Blog Series: Middle East
A look back at the journey God took me on and urged me to write about while I was there.
Feb 1
My day off. A lazy Saturday. Steam rising slowly off tea, looking out the window at skies so blue. Finding comfort in a propane heater and warm socks.
These are the little things I cherish here in the Middle East winter cold. I reminisce about the past week in the Syrian refugee area. I take it all in and I think of how Jesus walked here. How he saw with his eyes the pain; how He heard the stories of the deserted homes, the broken families, and saw past every facade; how He knew the answer to every question and yet people did not receive His solution.
At this moment I have more insight on what losing my life for His sake means. Taking on the life of Christ, living out the task of reconciliation. This mission is vital, urgent, and worth so much more than my own life.
Ripping my eyes open to the truth and leaving my comfort and plans in the past; letting my heart get crushed by the weight of this world and yet still pressing on; living solely moment by moment because I know if I step too far ahead the worries of this world will overcome me.
Living in the wild of this world is where we are called-- in the middle of the dirt, shame, and hurt. To let Christ exchange our spotlights for His lantern. To give him each step, trusting He knows where He is leading us. Crushing the head of our enemy by pressing on into the darkness with God's light of truth. Pushing back enemy lines. Living a life worthy of the call; a life that 'makes no sense'; 'wasting' our lives on the unseen; walking into places no one dares to go; taking on the armor to face the battle; trusting in our Father who sees the whole picture.
Pressing on.
*Picture taken in Petra.
Blog Series: Middle East
A look back at the journey God took me on and urged me to write about while I was there.
Jan 17
As I sit here in the cold living room listening to the call to prayer go off at noon, yet again, I can't help but be reminded of the hurt and pain this religion has stemmed from. From the time Muhammad started seeking for his identity, for a way to change the world, for a way to run from the pain of being orphaned in a culture that considers you as dirt without a family name... I can't help but be saddened by the reality of this religion-- the hopelessness that it holds inside; the holes it leaves in followers' hearts as they seek to fit into a culture where identity is everything. Yet, what is a Muslims' identity? Identity in being a Muslim, and that is that? What does that mean to them? I've seen the eyes of those who are still seeking for something more. Seeking for a place of their own in this world. I see the pain and hurt of their lives in between the fabric of the burka that lays over their face. Hiding. Hiding their pain and their beauty, all in one... yet having so much life at the same time. A life hidden. A life suppressed. Oppressed.
The call to prayer continues.
It gives me a deep sense of darkness, and yet hope as well. The sun shines in the room. Hope because it lives in me. The hope I hold in Christ is all I can hold onto in a land that is not my own. A place where people stare, whistle and wonder... wondering why I am immersed in their culture and why I have come. Little do they know, nor do I know, how much hope is hidden within me. Yet, it isn't me at all. I guess you don't realize how much joy you truly have inside until you come to a place where you see it being completely ripped from those who have no identity in Christ. A place full of lies, fear, and misunderstanding. A place rejected and torn.
Torn hearts. Torn families.
Yet, as the call to prayer continues, the sun still stands and shines on this land. A glimmer of hope. A lightness in the midst of heaviness. I breathe again. I hope again. I pray for this land and I see light over it and in it and through the eyes of those who have found hope; who've found refuge in a man. A man they call Isa. Who I've also come to know as Isa; Jesus. Our Messiah. Our savior. Our God who came to unite us all no matter what we call ourselves or how we translate His name.
I see unity and reconciliation, and He is glorious. Hamdulillah.
*Humdulillah- Arabic for "Praise God".
