I'm moving!
I didn't really feel sad about this until I came on here to write this post, but here we are and I am getting a little bit sentimental about leaving this space behind. It held my very first internet words, has gone through dozens of redesigns, helped me meet some dear friends and was my space to process through some of the most heart-transforming seasons of my life thus far.
I love this space dearly... and I'm not totally leaving it behind! I've transferred some of my favourite blog posts over to my new website, but I'll be keeping this blog up as a home for all my previous words. So I'm sure I at least will still visit here often when I want to read back.
But enough about that! I'd love for you to visit me at my new internet home:
www.alyssaesparaz.ca
I'm excited to continue sharing my words and work with you there.
Thanks for all the beautiful words and connections here.
Peace,
Alyssa
Wednesday, August 28, 2019
Sunday, December 9, 2018
Ethiopia and Christmas
There was a pretty tree on the baggage claim carousel and evergreen tinsel hanging from the ceiling.
The Western world—often unknowingly—inviting God to be with us for one month of the year, every year, with plastic decorations and a rush of capitalism.
So maybe I'm cynical.
Or maybe it's that I haven't been able to stop thinking about—something—in the weeks since coming home.
I finally made it to our home church this week, after almost two full weeks of being home. The Christmas buzz has only become more intense with the start of Advent and Christmas shopping. It doesn't help that I go to church at the busiest and highest-grossing mall in Canada.
And we're singing Christmas carols at church now, too.
Emmanuel, Emmanuel. God incarnate, here to dwell.
Don't get me wrong—Emmanuel is for all of us. God is with all of us, in all of our mess, in every circumstance and context of life.
But as this Sunday's Advent reading is read, the scene of where God specifically chose to come to be with us, at that specific point in history all those years ago—the place He chose when He could only choose one—comes barrelling into my mind.
It's the thing I can't stop thinking about—the thing that's been resting heavy on my heart since coming home to Christmas.
And I'm suddenly back in the small home of a single mother in Ethiopia, reaching across to squeeze her arm in reassurance as tears flow while she tells me her story.
God is with us, there.
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| Tigist + Yeabsira |
We like to invite him into our big and bright white Christmases of the West—without even a thought that His choice for where He would come be with us and spend that first Christmas was a small, messy, quiet, humble and dim brown Christmas in the Middle East.
I'm not saying He won't meet us where we are—He will fight every distraction and all our excess to get our attention and capture our hearts.
But I just can't stop thinking about how close He felt as I listened to the stories of mothers who were afraid when they first heard of their pregnancy...yet chose to say a brave yes anyways.
That's all I've been thinking about, actually.
I came home to Christmas...but in so many ways, I came home from experiencing all that Christmas was, is and should be—and no matter how many times I do it, it keeps on wrecking me, shaping me, forming me...and I couldn't be more thankful.
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Hi. I decided to write a thing and post it on my blog! Crazy. A little tag to it...
What they don't tell you about reverse culture shock is that it's never the same twice. Each time, it's different and it doesn't necessarily get easier, but it's never quite the blinding intensity and year-long anguish of the first time...nor does it follow the same path as the last time. It's a unique story every time.
What they don't tell you about reverse culture shock is that sometimes you might feel incredibly entitled, childish and privileged for experiencing it, particularly when it's part of your (dream) job...and that writing about it in a public forum sometimes helps like it did when you were fifteen, and sometimes that just makes you feel crazy vulnerable in ways that you don't want to at twenty-one (or ever).
But I think vulnerability is good? Or I'm just part of the narcissistic generation that puts their lives on the internet. At least I'm self-aware...or maybe I am cynical. ;)
Anyways, I just wanted to pop in on this highly-neglected blog to share some reflections and give some (very small) peeks into what my experience of travelling to and back from Ethiopia was like, to add to (or in case you missed) what's on Instagram. To take the responsibility seriously of stewarding the stories of those I met—and my own story—well.
And also to wish you a very Merry Christmas! ... Because apparently I really can't promise that I'll write here again within the next 6 months.
May you experience Emmanuel—God with us—wherever you find yourself in this season. Wishing you and yours expectant hope, subversive peace, radical joy and boundless love throughout the holidays and in the New Year ahead. —ae
Tuesday, June 12, 2018
My Case for Youth Ministry
It was a whirlwind month of May, and I left so inspired. And I just had to get around to telling you all about it...
First, I hit the East Coast of Canada to represent Compassion at the first-ever One Conference—a gathering of ~2000 youth and youth leaders from across denominations, coming together to learn, worship, and have a ton of fun.
Then, on top of all that, I got to finally come home and in the first week of June watch 10 people from my youth group get baptized, 2 of which were girls in my Jr. High group that I got to help baptize. It was an absolute joy.
Then, I made my way to the prairies along with my brother to represent Compassion Canada at YC Alberta—a gathering of ~5500 youth and youth leaders, again, from across denominations, coming together to learn, worship and have a lot of fun (and, as it turns out, to sponsor 157 Compassion kids! WHAT!).
Finally, I came home and made my way north to the Muskokas to gather with my own youth group... ~500 of us gathering for a weekend at camp to build our relationships with each other and with Jesus.
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| photo credits |
Finally, I came home and made my way north to the Muskokas to gather with my own youth group... ~500 of us gathering for a weekend at camp to build our relationships with each other and with Jesus.
Then, on top of all that, I got to finally come home and in the first week of June watch 10 people from my youth group get baptized, 2 of which were girls in my Jr. High group that I got to help baptize. It was an absolute joy.
There's several things I'm convinced of at the end of this mini-youth ministry marathon, but here's my biggest one. If you are not involved with a youth ministry at the moment, I highly recommend it.
Seriously. There's just something that's good for your soul when you stand with dozens, hundreds or thousands of teenagers and declare the name of Jesus in song, word and community.
It's a balm to cynicism. It's a reason to hope.
When teenagers have the courage to say yes to Jesus, I am confident that we are going to be okay.
When teenagers decide to sponsor dozens and dozens of children through Compassion, I see a generation that sees the messy brokenness of the world and is relentless in its pursuit of shalom anyways.
When teenagers lift their hands and declare the reckless love of God, the powerful name of Jesus, I know that the Spirit is going to move in mighty ways through them.
I've had the privilege of going nearly coast to coast this spring, hanging out with teenagers. And I just want you to know that it's not bad news. It's not the desolate landscape of hopelessness that we sometimes think it is.
It's a movement of kind, relentless, passionate, tenacious, bright young people who love Jesus and are committed to His peace, His shalom, His Kingdom come, on earth as it is in heaven.
It's pretty cool, friends, and it is a joy to be a part of it.
It's pretty cool, friends, and it is a joy to be a part of it.
Thursday, April 26, 2018
When Dreams Change
As most people in my circle know, for the past 3+ years, I've been planning to go on a year-long co-op placement in the Global South as part of my undergrad, in my 4th year. These past few months have been spent working to secure a placement and prepare to leave over the summer.
I think this has been a dream of mine since reading Kisses from Katie in grade 9. I think a part of me has wanted to spend extended time in the Global South since I first travelled to the Philippines in 2011. It's been something I've been working towards and dreaming of since I heard about this program at the University of Toronto.
A few weeks ago, I found myself with an offer to live in a beautiful country for a year, working with a local, grassroots, church-based NGO. I would be working with youth, doing communications, and using my international development degree.
It was my dream placement.
I had every intention to accept it. "Unless God writes in the sky," I texted a friend.
But sometimes God writes in the sky even when you don't want Him to, and especially when you least expect Him to.
So, on the Thursday before Easter, I declined my dream placement.
I don't expect everyone to understand. It's hard for me to articulate the intangible feeling of knowing and understanding exactly what I needed to do deep down in my soul. I won't launch into the full story here... it's one that needs to be told over a coffee, not on a blog. There isn't really much of a story, other than that where there should've been peace and excitement about this placement, there was instead division and uneasiness.
