Wednesday, September 3, 2008

a little bit of august...

I was anxious to see the volume of people coming into Denver for the Democratic National Convention. I was anxious to experience the city pulsing with new life. I was anxious to see how our youth would be treated. I was anxious to make new relationships. I was anxious, and even excited, to witness the protests and rallies. All of this anticipation, but nothing could have prepared me for what I saw as we walked the downtown streets.

“Ask me why YOU deserve to go to HELL!” My heart dropped and I hung my head in shame as I approached the banner waving these poisonous words. Riot police surrounded the group of christians (emphasis on the little “c”), protecting them from the enraged and ever-growing crowd of pedestrians; men, women and children. Other signs that littered the street corner and held up traffic for blocks on the 16th St. Mall read:

“Homo sex is a threat to national security,”
“Looking for change? Then do what Christ said and repent,”
“WARNING: Baby Killing Women, Party Animals, Rebellious Women, So Called Christians, Liberals, Jesus Mockers, Porno Freaks, Muslims, Drunks, Homosexuals, Sex Addicts, Mormons…GOD WILL JUDGE YOU!”

We got closer to the horrifying display and watched in disbelief as insults were hurled into the crowd from the christians. “Can you even read?” they spat with hatred. Accusing questions like, “What cave did you just crawl out of?” and “What planet are you from?” rolled off of their tongues with unbridled anger and self-righteousness.

We watched the spectacle with a growing sense of despair and sadness. I was sick to my stomach. The scene was one of the single most heartbreaking experiences of my life. Where did this attitude come from? They were dragging Jesus’ name through the dirt. I looked helplessly at the throngs of people passing by watching this scene unfold. I have never been bombarded by so many emotions at one time. I felt a heavy sadness because Jesus, for many of these people, was now associated with threatening language and hatred. I felt a raging anger towards those who held the signs; in a single moment, they caused unspeakable damage. I even felt shame. Shame because, since I am a Christian, I was involuntarily associated with this hate rally.

I walked away with my co-workers, some of us were crying. Others, like me, simply walked in silent shock. Above all the emotions – sadness, anger, shame – I felt something else that had a stronger pull. I was motivated and rejuvenated. More than ever I was convinced of my job, and your job, to love. We must re-define Christianity to a watching world. The extreme hate and judgment being passed out in Denver this week must be combated with tactics from the opposite extreme. Thousands of people, after this week, see Christians as people who hate. Period. We have to change this.

I wonder, what if we became a group of people known for the way we love homosexuals? What if we became a group of people known for coming alongside those struggling with addictions? What if we became a group of people known for the way we embrace people of other religions and backgrounds? What if we became a group of people known for the way we love women who have had, or are thinking about having, abortions? What if instead of calling those women murderers, we told them how much they and their children are worth? What if we decided right now, today, to adopt would-be-aborted babies? We tell young women not to have abortions, but are we willing to give them another option?

These questions and so many more filled my head while we walked that day. We passed other protests, some peaceful and some not so friendly, and continued walking toward Civic Center Park. We approached a group of our friends; they jumped up and smothered us in hugs. We talked for a while, making sure that they were doing okay. Then we walked some more, taking in every bit of the historic event. At the intersection of Broadway and Colfax we turned right and cut through the park to escape the busy streets. Anti-war booths and anarchist gatherings dotted the lawn that stretched all the way from the capitol building to the courthouse. People milled about, some watching and others declaring their opinions to anyone who would listen.

Tattooed, dread-locked, hippies relaxed in the sunshine. Droves of police, outfitted in full riot gear with masks down and guns out, stood nearby occasionally walking in single-file through the crowd to make their presence known. I took it all in, amazed by the eclectic group of people. We walked up to the hippie gathering and saw a sign that read “Doc’s Place” and another one that said, “Food not Bombs.” As it turned out, “Doc’s Place” was a volunteer-run, free medical clinic. Anyone could come by and receive limited, but free, medical care. “Food not Bombs” was a group that thought “…dropping food instead of bombs…” was the cool thing to do, so they decided to fix three meals a day for anyone who wanted food. They cooked everything on-site and if you ate, the only requirement was that you wash your own dishes in the provided buckets of soapy water, and then hang them in a tree to dry.

