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.

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

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.

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.

#1000gifts ~ We visited this sweet little one and her family tonight... she proudly showed me this picture of ME that she drew! Isn't she adorable and the drawing the absolute cutest?!? :: "For such a time as now..." #WeWelcomeRefugees!!! :: I am saddened by the fact that America is about to close its doors shut to refugees. My hope is that Canada will continue to keep our doors wide open! :: Tonight, just quietly reading this: http://www.relevantmagazine.com/god/what-bible-says-about-how-treat-refugees

A photo posted by Aimee Esparaz (@mama2greatkids) on Jan 25, 2017 at 5:02pm PST

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.

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.

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.

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.

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."

There are 60million displaced persons in the world. 12million in Syria alone. This must break the heart of heaven - Bill Hybels @willowcreekcc #wewelcomerefugees

A photo posted by We Welcome Refugees (@wewelcomerefugees) on Jan 10, 2016 at 1:24pm PST

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. 

Dear Sweet Little Girl*,

This all started with a little boy just a little younger than you and your brother.

This entire day, it happened because of Aylan's tiny, lifeless body washed up on the shore of the Mediterranean.

And quite honestly, sweet girl? I was discouraged for once. This optimist wasn't so hopeful this time around. I didn't let my heart hope for even a second... I thought I knew that Aylan's photo would cause a lot of retweets but not a lot of actual action.

I had accepted that all that would come across the air to Canada from Syria would be more stories of despair.

Yet here you are.

I suppose I forgot that there are good people in the world. I forgot that there are many, many people just waiting for an opportunity to birth Love into this world.

Because yesterday, sweet girl, I saw Love birthed into the world like I've never seen before. I saw the Body of Christ come together and come alive and bear His image to you and your family in one of the most beautiful ways I have ever seen. 

I can only imagine how confused you must feel right now... They told you that you were coming to Canada, and then you got on a plane, travelled 16+ hours and were put up in a strange hotel in a strange city for the night. Then in the morning, you were shuffled out of that room and told to wait in the lobby.

Your poor parents were told nothing of a sponsoring group... Nothing of the God-sent apartment that had been rented for you or the sweet family with beds made in their spare room just waiting to host you for the week while the aforementioned apartment's paperwork goes through. Nothing of the team of people who have sourced furniture and found Arabic-speaking doctors and researched schools... none of it.

I can just imagine how disorienting this must feel. Like maybe this was all a bad idea after all.

And when I saw the tears and relief in your parents' kind, weary, and courageous eyes as our translator told them that we had been preparing to welcome them for months, my heart could've just about burst.

When the whole lot of us huddled into that conference room of that hotel - the whole mismatched group of us, beautifully brought together because of a desire to welcome you - and your papa said that thing about feeling like we are your new Canadian family? Oh, little girl, I think even the toughest of us were tearing up.

Because this is it! This is the Love we get to share in the midst of a broken world. And how could we ever say no to this? How could we dare to miss this?

And then we went to that restaurant serving up meals from your homeland and okay, the whole party of us? We were hard to miss.

So a regular at that restaurant leans to the waitress and asks What on earth is going on over there? and the waitress tells her the bits of our story that she's gathered in all of five minutes of us being there and soon after that regular customer leaves, that waitress is over at our table letting us know that our entire tab had been picked up by that stranger.

But it didn't stop there. That waitress herself picked up the tab for our coffee afterwards, and the owner sent you home with a box full of meals on the house for your first week in Canada... A taste of home to help with the homesickness.

And I'm realizing that we live in an ocean of grace. We live in a world where people are ready and waiting to birth Love into this world, and we can believe in the hatred we see on the news, or we can believe in Love. 

Dear sweet little girl, it is just all too fitting that your family is ringing in the new year in a new country with a fresh start lying ahead. Yet I can only imagine how tough this coming year will be for you. It will be a long process of getting accustomed to life here - one that will at times be messy and frustrating, yet also, we hope, fulfilling and incredibly beautiful.