It wasn't my dream to hold onto anymore. I think part of me has known that for months, but another part of me, the part that's been dreaming about this for more than five years, didn't want that to be true.
It's sad when dreams die. I cried more tears over losing this dream than I had cried in a long time. But the day after declining that placement, I entered into a weekend that was a reminder that resurrection doesn't happen without death. That full and abundant life doesn't happen without sacrifice at the cross. That something can be celebrated on one Sunday, killed on Friday, and then raised to new life the next Sunday.
Things change. Outlooks change. Sometimes very quickly. And in this case, very quickly is exactly what happened...
I thought I would have to drop-out of the co-op stream of my program, and graduate a year earlier (which would've been nice, honestly, but...).
But don't I know that God's grace reaches infinitely farther than I can ask or imagine.
In the matter of a few days, a new plan was in motion, and I will now be completing my co-op placement at Compassion Canada, continuing in a similar role that I have been working in for the past two years. I get to stay in Toronto and continue investing in the places, spaces and people I love, while continuing in this amazing program, doing something I love, and contributing to an organization I am so proud to work with.
It's the dream placement I never even knew to dream of.
And that's just how much the Lord desires to lavish His love on His kids.
I'll also likely be taking a bit of time to travel throughout the year to visit some of my Compassion kids. And, as part of my program, I will also be conducting some primary research, based here in Toronto, for a thesis paper that I will write in 5th year.
Yeah, it does blow my mind a little, too.
I want to say thank you, to those that prayed through this process with me. You prayed me to a different outcome than I expected, but one I am fully at peace with and one that I couldn't be more delighted with.
I also want to apologize for my inconsistent updates. Things happened fast and suddenly, and it was hard to keep up with updating everyone, remembering who was updated up until what point in the process... etcetera. This post is my attempt to do a sweeping catch-up for everyone. Thank you for grace in this.
This has definitely been a weird space to be in because over the past several years, everything in my life had been barrelling towards this placement that is no longer going to happen. Everything has been about placement, everything fit around the big block that was placement... and maybe that was part of the problem.
Throughout this process, I've been hearing God tell me to trust. To step off a cliff, even if it feels like I'm free falling, and trust that He is going to catch me.
I thought many things of this picture. I thought that stepping off the cliff meant going on placement. Or maybe that I wouldn't be offered a placement.
Turns out it meant that I would be offered what I thought was my dream placement and He would ask me to let go of it. Step off the cliff into the unknown of giving up a long-held-on-to dream.
And to know that sometimes, dreams change. And that's okay.
In fact, sometimes that changing dream is the very best He has for you.
I think this has been a dream of mine since reading Kisses from Katie in grade 9. I think a part of me has wanted to spend extended time in the Global South since I first travelled to the Philippines in 2011. It's been something I've been working towards and dreaming of since I heard about this program at the University of Toronto.
It was my dream placement.
I had every intention to accept it. "Unless God writes in the sky," I texted a friend.
So, on the Thursday before Easter, I declined my dream placement.
I don't expect everyone to understand. It's hard for me to articulate the intangible feeling of knowing and understanding exactly what I needed to do deep down in my soul. I won't launch into the full story here... it's one that needs to be told over a coffee, not on a blog. There isn't really much of a story, other than that where there should've been peace and excitement about this placement, there was instead division and uneasiness.
It wasn't my dream to hold onto anymore. I think part of me has known that for months, but another part of me, the part that's been dreaming about this for more than five years, didn't want that to be true.
It's sad when dreams die. I cried more tears over losing this dream than I had cried in a long time. But the day after declining that placement, I entered into a weekend that was a reminder that resurrection doesn't happen without death. That full and abundant life doesn't happen without sacrifice at the cross. That something can be celebrated on one Sunday, killed on Friday, and then raised to new life the next Sunday.
Things change. Outlooks change. Sometimes very quickly. And in this case, very quickly is exactly what happened...
I thought I would have to drop-out of the co-op stream of my program, and graduate a year earlier (which would've been nice, honestly, but...).
But don't I know that God's grace reaches infinitely farther than I can ask or imagine.
In the matter of a few days, a new plan was in motion, and I will now be completing my co-op placement at Compassion Canada, continuing in a similar role that I have been working in for the past two years. I get to stay in Toronto and continue investing in the places, spaces and people I love, while continuing in this amazing program, doing something I love, and contributing to an organization I am so proud to work with.
It's the dream placement I never even knew to dream of.
And that's just how much the Lord desires to lavish His love on His kids.
I'll also likely be taking a bit of time to travel throughout the year to visit some of my Compassion kids. And, as part of my program, I will also be conducting some primary research, based here in Toronto, for a thesis paper that I will write in 5th year.
Yeah, it does blow my mind a little, too.
I want to say thank you, to those that prayed through this process with me. You prayed me to a different outcome than I expected, but one I am fully at peace with and one that I couldn't be more delighted with.
I also want to apologize for my inconsistent updates. Things happened fast and suddenly, and it was hard to keep up with updating everyone, remembering who was updated up until what point in the process... etcetera. This post is my attempt to do a sweeping catch-up for everyone. Thank you for grace in this.
This has definitely been a weird space to be in because over the past several years, everything in my life had been barrelling towards this placement that is no longer going to happen. Everything has been about placement, everything fit around the big block that was placement... and maybe that was part of the problem.
Throughout this process, I've been hearing God tell me to trust. To step off a cliff, even if it feels like I'm free falling, and trust that He is going to catch me.
I thought many things of this picture. I thought that stepping off the cliff meant going on placement. Or maybe that I wouldn't be offered a placement.
Turns out it meant that I would be offered what I thought was my dream placement and He would ask me to let go of it. Step off the cliff into the unknown of giving up a long-held-on-to dream.
And to know that sometimes, dreams change. And that's okay.
In fact, sometimes that changing dream is the very best He has for you.
Friday, January 12, 2018
Dear 45, on behalf of children of colour...
Dear Mr. President,
First thing first... I’m Canadian. You’re not my President. Yet time and time again, you’ve dragged all of us—women, people of colour, advocates, allies, global citizens, Kingdom people—into this through your comments and your actions.
Yesterday, you called the homes of millions of people a term that I struggle to repeat on my blog. You—the man that holds the most powerful political office in the world—used a vulgarity in one of the highest offices in the world that many, if not most, people rarely to never dare to use in their own offices, schools and homes. That alone is an abuse of your power.
But this letter isn’t to tell you to watch your language—you should probably know that. This letter isn’t even to tell you that I’ve been to Haiti and that it’s beautiful, or that one of the most precious girls in my life is from Africa and that she is beautiful. Plenty of people are doing that, and I will let them speak on behalf of all of us who work every single day with the resilient, beautiful, incredible people of the Global South to breathe beauty and love and wonder into this messy world.
No, this letter is on behalf of children of colour who live in America.
You see, in this season, I’m trying to work on giving people the benefit of the doubt. I’m trying to work out of the overflowing grace of Jesus in the way I respond both privately and publicly to events, people and situations in my life. So even though the cynical side of me absolutely does not want to, I’m going to try and approach your comment under the assumption that you are simply ignorant. That your racist comment comes because as a white man that grew up in America, you are simply ignorant to the experience of people of colour in America / North America, and you are ignorant to the ravaging effects that your comments have on young, impressionable children of colour.
So, I humbly ask you to hear me out for a few minutes as I explain.
I grew up as a first-generation Asian-Canadian in a primarily white neighbourhood just outside of Toronto, Canada. I was privileged to have some exposure to cultural diversity, since Toronto is one of the most multicultural cities in the world. But my primary experience was one where whiteness was default and everything else was Other.
