seattle if I settled here.

And then came the wise words of Paul Gossman: “You have a great safety net; step out on the tightrope.”

My dad loves metaphors.  Loves ‘em.

So does Mat Kearney, in case you were wondering:  “Baby it’s like we’re walking on a wire through the fear / take my hand, we’ll get there / sooner or later, I swear, we’re gonna make it, gonna make it / the fear inside, the hills we’ve climbed / the tears this side of heaven / all these dreams inside of me / I swear we’re gonna get there / sooner or later, we’re gonna make it.” (Sooner or Later, Mat Kearney)

I trust that God has a plan for my life, a plan for what happens next.  I’ve spent months reciting that motto.  Doing my best to live by it.  If I’m honest with myself, though, I’ll admit that this is a lot easier to say (especially when faced with the question “what are you doing next?”) than it is to believe wholeheartedly.  I was blessed with a conversation last week that helped bring things into focus.  A very wise woman in my life helped draw the important distinction between trusting in God’s plan/trusting He has a plan, and trusting God.  We are not called to trust God’s plans, but to trust Him, to lay everything at His feet in total surrender to His will.  To step out onto the tightrope not trusting in the rope itself, but trusting in the One who made the rope, who made me, and who provides the safety net below.  When has He failed me?  Never. 

And so I’m stepping out.  Out onto the tightrope.  I don’t yet have a solid answer to the question “what plans do you have?” but I will in due time.  Most importantly, He already knows my future, where I’ll be and how I’ll get there.  There’s no need to block this f-word from my vocabulary.  I can smile at the future (Proverbs 31:25).

history in the making

I am a modern day abolitionist. 

About a week and a half ago myself and a few of the other interns participated in the DC STOP MODERN SLAVERY WALK, held on the Mall [for those of you who don’t know DC this is not a place to shop, but rather where all the monuments are – Capitol Building on one end, Washington Monument in the center, and Lincoln Memorial at the other end].  Not only did we walk in the not-so-much-a-protest-but-more-an-awareness-raising-event, but IJM also had a table at the Resources Fair that we the interns got to staff.

The morning started out entirely too early—no coffee and very little sleep the night before—which wasn’t looking like a good combination for anyone involved.  Despite my strong dislike of mornings and perhaps due instead to my nap on the metro [which was, unfortunately, documented], Kathryn and I made it down to the walk where we met up with the other interns participating and my friend from Wheaton, Elizabeth.  A lot of logistical things happened at this point [cue cutting to the chase because that part is boring] and soon we were off. 

A group of a thousand at least [have you ever noticed I’m horrible at approximating numbers of people?], all wearing bright red shirts starting walking the path set for us. 

First stop – the Lincoln Memorial.  What an incredible experience.  I kept looking around and saying, “guys, do you realize where we are?!”  The Lincoln Memorial is definitely my favorite.  Something about it is so stoic, and yet so accessible at the same time.  I love Lincoln; he was my favorite president in late elementary school when I went through my “read everything about the Civil War phase.”  I still think he’s pretty great.  Mainly because of what he stood for.  The Emancipation Proclamation.  Unity.  Human Rights.  And here we were, on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, the very steps where speeches like Martin Luther King Jr’s “I Have a Dream” were made…modern day abolitionists. 

Appropriately so, the next part of the walk took us right by the newly opened Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial.  Can you say powerful?!  At its core, modern day slavery is really about violent oppression and injustice.  Whether that’s forcing people with different skin color to drink from separate drinking fountains or forcing a little girl into prostitution, they’re the same – oppression, injustice.  We’ve come a long way since MLK’s dreams, and much of what he dreamed has come true.  But there are still millions of people in this world judged by their skin color, their gender, their economic status, their birth order.  And we will not step aside and watch it happen.

We made our way around and back to the starting point having passed the Roosevelt and Jefferson monuments on the way.  When we arrived back to the Resource Fair people were swarming the IJM table—asking questions, signing petitions, and picking up brochures.  We’d tell IJM’s story and our own story to one person only to turn around a minute later and give it again.  But it was so encouraging!  Hundreds of people signed the petition to move the TVPRA forward in Congress.  The same amount or more picked up flyers, asked about casework, internships and our mission.  We were privileged to be part of that moment for a few when suddenly everything clicked.  I mean, they obviously knew about modern day slavery because they were at this walk.  But suddenly they got why it mattered, why God cares, why IJM is fighting the way they are.