Know that we, your new Canadian family, will be there with you every step of the way.

Because sweet girl - we believe in Love and we pray that you and your beautiful family will come to believe in Love, too.




Yes, the first of two Syrian refugee families that our church family is sponsoring landed in Canada this week! We met them yesterday, New Year's Eve - and how fitting is that?! Your prayers are mightily appreciated as we step into this year-long journey together. #WeWelcomeRefugees


*As of now, our family prefers not to be named publicly on the internet.

Dear Aylan (Part 2) -

You, little angel - I think you changed the world.

The last time I wrote to you we were all still reeling. We were just learning your name and your story and how we could have saved you and we were all shocked numb.

And I told you that all I could pray is that you did not die in vain. "That your death would, if not convict us, then embarrass us to action."

If I'm honest with you, Aylan? I wasn't feeling very hopeful when I signed off on that letter. I was angry. 

I was angry that we would forget you. 

But you know what? We haven't yet. 

There are people all over the world telling the story of your people, hearing the story of your people, and most importantly, welcoming the stories of your people into their own stories by opening their borders, their homes, their lives. 

It became real this week, Aylan. Mennonite Central Committee matched our church family with the first of two refugee families that we will be welcoming into Canada and into our lives in a few short months.

And yeah, we have zero clue what we're doing. 

Because there are fears and doubts and worries and just the straight-up inability to speak Arabic, you know? 

And wow, there's those nasty things people say on the internet about you and your people, little Aylan. How come we blame you for wanting a share of the security, the laughter, and simply the breath in our lungs that we take for granted every single day?

And then there's this huge task ahead of us of finding an apartment and doctors and people to show our new friends how to ride a Canadian bus and shop at a Canadian grocery store. And then there's preparing for the stories and the trauma that this family might carry on their shoulders after their long, long journey out of a war zone and into our lives. 

But here's the best part: we serve a Jesus who has filled our community with hearts to serve and gifts to share - doctors and teachers and expert-apartment hunters and people who know Arabic-speakers. And the most awesome people who are willing to spend their days finding and sorting furniture and household items to fill our families' not-yet-found apartments and others who are willing to clear their garages for a free place to hold it all in the meantime.

This is community. 

This is how we come together as the Body of Christ to respond to the worst refugee crisis since World War II. 

We're smack in the middle of history and when it's all said and done we want to be remembered as the generation who welcomed the strangers as if they were Christ himself, running into Egypt, fleeing Herod's slaughter as a refugee.

I remember reading an article back in Grade 10 while writing a history essay. It told the story of a boat filled to the brim with Jewish refugees and bobbing on the shores of Canada. 

And I remember being so angry, Aylan, because do you know what happened next? We turned them away. We listened to our fear of the other and we told them straight-up to turn around and they sailed straight back to their deaths in those horrific concentration camps. 

I remember thinking it - if I had the chance I would have let them in.

And here's that chance. Our chance to respond with love and open arms, so that a student much like me, writing her own history essay many, many years from now, will be able to say - 

We Welcome Refugees.

I was a stranger and you welcomed Me.

Matthew 25:35

As we prepare to welcome two refugee families, our church community would so deeply value and appreciate first and foremost, your prayers, because yeah, for something like this? You can never have enough prayer. Secondly, we would be so thankful for your financial support and (for those in the Toronto, ON area) your tangible contributions. Learn more at www.tinyurl.com/SyriaResponse. All donations made between now and Thanksgiving Monday will be matched by a generous donor. Thank you. 

Dear Nameless Boy -

Edit: The boy has since been identified as 3-year-old Aylan Kurdi.

This picture of you ravaged the world yesterday. (Link includes a graphic image that I decided to keep off my blog in order to give you the choice whether or not to click and view it. I strongly encourage you to choose to view it, because the world needs to see - really see - this photo.)

You stopped me dead in my tracks and yeah, the world isn't sure how to go on.

But then we will.

And I'm sorry, sweet little boy.

I am so. angrily. horribly. sorry.