It starts innocently enough. Maybe it’s Remembrance Day (that’s Veteran’s Day, for you) celebrations at school. The history class that goes along with it is about the trenches in Europe and the men and women that fought those wars—for freedom, for liberty. The assignment that goes along with it is to see if your ancestors fought in those trenches. My classmates go home, and come the next day with stories of their grandparents who are war heroes. Their ancestors are celebrated for their contribution to the peace and freedom that we enjoy here in Canada today.
But my ancestors did not fight in those trenches. So these little doubts enter my mind: Are my ancestors weak? Does my family not contribute to making Canada peaceful and free?
Then maybe it’s a trip to the movies. Maybe it’s every trip to the movies I ever took throughout my childhood and youth. The main character is always white, by default. Their experience is always one that white people have, or at least “default Americans” have, so why not just cast a white actor, since, remember, whiteness is always default in the world I grew up in. It’s the same story when I turn on the T.V. or read books.
There are never people of colour in those stories. Definitely no Asians. Definitely no Asian heroes. So those little doubts are reinforced: Is the experience of people like me not worth depicting in the media? Is my experience always second to the default of whiteness?
Then maybe it’s a few innocent enough comments I heard ever so often. “Your dad says that word funny.” “Nothing’s more Canadian than summers at the cottage and winters at the ski resort!” “I love Chinese food. You’re so lucky, your mom must make Chinese food every night for dinner.” “Can you say something in Chinese?” “There are terrorists in the Philippines, right?” “I would never go to China.”
But I’ve always understood my dad, even when he enunciates every syllable in comfortable as if it’s a Filipino word. My family has never had or wanted a cottage, and we’ve never been skiing. And so on. And those little doubts start screaming: Is there something wrong with the way my family operates? Is there something so exotic or different about Chinese food and language that makes people so interested in it? Is there something wrong with the countries that my family is from?
Are the places I’m from sh*tholes?
I’ve come a long way, Mr. President. I am so proud of where I’m from. I am so proud of the diversity that I and my fellow people of colour bring to this country, and the stories we can start to tell.
But yesterday when I heard about what you said, my mind immediately went to the black, brown and yellow kids all over North America who have had those little doubts bouncing around in their minds all their life. And I was bowled over with grief at the realization that the most powerful man in the world had just validated their deepest, darkest doubt by stating that the places they're from are sh*tholes.
I know it’s hard for you to understand because you’ve never experienced what I just described to you. But I hope you can try. I hope you can start to listen to the experience of people of colour in America.
I’ll end off with this:
To my white friends... This isn’t about anti-whiteness. This isn't about discounting who you are, what you contribute to this world, or implying that your whiteness is wrong. I want you to know that from the deepest parts of who I am. What this is about is recognizing that people of colour experience a wildly different America than you do, especially in times like the one we’re in now. And we want you to hear our experience so that you can begin to link arms with us in change. It’s not just about the way we teach history, or represent in the media, or the passing comments we make... it’s much more systemic than that. But we can start to change those systems of oppression when we hear each other, hold each other, and build each other up.
To those from Haiti, countries in Africa, Mexico, El Salvador, and other countries in the Global South, and especially first generation kids in North America... I know for many of you, it will be a long time—maybe never—before you get to see the place you’re from again or for the first time. And based on what you see in the media, sometimes it’s hard to believe that those places are beautiful. But they are. They are not sh*thole countries. They are even so much more than “very poor and troubled”, as the President put it when he tried to rescind his vulgar comment today. They are places that were created by Creator God—just like you. And even in the midst of messiness and brokenness, that same Creator God has a deep desire to reconcile and redeem and restore and because of that, the place you are from is home to many beautiful, wonderful, divine stories of hope and restoration—stories just. like. yours.
Stories just like the one I hope we can start writing as we move forward together.
Stories just like the one I hope we can start writing as we move forward together.
Monday, August 14, 2017
On Charlottesville...
I'm trying to put into words right now the range of emotions I've felt this weekend as I watched Charlottesville unfold.
And the only words that surface are: Lord Jesus, come.
It's all I can think to say. Well, okay, I can think to say a lot, and yes, I did and probably will continue to keep letting words flow, but I keep coming back to these three words. Come, Lord Jesus. Come.
And somehow, it doesn't feel like a small and helpless cry, but as if there is power in that name. Because there is.
And this is what I come to, after an exhausting and horrifying weekend: Christ-followers, we need to be declaring the name of Jesus right now. We need to be establishing His Kingdom with our words and our actions because if not, the anti-Christ of white supremacy, or Nazism, or violence, or racism, or war, or whatever evil might be coming next weekend will take root in far too many hearts, and honestly? I am sick of losing souls. Aren't we all?
So look--Church, at this moment in history, we can't just be about justice. Or peace. Or love, in general.
There will be a lot of voices that call for justice, peace, and love.
No, right now and always, we need to be about Jesus.
Because being about Jesus means being about justice. Being about Jesus means being about peace. And you better believe that being about Jesus means being about love.
But if we believe that His Kingdom is where all things are made new, then we cannot just declare our own kingdoms of justice or peace or love. Because declaring their own kingdoms is exactly what those people in Charlottesville are doing and oh, did we see what a dangerous road that is to walk.
No, we need to establish, with our lives, the Kingdom of Jesus.
This weekend--in the between refreshing Twitter a million times, hoping to get just one more image of Charlottesville that might finally tell me that it wasn't real--our church family was working tirelessly to prepare for the arrival of the second Syrian refugee family that we are sponsoring to come to Canada.
There have been so many miracles in this process thus far, such as mid-month occupancy at an apartment in a crazy housing market, but the miracle I'm personally holding in my heart is the way that the Lord simply knew that I would need those preparations this weekend.
If white supremacy was going to rear its ugly head this weekend, then God gave me the gift of being able to counter it with preparations to welcome this family to Canada. To respond to the shouts of "You will not replace us," with an emphatic, Jesus-centred, community effort to declare, "We welcome refugees."
Friends--now isn't the time to just be peaceful, or just be anti-Nazism, or just be for defending marginalized communities.
Now is the time for intentionally establishing the Kingdom--on earth as it is in heaven. All those other things--good and vitally important things--are all by-products of Christ's Kingdom. So let's be, live, declare, establish it.
There is power in the name of Jesus. If you happen to believe that, then more than anything else you could do, the world needs you to declare that power right now.
The world needs you to establish a space and live a life where Jesus is King.
Because in that Kingdom, the King Himself suffered under all the evil humanity had to offer and declared it is finished.
In Christ's Kingdom, it is finished. White supremacy. Racism. Nazism. All evil--all of it--is finished.
All that's left is for us to deny the kingdoms of this world--deny ourselves, our own kingdoms, and the evil that often lurks even in our own hearts--and instead declare the Kingdom of heaven.
And the Good News of this all is that the Kingdom of heaven is near--and not in the way the obnoxious street preachers mean it. No, the Kingdom of heaven, the one where all evil is finished, is so near that we could maybe even see it here--if only we choose to stop chasing our own kingdoms and seek out Christ's Kingdom.
If only we choose to declare that Jesus is Lord.
And somehow, it doesn't feel like a small and helpless cry, but as if there is power in that name. Because there is.
And this is what I come to, after an exhausting and horrifying weekend: Christ-followers, we need to be declaring the name of Jesus right now. We need to be establishing His Kingdom with our words and our actions because if not, the anti-Christ of white supremacy, or Nazism, or violence, or racism, or war, or whatever evil might be coming next weekend will take root in far too many hearts, and honestly? I am sick of losing souls. Aren't we all?
So look--Church, at this moment in history, we can't just be about justice. Or peace. Or love, in general.
There will be a lot of voices that call for justice, peace, and love.
No, right now and always, we need to be about Jesus.
Because being about Jesus means being about justice. Being about Jesus means being about peace. And you better believe that being about Jesus means being about love.
But if we believe that His Kingdom is where all things are made new, then we cannot just declare our own kingdoms of justice or peace or love. Because declaring their own kingdoms is exactly what those people in Charlottesville are doing and oh, did we see what a dangerous road that is to walk.