As things began to wrap up at the Resource Fair, the emcee took the stage, thanked everyone for walking and introduced…TIM BE TOLD!  [See my previous post if you have no idea why this is so incredibly exciting].  As I wrote previously, their song “Just Another Man” haunted me for days.  Well, to hear the lead singer share about the process of writing that song and then to sing it on that stage in the shadow of the Washington Monument, with hundreds of abolitionists listening…that was deeply moving.

That day I was a true modern day abolitionist, an activist in the best sense of the word.  I walked where history has been made.  But more importantly, I was part of history in the making.

be still.

| I’m full of thoughts tonight.  These thoughts…will they make sense on paper?  Will these thoughts of my heart even translate to the page?  These questions, convictions, comfort?  It is in writing that I connect the dots in my own head.

But I’m afraid to share it with you.  Afraid that to you it will all seem like mere ramblings.  That it will seem purely tangential.  And yet, here I sit.  Alone in my room—the peace and calm my soul so desires.  Thinking, processing, contemplating, and hopefully sharing with some semblance of coherency.

| We start every work day at IJM with 30 minutes of “Stillness.”  Time to sit before the Throne of God; to pray, journal, meditate, commune with our Maker.  I have grown to so appreciate these times with my Savior.  Sitting in one of the conference rooms in the office, looking out the window at I-395 and the Pentagon just beyond it—Mt. Pentagon, as my friend Jocelyn calls it to help me feel more at home. :] This stillness time is an invitation to communication with God, who is always present despite my distracted heart and my short attention span.  I think and write a lot about darkness in the world and how His light shines into and through these places.  But there is darkness in my own heart, too.  I am a sinner, imperfect, weak, and easily distracted.  In order to be filled more fully with His light, I must confront my own darkness.

“Yes, I know You are great
That You’re a good God, and You are love
How much more will it take to undo the damage that I have done?
Please conquer these demons and the darkness inside
Shine Your light on this poor heart of mine.” (Tim Be Told, “Lament”)

 

| Yesterday brought with it torrential downpours.  The entire day, really, I felt like I was in a typhoon – sitting at my desk watching the world of dark skies and rainfall outside my window.  All day except for one moment, early in the morning during stillness, when the skies opened up briefly and the most glorious rainbow filled the sky.  A powerful reminder that He invites me to “be still and know” that He is God (Psalm 46:10).  Be still.  Or, as some translations write it, cease striving.  The last two days were full of busy work projects as well as some personal things to sort through and yet…God continued to bring that rainbow to mind, reminding me to cease striving, because He has already saved me, He has already brought light into my personal sinful darkness.  I am a sinner saved by His grace and for that I am eternally grateful.

“For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord.  Live as children of light (for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth) and find out what pleases the Lord.  Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them.” (Ephesians 5:9-11)

 

| I heard a song yesterday that grabbed me…haunts me, really.  I’m including the lyrics and a link to the song on YouTube.  I strongly encourage you to listen to it, soak it in, and be moved to a greater understanding of the darkness in this world that breaks God’s heart, and should break our own as well.

“Just Another Man” by Tim Be Told — http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y8b9pEIYlAA&feature=related

“She’s only twelve and sells for thirty dollars
And that man is old enough to be her father
He holds her down while darkness takes her over
And he steals her soul
On a concrete floor she lays her head
She doesn’t dream ’cause she’s already dead
While the queens and kings in their feather beds sleep so soundly
All the world’s a hole and I am falling
Too deaf to hear her calling
I wish that I could set her free but I’m just another man
There’s nothing I can do
He’s only five; A child and a soldier
They will make him kill his people when he’s older
And late at night he calls out for his mother
But he took her life
He’s pretending to be brave instead
But his family’s already dead
I cover up my ears and I turn my head
While he screams so loudly
My heart is open but my hands are hiding
Afraid I’ll feel you dying
I wish that I could touch your soul but I’m just another man
There’s nothing I can do
Father, hear our broken cries from a world so fallen!
Help us see that in one Man our hope will never die
And His people call Him Savior Jesus, Love Abounding
Give me strength to do all that I can
I am not just another man.”

 

There is so much darkness—in this world but also in my own heart.  The first verse of the song says that “darkness takes her over.”  The singer struggles throughout the song with his own darkness—fear, resignation, hopelessness.  But in the end, it is our Savior that overcomes the darkness, a “hope (that) will never die.”  I can’t shake this song.  I can’t shake its message.  I can’t shake these stories and the thousands like them.  I can’t shake my memories from Manila.  And in that, I must cease striving and know that He is God.