And that sounds pretty pathetic and oh how worthless it is to you now, but I somehow have to say this anyway, for the sake of those that will come after you.

I'm sorry that we will solemnly shake our heads at that photo of you - today's top story - at six o'clock and then enjoy laughter and family time at the dinner table at seven.

I'm sorry that this week we're ready to cry an ocean of tears, and next week you'll be but a distant memory as we, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, embrace the first week of school and the flurry of activity that comes with it - things you'll never have the opportunity to know.

I'm sorry that as my country's leaders campaign to become the most powerful person in this country, we are more concerned with scandals and with pensions and with daycares and with rich guys and a squandered 90k than we are with you. I'm sorry that you and your people aren't a big-ticket campaign issue and I'm sorry that my people don't care enough to demand that you are.

I'm sorry that we think you're the government's problem.

I'm sorry that being sorry just simply isn't enough.

Because sweet boy, I'm downright embarrassed to tell you that as more than 2500 men, women and children just like you have perished on the Mediterranean this year, here in my homeland - a place of luxury that you could probably only dream of - we've been "fleeing" our own homes to go on vacation. We've been up in arms about a lion. We've been seeing who can make and try the craziest foods at my city's annual exhibition. We've been arguing with each other over the saddest, most pathetic things.

Oh, I squirm while saying this to you - we've been living mindless lives instead of loving you until you're simply able to live.

We've filled churches on Sundays while you and your people filled boats and sailed straight to death - and are we really being the Church or just filling steepled buildings hollow?

Because we're full of empty good intentions and real-sounding excuses when we should be full of the love of Christ. 

And sweet boy, this is my apology, this is my outcry, but mostly this is my confession. 

Because while that mortifying picture of you should anger me and convict me until I'm nothing short of doing a radical thing like boarding a plane and personally escorting a family like yours to safety*, the embarassing truth is that I'm probably going to tap out this blog post, retweet a few links, maybe make a donation, and then forget while I go to university to learn how to save the world when what really needs saving is you.

Here is the truth, tiny little nameless boy: I don't have the answers.

My soul aches a thousand aches to say that. I don't have the answers. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to save you and I don't know how to end a war that is continually pushing more and more of your people into the same situation as yours.

And I will never understand any of this while I am on this side of heaven.

Here is where I would usually write something to the effect of What I do know is that I serve and cling to a Jesus who has already overcome all the brokenness in this world.

And yes. Yes, I do. I certainly, most definitely do. That is always and enternally humanity's blessed hope.

But for your people that are still bobbing on the Mediterranean, I'm not sure those words are enough - unless my people act on those words like they are true.

And for my people that are still mindlessly bobbing around our luxurious world, I think those words might be too much - we take them as a licence for inaction when we actually have a role to play in overcoming the brokenness of this world.

Nameless boy, I feel like weeping as I say this all to you.

And I simply hope and pray that you did not die in vain. That your death would, if not convict us, then embarrass us to action.






*So maybe that get-on-a-plane plan is not the smartest or most sustainable. But if you are feeling a little radical, this link is for you. Or, you can donate here to help Mennonite Central Committee bring the hope and love of Christ to refugee camps in the Middle East. Or, you can get involved with an organization in your city like Matthew House Toronto, people who are welcoming and supporting new refugees to the city. Or, there's this letter that Ann Voskamp wrote and this community that she's started over on Facebook… a whole bunch of people coming together to say that we will welcome refugees with the love of Christ, now let's figure out how.

Man, was this ever heart-wrenching to write. I think I'm a bit of a bad writer today for not having a better point at the end, but I just needed to get something out to shine a light on this. Yeah, it can seem bleak and hopeless, but I meant what I said: We serve a Jesus who has already overcome... now let's start acting on those words like they're true. At the end of this blog post, I still don't have the answers and I still don't know what to do. But we can start by doing what we can and doing it as though it were for Christ himself. Let's start there, and maybe - just maybe - we'll save some nameless boys and let them know that He knows their name.

Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;

I have called you by name; you are Mine!

Isaiah 43:1