No, we need to establish, with our lives, the Kingdom of Jesus.
This weekend--in the between refreshing Twitter a million times, hoping to get just one more image of Charlottesville that might finally tell me that it wasn't real--our church family was working tirelessly to prepare for the arrival of the second Syrian refugee family that we are sponsoring to come to Canada.
There have been so many miracles in this process thus far, such as mid-month occupancy at an apartment in a crazy housing market, but the miracle I'm personally holding in my heart is the way that the Lord simply knew that I would need those preparations this weekend.
If white supremacy was going to rear its ugly head this weekend, then God gave me the gift of being able to counter it with preparations to welcome this family to Canada. To respond to the shouts of "You will not replace us," with an emphatic, Jesus-centred, community effort to declare, "We welcome refugees."
Friends--now isn't the time to just be peaceful, or just be anti-Nazism, or just be for defending marginalized communities.
Now is the time for intentionally establishing the Kingdom--on earth as it is in heaven. All those other things--good and vitally important things--are all by-products of Christ's Kingdom. So let's be, live, declare, establish it.
There is power in the name of Jesus. If you happen to believe that, then more than anything else you could do, the world needs you to declare that power right now.
The world needs you to establish a space and live a life where Jesus is King.
Because in that Kingdom, the King Himself suffered under all the evil humanity had to offer and declared it is finished.
In Christ's Kingdom, it is finished. White supremacy. Racism. Nazism. All evil--all of it--is finished.
All that's left is for us to deny the kingdoms of this world--deny ourselves, our own kingdoms, and the evil that often lurks even in our own hearts--and instead declare the Kingdom of heaven.
And the Good News of this all is that the Kingdom of heaven is near--and not in the way the obnoxious street preachers mean it. No, the Kingdom of heaven, the one where all evil is finished, is so near that we could maybe even see it here--if only we choose to stop chasing our own kingdoms and seek out Christ's Kingdom.
If only we choose to declare that Jesus is Lord.
A related MUST READ (Please. Sit and listen to this!): After Charlottesville, the Question We Absolutely Have to Answer: Who Is Willing to Pick Up their Cross? by Lisa Sharon Harper
Monday, May 22, 2017
The Story We Live By
I'm taking The Canadian Short Story in summer school right now--a fun elective for the summer.
And it is totally convicting me to write.
We live stories that either give our lives meaning or negate it with meaninglessness. If we change the stories we live by, quite possibly we change our lives.
--Nigerian storyteller Ben Okri
That quote resonated with me deep.
I hoped to be around this blog more this year. But many times I've felt word-less. Why write? I thought, Is there really any thing left to be said in this world?
Yes. That's what I hear zing through my heart as my professor reads it out: We live stories. Stories change lives.
The writer deep inside me always knows this, of course. But sometimes I needs a reminder.
And when the world feels like it's imploding on itself, it can be hard to comprehend the power of a simple story.
But what about that story of a God who loved us so much that He refused to leave us in this imploding world all on our own?
So He made a plan and suddenly--God with us, showing us the way to live our stories. To live compassion and humility and servanthood and peace.
Then He spread his arms wide at calvary and took the brunt of the worst this imploding world had to offer... and He defeated it.
What. About. That. Story?
Yeah--that's the story that gives our life meaning.
And until every heart knows the immense, overwhelming beauty of it, we must tell it again and again and again. No matter how many times it takes--because the Love in this story is relentless.
So yes, yes, yes. Artists and singers and filmmakers and thespians and yes - writers, too. We must tell stories, and live stories, and change lives.
Because until every life lives transformed by the Greatest Story of a Man on a cross, defeating death and inviting all to the resurrection...
There are still more stories to be told of lives transformed by the Good News that He is making all things new.
Does this mean I'll blog more? Perhaps. I do know that words are slowly coming back, and that feels good.
Monday, January 30, 2017
There Is No Neutral
I don't know about you, but I am starting this week feeling incredibly heavy. burdened. weary.
The weekend started with the Muslim ban. People were detained in airports because of the passport they carry. Families who had been going through a gruelling application and vetting process had their hopes of starting fresh in the safety of a new home totally crushed. Some had been in the pipeline for 3 years and had just a few months or weeks left before boarding the plane. Instead, they were told they had to stay where they were--in their imploding cities or nearby camps, living in extreme poverty.
And still, so many people carried on cheering for this policy.
By the time Sunday night came around and news came through of a mass shooting at a Quebec mosque, I just wanted to shut it all out. As if that would make it stop.
There is no neutral anymore. This is the time for the Church to be the Church.
We're no longer allowed to say, "I don't do politics." Because this isn't about politics. This is about humanity. This is about the Kingdom. This is about Jesus.
Church, this is not the time to disengage. This is not the time to preach recycled sermons and have quiet small groups and be apathetic and have shallow fun at youth group and spend another night at family midweek getting spiritually fat.
This is the time to engage like never before. To not only engage but shape, inform, and cultivate culture and society like the Church has been known for throughout history. To passionately preach subversive peace and radical love. To roll up our sleeves and get to work welcoming strangers and feeding the hungry and clothing the naked and visiting the sick and imprisoned.
Church, if we hadn't yet, we have officially lost the ability to be neutral. Either we stand up for the marginalized, or we oppress them ourselves. Either we pick up our cross, or we are the Romans cracking the whip and driving the nails.
There is no other way around this. This goes beyond borders. This goes beyond politics.
This is what the Church is on this earth for. When governments won't protect the marginalized, when nobody else will... the Church will. That is who we are. That is who our Saviour is: One who was so often moved with compassion. One who was a refugee. One who protects the vulnerable.
Perhaps, this is the very moment for which we were created. And no, we can't afford to sleep through this moment. We just can't.
Pray like you have never prayed before. Be the Body of Christ in real, tangible ways. Contact your elected officials. Welcome a refugee. Raise awareness. Learn. Donate to people spreading Christ's hope on the ground.
And love. Love like you never have before.
Because Love conquers all.
Jesus conquers all.
Come, Lord Jesus. Come.
Build Your Kingdom here.
The weekend started with the Muslim ban. People were detained in airports because of the passport they carry. Families who had been going through a gruelling application and vetting process had their hopes of starting fresh in the safety of a new home totally crushed. Some had been in the pipeline for 3 years and had just a few months or weeks left before boarding the plane. Instead, they were told they had to stay where they were--in their imploding cities or nearby camps, living in extreme poverty.
And still, so many people carried on cheering for this policy.
By the time Sunday night came around and news came through of a mass shooting at a Quebec mosque, I just wanted to shut it all out. As if that would make it stop.
 |
| photo source |
There is no neutral anymore. This is the time for the Church to be the Church.
We're no longer allowed to say, "I don't do politics." Because this isn't about politics. This is about humanity. This is about the Kingdom. This is about Jesus.
Church, this is not the time to disengage. This is not the time to preach recycled sermons and have quiet small groups and be apathetic and have shallow fun at youth group and spend another night at family midweek getting spiritually fat.
This is the time to engage like never before. To not only engage but shape, inform, and cultivate culture and society like the Church has been known for throughout history. To passionately preach subversive peace and radical love. To roll up our sleeves and get to work welcoming strangers and feeding the hungry and clothing the naked and visiting the sick and imprisoned.
Church, if we hadn't yet, we have officially lost the ability to be neutral. Either we stand up for the marginalized, or we oppress them ourselves. Either we pick up our cross, or we are the Romans cracking the whip and driving the nails.
There is no other way around this. This goes beyond borders. This goes beyond politics.
This is what the Church is on this earth for. When governments won't protect the marginalized, when nobody else will... the Church will. That is who we are. That is who our Saviour is: One who was so often moved with compassion. One who was a refugee. One who protects the vulnerable.
Perhaps, this is the very moment for which we were created. And no, we can't afford to sleep through this moment. We just can't.