Naturally, it being dinner time and us being really hungry, we hopped in line to get some food. On the menu was some kind of lentil concoction, rice, bread, carrots, and water. I was served by a girl who had obviously not showered in several days (maybe weeks) and was adorned with a variety of tattoos and piercings. She smiled and asked how I was doing. I said I was doing just great and thanked her for the food. In the kitchen was a collection of people, mostly young adults, who seemed to draw energy from each other and the people that they were serving. All of them wore tattered clothes, bandanas (which I learned later was to shield their faces from tear gas and from being identified), unique hair-styles, and back-packs that had obviously seen some miles. There was a nearly even split of guys and girls, with a small but obvious number of people who were transgender. But, that didn’t seem to matter to any of them. Everyone was accepted. It was one of the best meals I have ever shared with anyone.

Friends, I witnessed two very different groups of people this week. One group was filled with hate, judgment, and self-righteousness. The other group was loving, accepting, and humble. One group was insulting and abrasive and the other group just wanted to serve food and take care of people. One group called themselves Christians, the other group stayed as far away from them as they could. The way I see it, one group looked and acted like Jesus, and it wasn’t those who claimed to be His followers. This is the ultimate tragedy.

I challenge you and myself to re-define Christianity. We can take back Jesus’ name and represent Him accurately; with love, excitement, and passion. Change will not happen over-night. As I have learned with my friends on the streets, change takes time. But that is okay. I remind myself of this daily: change takes time and that is okay. Results are in God’s hands and in His timing. We never know what part of someone’s story we are engaging in. We may be the one who plants the first seed of Christ’s love. We may be the 100th person to plant that seed. We may be simple soil-tillers so that someday Jesus’ love can take root. But I am convinced that when we love like Jesus, we are slowly but surely helping to prepare someone’s heart for God to do His work. Love well, brothers and sisters. Re-define Christ for the people in your lives with love and see what happens.

Friday, May 23, 2008

stealing you

So, some of you may know that i enjoy writing songs every now and again. Something about sitting down with a guitar or at a piano and letting the words and music flow, relaxes me and gives me a chance to verbalize the emotions that constantly surface from the pain and stories we encounter on the streets. I have found that my friends on the streets are incredible inspiration. This one, called "stealing you", came about after a tough couple of days. I was thinking about how much I hate seeing so many people that I love go through such hell. I was thinking about how much I hate watching so many people that I love fall time and time again. But then, I thought about how much more pain God must experience when He sees so many of the people that He loves hide from His love; disappearing time and time again into the traps and snares of addictions. So, I wrote this song as if it were God singing it. Though I had a certain friend in mind, I wonder if Jesus might sing this song to anyone who is unknowingly running from Him.

Verse 1:
All your tears spilled there tonight
Hold on to me
Never die
I will jump in front for you
Won’t let you go
Without a fight
I won’t leave you by yourself
I know you’re scared
No where to turn
But now is when you need me most
You know that
You know that

Verse 2:
I see you running for your life
Back and forth
Away from me
You say you can’t escape the clutch
Of what holds you
What keeps you down
You spend your days staying alive
Holding on to
What is weak
It takes much more than you may know
To find you
To find you

Chorus:
But I’ll steal you
Away from yourself
Just to see your eyes light

Verse 2:
All my tears spilled there that night
I saw you standing
In the crowd
You tried to hide didn’t even know
I passed right by
Felt your pain
The hardest thing I’ll ever do
Is to see your face
Disappear
Can’t you see the one way out
Find me there
Find me there


Bridge:
I spend most days dreaming
I spend most days dreaming
I spend most days dreaming
Of what you could be