I Will Not Be Quiet

Over the last year and a half I have read hundreds of articles, watched hours and hours of the news (including the primary and presidential debates), and have been involved in more discussions than I can even remember at this point.  I consider myself to be, at the very least, moderately educated when it comes to current politics.  I preface this post with that information because I'm really not interested in a debate or argument.  That is not my purpose here.  I'm well aware of what has taken place.  My purpose is to be a voice.  I may not be as articulate as many of my friends and family, but I will not be quiet.

I will not be quiet because to do so would only add to the horror that we are currently living.  To do so would be permissive.  To do so would go against everything I have ever known to be Truth.

I will be the first to admit that I grew up in an extremely privileged, predominately white area and was given everything I ever needed and wanted.  I never went without anything because my parents worked tirelessly to give us the childhood they never had.  I have been given every opportunity to be educated and successful.  On top of that, I was introduced to Christ around the age of 13 or so and quite honestly have never looked back since.  I fell in love with His Word.  The fact that Jesus died for me was mind-boggling and awe-inspiring.  I couldn't get enough of Christ, so I studied the Word, I listened to teaching, I engaged in discussion, and I learned what it meant to be an image-bearer of Christ, what it meant to live a Christ-like life.  I observed the life of Jesus and His relationships with His closest disciples, with sinners, and with those who despised Him.  I became sensitive to His commands, taking them very seriously.

As a result, much of my life has been dedicated to serving Jesus.  Let me be clear: it hasn't always been pretty and I've messed up A LOT (yeah, I'm a big time sinner), but I have tried to walk in obedience.  So after attending a small evangelical university and working in youth ministry for a time, I felt called to Africa where I served for two separate year-long terms as a missionary.  In that time, I worked with people from nearly 30 different countries and had the joy of learning at least a little bit about each culture.  (I worked at an international school for part of my time, hence the vast variety of cultures.)  There are some that I learned more about than others.  For example, much of my time was spent with former child soldiers and refugees from South Sudan, Somalia, Ethiopia, Eritrea, Sudan, Rwanda, Burundi, Democratic Republic of Congo, and the list goes on, along with the various religions represented.

Many of these dear ones have come to know Jesus and many have amazing stories of how God revealed Himself to them in unlikely and miraculous ways.  When you sit and listen to the first-hand accounts of 6 different former child soldiers and lost boys, you can't not be changed and deeply impacted.  Absolute horror becomes real when you look into the eyes of those affected by such violence.  And the refugees who recounted their stories of survival and resilience brought me to my knees.  Yet in their deep pain and suffering, I was welcomed in as a daughter and as a sister.  I was made a part of many different family units.  Homes and hearts were opened.  In fact, my heart now has two homes on two continents.  Some of these beautiful brothers and sisters have been resettled here in the U.S. over the last few years.

Because of this, I will not be quiet.

Flash forward five years to present day: I have this terrible habit of checking my phone first thing in the morning, while I'm still laying bed.  I think I justify it by first reading the daily devo in my email.  Wednesday morning I was met with the results of the election.  And I cried.  No, I didn't just cry.  I wept.  I figured it was going to end that way when I went to bed on Tuesday, but the reality of it was heartbreaking that morning.  Pictures of my loved ones flashed through my brain and I sobbed.  My sister and I exchanged a few snapchats expressing our grief and our fear, especially for her daughters, my nieces who happen to be two of the most beautiful, bi-racial girls around.  The weeping continued as I thought of other dear friends and family who are people of color, who are a part of the LGBTQ community, and the Muslim community.
 
As I looked at the news and social media, I found that we weren't alone.  The expressions of anger, sadness, and fear filled my various newsfeeds and my tears kept flowing.  There was also much rejoicing, followed by proud statements that boasted of a victory for the evangelicals.  All I could think was, "how?"  How did this happen?  I listened to his words, I observed his actions, I was shocked by his flippant attitude towards so many.  How could a man who exemplifies such intense hatred, racism, neglect, abuse, etc be elected to lead this nation?  He does not represent the people... not the people I know.  So, how?

(Let me add in that if you voted for him, I love you and I don't think you're ignorant, racist, or abusive people.  I know that some have decided that to be true of you, but I refuse that narrative.)

The amount of violence and hate speech that has erupted as a result of the election is alarming.  I'm not talking about the protests though.  I'm talking about those who now feel safe, confident, and justified in speaking hate towards people of color, Muslims, the LGBTQ community, etc.  To many, the president-elect offers space for such language and action.  The KKK marched on Wednesday celebrating the victory.  Someone graffiti'd a swastika with the words "Make America White Again."  Pretending that this isn't happening, that this isn't the reality that we're now living is completely irresponsible.  These are the real experiences of minorities in a free land.  If you've not encountered such hate, you're counted among the privileged.

As a woman, I'm horrified.  As a Christian, I'm horrified.  As a daughter, aunt, sister, neighbor, I'm horrified.  How is this acceptable?  The fear and grief many are experiencing is very real!  I've sat quietly for a few days now partially because of shock, partially because I was made to feel foolish for having such a strong response.  "Why can't people get over it?"  "So what?  He's our president-elect. It's nothing to cry over."  "Millennials are so dramatic about everything."  "Protesting is so ignorant and pathetic."  "Libtards are so weak." (By the way, "libtards" is a horribly offensive term to both liberals and the disability community.)