Pray like you have never prayed before. Be the Body of Christ in real, tangible ways. Contact your elected officials. Welcome a refugee. Raise awareness. Learn. Donate to people spreading Christ's hope on the ground.
And love. Love like you never have before.
Because Love conquers all.
Jesus conquers all.
Come, Lord Jesus. Come.
Build Your Kingdom here.
Tuesday, January 24, 2017
#OneWord2017: Presence
Better late than never?
One of my Christmas vacation goals was to renovate the blog and thereafter, get a post up semi-regularly again. It's taken longer than expected, but here it is.
I missed this place! Last year was sporadic at best, and I seriously missed the time of reflection that blogging brought to my life. Nothing made that more evident than my lack of a one word last year.
It's not that I centre my whole life around my one word. In fact, I'm not always very good at focussing on the goals the word is supposed to represent.
But God has used my various words to speak into my life, help me find some themes in certain seasons, and really just have something to anchor my journey and growth in for the year - be it spiritual, personal, professional, academic, or otherwise.
All that to say, I resolved to find a word for 2017.
One of my Christmas vacation goals was to renovate the blog and thereafter, get a post up semi-regularly again. It's taken longer than expected, but here it is.
I missed this place! Last year was sporadic at best, and I seriously missed the time of reflection that blogging brought to my life. Nothing made that more evident than my lack of a one word last year.
It's not that I centre my whole life around my one word. In fact, I'm not always very good at focussing on the goals the word is supposed to represent.
But God has used my various words to speak into my life, help me find some themes in certain seasons, and really just have something to anchor my journey and growth in for the year - be it spiritual, personal, professional, academic, or otherwise.
All that to say, I resolved to find a word for 2017.
I landed on presence.
I want to be more aware of God's presence this year. I want to be open to it, to be actively listening for Him, and to be aware that He is present and working in every moment, every situation, every life.
I want to be present right where I am, wherever that happens to be, in whatever I happen to be doing. As a student living in 4-month bursts, it is so easy to look to next semester, to the summer, to my co-op placement next year, to what's next? after graduation. More than that, I am also involved in a lot of different things at school, at church, with Compassion, and personally, and it is so easy to be doing one thing while thinking about something else entirely.
But I want to recognize that God is doing something right here. Right now. In each moment, something is happening and more often than not God is orchestrating something beautiful before our eyes. And I want to be present for that. I don't want to miss out on the incredible things He is doing in the here and now.
I don't want to sleep through the important moments. I want to stand in the river, expecting God to do something big if I show up, be present, and expect Him to move in world-shaking ways.
That is my #OneWord2017! A few concrete New Year's resolutions include blogging regularly, continuing to build the skill of speaking as I speak at gatherings and events, and reading the entire Bible this year.
I am glad to have this space refreshed and revived and I am so looking forward to the year ahead!
How about you? What's your #OneWord2017?
I want to be more aware of God's presence this year. I want to be open to it, to be actively listening for Him, and to be aware that He is present and working in every moment, every situation, every life.
I want to be present right where I am, wherever that happens to be, in whatever I happen to be doing. As a student living in 4-month bursts, it is so easy to look to next semester, to the summer, to my co-op placement next year, to what's next? after graduation. More than that, I am also involved in a lot of different things at school, at church, with Compassion, and personally, and it is so easy to be doing one thing while thinking about something else entirely.
But I want to recognize that God is doing something right here. Right now. In each moment, something is happening and more often than not God is orchestrating something beautiful before our eyes. And I want to be present for that. I don't want to miss out on the incredible things He is doing in the here and now.
I don't want to sleep through the important moments. I want to stand in the river, expecting God to do something big if I show up, be present, and expect Him to move in world-shaking ways.
That is my #OneWord2017! A few concrete New Year's resolutions include blogging regularly, continuing to build the skill of speaking as I speak at gatherings and events, and reading the entire Bible this year.
I am glad to have this space refreshed and revived and I am so looking forward to the year ahead!
How about you? What's your #OneWord2017?
Wednesday, December 14, 2016
Aleppo and Advent
Just over 2000 years ago, an oppressed, forgotten people waited for a Saviour.
A Messiah. A King.
And they expected chariots and fire and revolution and war. They expected the overthrowing of their oppressors by a mighty king and ruthless warrior.
Instead they got a baby. A carpenter. A small-town boy who just so happened to be God Himself.
This is what we celebrate at Christmas.
Today, oppressed and forgotten people wait for a saviour all over our bleeding, broken world. Today, the oppressed, forgotten people of Aleppo wait to be saved, and many wait in vain.
And we expect fire to rain from heaven. Miraculous intervention. We expect Him to move mountains and do the supernatural.
It’s the season of advent. A season of waiting. And we wait. We wait and we wait and we wait... But what if He’s waiting for us? What if He’s saying: “I already came. And I left it now to you to continue.”
What if this whole bleeding world is waiting for us to be the Body of Christ—broken and poured out and given?
We wait. And rightfully so, we wait for the day that He makes all things new.
But perhaps we can do more. Perhaps He is actively making all things new and how can He do that but through His Church? Through His Body. Through us.
So, as we wait in this advent season, let’s consider that maybe the world is waiting for us. Waiting for us to stand up and mean it when we say “never again”. Waiting for us to stand up and be the Church. Waiting for us to stand up and be the broken-and-poured-out Body of Christ to a world that so desperately needs Him.
Let’s not utter Come, Lord Jesus, unless we’re willing to be the vessels through which He comes.
Let’s not celebrate His birth unless we’re willing to be the ones who breathe a courageous, Mary-like yes to birthing Love Himself into the world each and every day.
Because it’s advent, and millions of people are waiting for a Saviour.
So, come, Lord Jesus. Come.
A Messiah. A King.
And they expected chariots and fire and revolution and war. They expected the overthrowing of their oppressors by a mighty king and ruthless warrior.
Instead they got a baby. A carpenter. A small-town boy who just so happened to be God Himself.
This is what we celebrate at Christmas.
Today, oppressed and forgotten people wait for a saviour all over our bleeding, broken world. Today, the oppressed, forgotten people of Aleppo wait to be saved, and many wait in vain.
And we expect fire to rain from heaven. Miraculous intervention. We expect Him to move mountains and do the supernatural.
It’s the season of advent. A season of waiting. And we wait. We wait and we wait and we wait... But what if He’s waiting for us? What if He’s saying: “I already came. And I left it now to you to continue.”
What if this whole bleeding world is waiting for us to be the Body of Christ—broken and poured out and given?
We wait. And rightfully so, we wait for the day that He makes all things new.
But perhaps we can do more. Perhaps He is actively making all things new and how can He do that but through His Church? Through His Body. Through us.
So, as we wait in this advent season, let’s consider that maybe the world is waiting for us. Waiting for us to stand up and mean it when we say “never again”. Waiting for us to stand up and be the Church. Waiting for us to stand up and be the broken-and-poured-out Body of Christ to a world that so desperately needs Him.
Let’s not utter Come, Lord Jesus, unless we’re willing to be the vessels through which He comes.
Let’s not celebrate His birth unless we’re willing to be the ones who breathe a courageous, Mary-like yes to birthing Love Himself into the world each and every day.
Because it’s advent, and millions of people are waiting for a Saviour.
So, come, Lord Jesus. Come.
Here are 3 ways we can can be the Church to the people of Aleppo and Syria:
:: Donate to the Preemptive Love Coalition {Related: The World-Changing Art of Not Being A Sham This Christmas: 3 Ways to Help Aleppo For Real from Ann Voskamp... read this!!} or Mennonite Central Committee's Syria Response.
:: Sign this petition, calling on the Canadian government to protect the people of Aleppo.
:: Sponsor a refugee family to come to Canada.
Monday, September 12, 2016
Lessons on Giving from the Country of Haiti
My reflections on my family's recent trip to Haiti to visit our two Compassion children...
The Western World has given a lot to Haiti.
Billions of dollars in aid. Hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of shipments of in-kind donations and material goods. Countless missions trips, volunteer trips, foreign consultations, UN missions, humanitarian missions, long-term placements.
And yet Haiti remains the most underdeveloped country in the Western Hemisphere.
All too often, people point to Haitians and say they must be doing something wrong with all that they've been given. But the people I met this summer - they are bright, warm, vibrant, welcoming, kind, compassionate, humble, joyful, smart and hard-working. They have families that they want the best for and futures that they dream of. They are just like you and me. They are no different, and no less capable of taking what's been given to them and creating a life in which they, their families and their neighbours can thrive.
In fact, being capable of that is part of the DNA God created us with. God gave to humanity all of creation and charged us with stewarding it to cultivate life, beauty, and community... to be human is to be capable of thriving when given something that Creator God deems very good.
And so perhaps, just maybe - could I ask a hard question here?
Could it be us? Could it be us in the West that is doing something wrong with all that we've been given?
You see, we were given all of creation and told to cultivate something beautiful for ourselves, for each other, for the glory of our Creator... but that wasn't enough for us. We wanted more. And in this greed for more, we've gotten good at taking what we've been given to create good lives for ourselves. So good, in fact, that we've created comfortable lives. Luxurious lives. Extravagant lives.
And what started out as using our God-given gifts to fulfill our mandate to cultivate creation and thrive in community, has turned into a horrible, destructive, broken tendency to create luxury for ourselves at the expense of others.
At the expense of a country like Haiti.
It's rare of me to make sweeping generalizations about a country. And to be sure, there are huge inequalities in Haiti. There is a middle class and a select few ultra-rich.
But generally, what I saw there was poverty like I'd never seen it before. I saw poverty not as a crippling thorn or an urgent need. I saw poverty as the accepted way of life.
All because the West has given Haiti its leftovers. We've given our second-rate stuff. The stuff we need to get out of the way in order to make room for the next season's latest. We've given our time but not our lives. We've given haughty advice but not humble attentiveness. We've given money but not sacrifice nor love.
For the first time in my life, I understood why Jesus condemned the rich people who gave at the temple out of their excess because I saw the damage that giving out of my own excess has done. The clothes I've bagged and sent to thrift stores without checking where those clothes actually go. The cheap toys or second-rate stuff I've sent with mission teams. I will be the first to raise my hand and say that I have not always given thoughtfully, sacrificially or generously.
We've given to Haiti out of our excess. We've given our leftovers, our second-hand stuff, our after-thoughts. What we've given has indeed not been what Creator God would call very good.
You see, we've given clothes, but we've taken away the business of a seamstress.
We've given rice, but we've taken away the livelihood of a farmer.
We've given houses, but we've taken away the dignity of home.
We've given stuff, but we've taken away the empowerment in choosing your possessions for yourself.
We've given aid and development programs, but we've taken away the pride in building up your own life, your own community, your own nation.
We thought we were giving so much, but were we really? We were giving the leftovers of our luxury so we could replace it with more luxury, and in the process we've taken away the people of Haiti's ability to fulfill their God-given mandate to take His very good creation and cultivate beauty, life, and community.
And yet.
Despite all that we've taken, the Haitian people and the country of Haiti still give.
They gave to my family and me as we were their guests for 6 days.
They welcomed us warmly. Like that moment when the mother of our Compassion boy Bell Bradley, Margaret, welcomed us into her home with such exuberance and joy and song that our translator could barely get a word in - but it didn't matter... Welcome sounds the same in every language.
They opened their homes and their families to us. Like that moment we sat in our Compassion girl, Linsey's home and shared conversation and laughter and gifts and precious time with her entire family. Or those crazy-bumpy car rides during which we shared laughter and conversation with Bell Bradley's family.
They shared their talents with us. Like that moment Linsey burst into song and shared her beautiful voice with us as we sat with her in the Compassion Centre's library. Or that moment Bell Bradley did the same the next day! (Singing was a theme of our visit days.) Or like those vendors who shared their beautiful crafts with us to take home as memories of our time in Haiti.
Haiti gave me rest and rejuvenation before the beginning of this new school year. Like those days at the beach resort where ocean waves and sandy beaches were the perfect company to rest and reflect and prepare my soul for the year ahead.
Haiti taught me lessons that a classroom would never be able to teach me. Like lessons about the power of a faithful organization such as Compassion, faithfully reflecting Christ to their own communities as the local church and gaining the trust and respect of even the most feared gangs in Haiti.
Daily, they give to so many other guests who I can only suspect had their lives changed or their faith renewed or their souls touched while in Haiti. Like the countless other Westerners I saw also travelling to, from, or within Haiti.
And they give to each other.
When given something very good, the people of Haiti, like any people, build something beautiful for themselves, for each other, for the glory of God. Yes, they're broken; yes, it's messy; yes, the make mistakes... just like you and me.
But just like you and I try to do each day, they cling to Jesus, put forward their lives to invest in their communities and invest in the Kingdom, and trust that Christ will do something beautiful in and through them.
I visited two local churches, just two examples of many, who are building something beautiful in their communities through the ministry of Compassion. In Jesus' name, they are raising up children out of poverty and into leaders who dream of becoming doctors and lawyers and engineers and everyday people who steward what God's given them to cultivate beauty, life, community, for themselves, for each other, for the glory of God.
And after all they've given us, despite all we've taken, isn't time we gave something real? Something sacrificial? Something very good?
Like the rich in the temple, we've proudly given out of our excess, given our leftovers for long enough.
Might we start giving our best, our very good? Might we start giving with a posture of sacrifice rather than from a place of excess?
Becoming a Compassion sponsor is one of the most tangible places to start. What they do is very good - I've seen it. Compassion isn't perfect, they don't have all the answers - nor would they ever claim to. But they are committed to faithfully putting what they know is very good - the influence and support of a strong local church, and most importantly, the gospel of Jesus Christ - into the lives of children in poverty, and watching those children begin to thrive.
How can you give beyond your excess, your leftovers? Perhaps it's sponsoring one child. Perhaps it's three. Perhaps it's three hundred.
ButI dare you I dare us to start giving better than our leftovers. To start giving what our Creator God would call very good.
I dare us to start giving of our money, our time, our influence, our power, our privilege, our talents, our love, our very lives in radical, Kingdom-shaped ways... Because I believe that the beauty, the life, the community that God intended for us way back in Eden is waiting on the other side of that radical generosity.
additional resources:
When Helping Hurts by Brian Fikkert and Steve Corbett
Subversive Jesus by Craig Greenfield
Poverty Inc. documentary
The Western World has given a lot to Haiti.
Billions of dollars in aid. Hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of shipments of in-kind donations and material goods. Countless missions trips, volunteer trips, foreign consultations, UN missions, humanitarian missions, long-term placements.
And yet Haiti remains the most underdeveloped country in the Western Hemisphere.
All too often, people point to Haitians and say they must be doing something wrong with all that they've been given. But the people I met this summer - they are bright, warm, vibrant, welcoming, kind, compassionate, humble, joyful, smart and hard-working. They have families that they want the best for and futures that they dream of. They are just like you and me. They are no different, and no less capable of taking what's been given to them and creating a life in which they, their families and their neighbours can thrive.
In fact, being capable of that is part of the DNA God created us with. God gave to humanity all of creation and charged us with stewarding it to cultivate life, beauty, and community... to be human is to be capable of thriving when given something that Creator God deems very good.
And so perhaps, just maybe - could I ask a hard question here?
Could it be us? Could it be us in the West that is doing something wrong with all that we've been given?
You see, we were given all of creation and told to cultivate something beautiful for ourselves, for each other, for the glory of our Creator... but that wasn't enough for us. We wanted more. And in this greed for more, we've gotten good at taking what we've been given to create good lives for ourselves. So good, in fact, that we've created comfortable lives. Luxurious lives. Extravagant lives.