I can't just "get over it" because the fear is founded in reality.  I am scared.  The youth I work with are scared.  A man has spoken hate and made promises regarding the removal of certain people and certain rights.  I weep because I've seen people threatened and abused as a result of him.  I weep because the Church remains silent, thus allowing it to continue.  I'll say it again: to be silent is to be permissive.  I weep because many who claim to follow Jesus mock those who are hurting, scared, and alone.  Showing emotion and caring for others is not weakness, but strength.  I will not be told how I'm allowed to react or feel about something and I will not be told to be quiet.  (By the way... I'm a few years too old to be considered a millennial.)

Friends, I have known Jesus in the deepest pits of life-threatening terror and despair through my brothers and sisters both here and around the world.  And I have known Him in great privilege.  I know the Truth.  Many of you know the Truth.  We cannot remain quiet.  To those in fear, I will stand with you.  I will not be quiet.

Broken Relationships

This used to be a forum for me to update my family and friends about my life when I lived in Uganda.  Since then, it's been a place where I've continued to update since my move to the east coast, but it's also been a place where I've vented, reflected, and generally just shared my thoughts, for better or for worse.  At this point, I can't even think about updating everything that's happened since I last posted in May.  If we've been in touch or if we're friends on social media, you are relatively up to date on my life.

To be honest, I shouldn't even be on here today.  The second year of grad school is no joke and I've got two exams, a paper, numerous lectures to listen and respond to, and a book I really should be reading.  (Also, the CUBS are in the WORLD SERIES!!! #FlyTheW)  However, I need to stop today, if only for myself, to reflect for a few minutes.  On my hour-long commute home from class this afternoon I feel like I reached a boiling point on something.  In my theological foundations of counseling class we've been talking about the theology of relationships.  It's got me really reflecting on my own relationships both with God and with others in a way that I haven't done in a long time.

It's been no secret in my life that I love relationships.  I love building new relationships and I really love maintaining long-term relationships.  I'm not satisfied with surface-level interactions.  I like to get to the heart of someone and to really know them... and of course, I like to be known too.  Both time and space have a tendency to cause relationships to fade away and then back for a season and then away again, sometimes causing them to remain away.  Not broken though.  Just away.  Even my relationship with God throughout the years has experienced a bit of a back and forth, though thankfully, never away for an extended period of time.  

There are people I have been friends with for nearly 25 years that slip in and out of my life for no other reason than proximity and life itself.  I've somehow learned to be content with that and have even begun to allow myself grace in that area.  When I have a random phone call with a friend that I haven't spoken to for years, I don't hang up and mourn for what once was, instead I rejoice for the few precious moments of genuine connection.  There is something so safe and comforting about old relationships.  I've discovered that it's when I'm not feeling comfortable and/or safe that I seek out these familiar bonds, hence my recent trip to be with my family.  

Notice though, that I did not include broken relationships in the same category as those that ebb and flow.  I'm not in the least bit comfortable with broken relationships.  I never have been.  Letting go is not my strong suit, even if I know in my heart that that's what's best.  A broken relationship feels like a failure to me; like I've wasted my time and been used or that I've done that very same thing to someone else, which I hate.  Even times when I've been deeply wounded by someone, I still have a tendency to want to cling to that person because I am so uncomfortable with the loss, which I realize is quite unhealthy.  In fact, I can count on one, maybe two hands the amount of relationships that I would put in the "broken" category. 

What ends up happening is that I beat myself up for not doing a better job at keeping the broken (or very lopsided) relationship.  I think of all the things I did (or am doing) wrong.  I think of all of the ways that I should have handled myself differently.  I convince myself that if I were a certain way or fulfilled a certain requirement well for that other person, the relationship would not be broken, that I would not have been used up and tossed out.  Again, being a graduate counseling student, I understand the faulty thinking and inaccurate core beliefs and I'm working on changing them, but what remains is that this is how I experience broken relationships.  My core beliefs dictate how I relate to others.  The things I believe about myself, about God, and about the other person are not aligned well.  

Today, I realized some very deep-seated resentment and hurt that I've been harboring towards God because of unmet relational expectations.  I know that some of my pain comes from my own depravity.  Pride, desire, and disobedience get in the way of hearing truth.  I have allowed this brokenness to settle in and I've spent so much time dwelling on it and allowing it to drive wedges deeper still in some places.  I've allowed it to convince me of my worthlessness.  On my loneliest days, it's been unbearable.  On my best days, it's just been a small, nagging voice.  

Today however, was an illuminating day full of both righteous and unrighteous anger, confession, tears, praise and worship, and silence.  Today, I was reminded where my hope is found.  Don't get me wrong, the pain is still there.  I'm still extremely uncomfortable with relational brokenness, though I don't think that will ever change.  We are designed to be in relationship... in deep fellowship with God and with one another.  When that's broken or in the process of breaking, it's uncomfortable and painful.  This is why unavoidable loss, like death, is so painful: it's a broken relationship.  This wasn't in the original plan.  

"There is no greater love than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends" John 15:13 (NLT).