And what started out as using our God-given gifts to fulfill our mandate to cultivate creation and thrive in community, has turned into a horrible, destructive, broken tendency to create luxury for ourselves at the expense of others.
At the expense of a country like Haiti.
It's rare of me to make sweeping generalizations about a country. And to be sure, there are huge inequalities in Haiti. There is a middle class and a select few ultra-rich.
But generally, what I saw there was poverty like I'd never seen it before. I saw poverty not as a crippling thorn or an urgent need. I saw poverty as the accepted way of life.
All because the West has given Haiti its leftovers. We've given our second-rate stuff. The stuff we need to get out of the way in order to make room for the next season's latest. We've given our time but not our lives. We've given haughty advice but not humble attentiveness. We've given money but not sacrifice nor love.
For the first time in my life, I understood why Jesus condemned the rich people who gave at the temple out of their excess because I saw the damage that giving out of my own excess has done. The clothes I've bagged and sent to thrift stores without checking where those clothes actually go. The cheap toys or second-rate stuff I've sent with mission teams. I will be the first to raise my hand and say that I have not always given thoughtfully, sacrificially or generously.
We've given to Haiti out of our excess. We've given our leftovers, our second-hand stuff, our after-thoughts. What we've given has indeed not been what Creator God would call very good.
You see, we've given clothes, but we've taken away the business of a seamstress.
We've given rice, but we've taken away the livelihood of a farmer.
We've given houses, but we've taken away the dignity of home.
We've given stuff, but we've taken away the empowerment in choosing your possessions for yourself.
We've given aid and development programs, but we've taken away the pride in building up your own life, your own community, your own nation.
We thought we were giving so much, but were we really? We were giving the leftovers of our luxury so we could replace it with more luxury, and in the process we've taken away the people of Haiti's ability to fulfill their God-given mandate to take His very good creation and cultivate beauty, life, and community.
And yet.
Despite all that we've taken, the Haitian people and the country of Haiti still give.
They gave to my family and me as we were their guests for 6 days.
They welcomed us warmly. Like that moment when the mother of our Compassion boy Bell Bradley, Margaret, welcomed us into her home with such exuberance and joy and song that our translator could barely get a word in - but it didn't matter... Welcome sounds the same in every language.
They opened their homes and their families to us. Like that moment we sat in our Compassion girl, Linsey's home and shared conversation and laughter and gifts and precious time with her entire family. Or those crazy-bumpy car rides during which we shared laughter and conversation with Bell Bradley's family.
They shared their talents with us. Like that moment Linsey burst into song and shared her beautiful voice with us as we sat with her in the Compassion Centre's library. Or that moment Bell Bradley did the same the next day! (Singing was a theme of our visit days.) Or like those vendors who shared their beautiful crafts with us to take home as memories of our time in Haiti.
Haiti gave me rest and rejuvenation before the beginning of this new school year. Like those days at the beach resort where ocean waves and sandy beaches were the perfect company to rest and reflect and prepare my soul for the year ahead.
Haiti taught me lessons that a classroom would never be able to teach me. Like lessons about the power of a faithful organization such as Compassion, faithfully reflecting Christ to their own communities as the local church and gaining the trust and respect of even the most feared gangs in Haiti.
Daily, they give to so many other guests who I can only suspect had their lives changed or their faith renewed or their souls touched while in Haiti. Like the countless other Westerners I saw also travelling to, from, or within Haiti.
And they give to each other.
When given something very good, the people of Haiti, like any people, build something beautiful for themselves, for each other, for the glory of God. Yes, they're broken; yes, it's messy; yes, the make mistakes... just like you and me.
But just like you and I try to do each day, they cling to Jesus, put forward their lives to invest in their communities and invest in the Kingdom, and trust that Christ will do something beautiful in and through them.
I visited two local churches, just two examples of many, who are building something beautiful in their communities through the ministry of Compassion. In Jesus' name, they are raising up children out of poverty and into leaders who dream of becoming doctors and lawyers and engineers and everyday people who steward what God's given them to cultivate beauty, life, community, for themselves, for each other, for the glory of God.
And after all they've given us, despite all we've taken, isn't time we gave something real? Something sacrificial? Something very good?
Like the rich in the temple, we've proudly given out of our excess, given our leftovers for long enough.
Might we start giving our best, our very good? Might we start giving with a posture of sacrifice rather than from a place of excess?
Becoming a Compassion sponsor is one of the most tangible places to start. What they do is very good - I've seen it. Compassion isn't perfect, they don't have all the answers - nor would they ever claim to. But they are committed to faithfully putting what they know is very good - the influence and support of a strong local church, and most importantly, the gospel of Jesus Christ - into the lives of children in poverty, and watching those children begin to thrive.
How can you give beyond your excess, your leftovers? Perhaps it's sponsoring one child. Perhaps it's three. Perhaps it's three hundred.
But
I dare us to start giving of our money, our time, our influence, our power, our privilege, our talents, our love, our very lives in radical, Kingdom-shaped ways... Because I believe that the beauty, the life, the community that God intended for us way back in Eden is waiting on the other side of that radical generosity.
additional resources:
When Helping Hurts by Brian Fikkert and Steve Corbett
Subversive Jesus by Craig Greenfield
Poverty Inc. documentary
Monday, May 2, 2016
When Grace Comes Full Circle
There once was a twelve-year-old girl, who grew up in church and strived to follow Jesus with her all. She did all the right things, and checked them off a list... Morning devotionals, bedtime prayers, midweek church and Sunday school.
Little did she know all that she was missing by simply going through the motions.
Thankfully, God's got an abundance of amazing grace.
And so, one day, that girl stumbled upon a series of articles about the ministry of Compassion International in a magazine. They featured youth not much different from her, telling their stories about how they've partnered with local churches in the developing world to release children from poverty in Jesus' name... all because they had become Compassion sponsors.
Of course, she didn't know or understand all of that great stuff right away. She just thought this sounded like a cool idea. Sponsor a child. Write some letters. It'll be fun. It would be a good thing to do, right?
So she begged and begged and begged her parents to sponsor a Compassion child on her behalf. After a bit of skepticism, they finally relented. Fine, they said, we'll try it out.
Probably hoping she would just forget about it in a few months so they could cancel. ;)
Regardless, they became Compassion sponsors and eventually sponsored a little girl named Florianlyn from the Philippines.
And that girl who had begged and begged and begged? She was stoked.
Little did she know, this would literally change the trajectory of her life. In fact, it would change the trajectory of her entire family's story.
They would go on to all become volunteers with Compassion.
Their Compassion family would grow to include 10 children and 2 graduates.
They would visit the field not once, not twice, not thrice, but 4 times in just over 6 years of being Compassion sponsors.
She would go on to host Compassion Canada's youth curriculum, True Story: What God Wants Us To Do About Poverty.
Her mama would even end up working for Compassion Canada as their Ministry Relations Rep in the Greater Toronto Area... and she would relentlessly tease her mama - from skeptic to employee! ;)
Her family would begin to understand God's heart for the poor... and start to embrace the beautiful, messy, frustrating, and fulfilling journey He calls us to in the margins, serving society's "least of these".
Today, that girl is 19. And she's pausing here in the journey to write this post and reflect on how far He's taken her from just going through the motions in her faith. And she is incredibly thankful for His abundance of amazing grace.
And sitting here, on the eve of starting as an intern with Compassion Canada as part of the Flow Internship program (!!!), she's smiling at His latest installment of grace...
Because you see, little did she know all those years ago when reading about Compassion in a magazine, that almost seven years later, a column of her own would appear in a similar youth magazine called LoveIsMoving, telling the story of how she's partnered with local churches in the developing world to release children from poverty in Jesus' name... all because she and her family had become Compassion sponsors. :)
And when she held that magazine in her hands for the first time, she couldn't help but be incredibly, incredibly in awe of how grace comes full circle, as our Father continues to shower more and more of His amazing grace.
Check out LoveIsMoving Magazine... You might just see a familiar face! :)
Little did she know all that she was missing by simply going through the motions.
Thankfully, God's got an abundance of amazing grace.
And so, one day, that girl stumbled upon a series of articles about the ministry of Compassion International in a magazine. They featured youth not much different from her, telling their stories about how they've partnered with local churches in the developing world to release children from poverty in Jesus' name... all because they had become Compassion sponsors.
Of course, she didn't know or understand all of that great stuff right away. She just thought this sounded like a cool idea. Sponsor a child. Write some letters. It'll be fun. It would be a good thing to do, right?
So she begged and begged and begged her parents to sponsor a Compassion child on her behalf. After a bit of skepticism, they finally relented. Fine, they said, we'll try it out.
Probably hoping she would just forget about it in a few months so they could cancel. ;)
Regardless, they became Compassion sponsors and eventually sponsored a little girl named Florianlyn from the Philippines.
And that girl who had begged and begged and begged? She was stoked.
Little did she know, this would literally change the trajectory of her life. In fact, it would change the trajectory of her entire family's story.
They would go on to all become volunteers with Compassion.
Their Compassion family would grow to include 10 children and 2 graduates.
They would visit the field not once, not twice, not thrice, but 4 times in just over 6 years of being Compassion sponsors.
She would go on to host Compassion Canada's youth curriculum, True Story: What God Wants Us To Do About Poverty.
Her mama would even end up working for Compassion Canada as their Ministry Relations Rep in the Greater Toronto Area... and she would relentlessly tease her mama - from skeptic to employee! ;)
Her family would begin to understand God's heart for the poor... and start to embrace the beautiful, messy, frustrating, and fulfilling journey He calls us to in the margins, serving society's "least of these".
Today, that girl is 19. And she's pausing here in the journey to write this post and reflect on how far He's taken her from just going through the motions in her faith. And she is incredibly thankful for His abundance of amazing grace.
And sitting here, on the eve of starting as an intern with Compassion Canada as part of the Flow Internship program (!!!), she's smiling at His latest installment of grace...
Because you see, little did she know all those years ago when reading about Compassion in a magazine, that almost seven years later, a column of her own would appear in a similar youth magazine called LoveIsMoving, telling the story of how she's partnered with local churches in the developing world to release children from poverty in Jesus' name... all because she and her family had become Compassion sponsors. :)
And when she held that magazine in her hands for the first time, she couldn't help but be incredibly, incredibly in awe of how grace comes full circle, as our Father continues to shower more and more of His amazing grace.
Check out LoveIsMoving Magazine... You might just see a familiar face! :)
Sunday, January 10, 2016
Welcome Home
When the day was over, all I could think about was what a shame it is that anyone could ever say no to this... and miss out on all this beauty.
Because all of this - yes, it's about this beautiful family being welcomed home. It's about their tears and relief and safety and joy. It's about giving them the opportunity to safely and freely grow and learn and laugh and love. It's about exemplifying a radical Love to them until all the hate they've ever known melts away.
But at the end of what was quite possibly one of my favourite days ever, I realized that this might be more about us, than them.
Because you know what? Without us, this family would've still been welcomed to Canada. The Canadian government would've still accepted their application. Another sponsoring group would've been in our place. This family would've still had loving sponsors who would've been committed to moving them into an apartment, helping them register for school and ESL, sourcing furniture and household items and raising funds to support them for a year... all of it.
The only ones who would've missed out is us.
We would've missed this beauty. We would've missed this joy. We would've missed the opportunity to get to know the Jesus we follow in one of the most real ways there is, because when we welcome the stranger, we welcome Him.
We would've missed out on experiencing the Body of Christ come together in one of the most beautiful ways I have ever witnessed, to declare with our lives that Love is greater than fear, apathy, intolerance or hate.
Because yesterday, I saw 35+ people - and not to mention the hundreds more that have generously given money, time, donations, prayers and love to get us to yesterday's move-day - come together as the Body of Christ to move a formerly displaced Syrian family into their new home, filling it with furniture, household items, laughter, life, and love.
And this family... they've been through far too much brokenness and pain. The displaced, broken parts of every human heart - those parts that choose fear and violence and apathy and hate because our human hearts war and rage against Love Himself until we displace ourselves from the Love that created us - that brokenness left this family without a home or a safe place to grow, live, and love.
In fact, those displaced, broken parts of our hearts have left millions without a safe place to call home.
My mama read it to us just today, on the way home from visiting our family... "There are 60 million displaced persons in the world," she reads, "12 million in Syria alone."
It's a staggering, overwhelming number... One that grows each day as war continues unfazed.
"But you know what?" I responded to my mama's stat, "Four of those 60 million people aren't displaced anymore."
No, they certainly are not. They are laying their heads down tonight in their very own home - safe, warm, together.
And as I quietly smiled at that fact, I thought -
Perhaps those displaced, broken parts of our own hearts might just have a chance as well.
Definitely one of my favourite days ever. It's hard to express the fullness that we all felt at the end of the day. Please continue keeping this family in your prayers as the settle in - that in the midst of what is surely going to be a tough next few months that they might find peace and hope in the Love we will try our hardest to continuously share with them.
Because all of this - yes, it's about this beautiful family being welcomed home. It's about their tears and relief and safety and joy. It's about giving them the opportunity to safely and freely grow and learn and laugh and love. It's about exemplifying a radical Love to them until all the hate they've ever known melts away.
But at the end of what was quite possibly one of my favourite days ever, I realized that this might be more about us, than them.
Because you know what? Without us, this family would've still been welcomed to Canada. The Canadian government would've still accepted their application. Another sponsoring group would've been in our place. This family would've still had loving sponsors who would've been committed to moving them into an apartment, helping them register for school and ESL, sourcing furniture and household items and raising funds to support them for a year... all of it.
The only ones who would've missed out is us.
We would've missed this beauty. We would've missed this joy. We would've missed the opportunity to get to know the Jesus we follow in one of the most real ways there is, because when we welcome the stranger, we welcome Him.
We would've missed out on experiencing the Body of Christ come together in one of the most beautiful ways I have ever witnessed, to declare with our lives that Love is greater than fear, apathy, intolerance or hate.
Because yesterday, I saw 35+ people - and not to mention the hundreds more that have generously given money, time, donations, prayers and love to get us to yesterday's move-day - come together as the Body of Christ to move a formerly displaced Syrian family into their new home, filling it with furniture, household items, laughter, life, and love.
 |
| From empty apartment... |
 |
| ...to warm, home sweet home. |
And this family... they've been through far too much brokenness and pain. The displaced, broken parts of every human heart - those parts that choose fear and violence and apathy and hate because our human hearts war and rage against Love Himself until we displace ourselves from the Love that created us - that brokenness left this family without a home or a safe place to grow, live, and love.
In fact, those displaced, broken parts of our hearts have left millions without a safe place to call home.
My mama read it to us just today, on the way home from visiting our family... "There are 60 million displaced persons in the world," she reads, "12 million in Syria alone."
It's a staggering, overwhelming number... One that grows each day as war continues unfazed.
"But you know what?" I responded to my mama's stat, "Four of those 60 million people aren't displaced anymore."
No, they certainly are not. They are laying their heads down tonight in their very own home - safe, warm, together.
And as I quietly smiled at that fact, I thought -
Perhaps those displaced, broken parts of our own hearts might just have a chance as well.
Definitely one of my favourite days ever. It's hard to express the fullness that we all felt at the end of the day. Please continue keeping this family in your prayers as the settle in - that in the midst of what is surely going to be a tough next few months that they might find peace and hope in the Love we will try our hardest to continuously share with them.
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