Everyday Life

I've seen parts of the world over the last week that I've never seen before. I've traveled farther away from home than I've ever been. I have experienced first-hand what it feels like to truly be a stranger in a strange land. It's been a lot to take in. And to be quite honest, I think this experience is something that I will be processing through for many weeks to come.

 

You see, for those of you who may not know, I've been part of a small team that has journeyed to Berlin, Germany and Sicily, Italy to meet with people and teams who are on the front lines of the refugee crisis that has taken western Europe by storm. Actually, I think a better way to phrase that would be the refugee crisis that has come to the rest of the world for rescue. And relief. I'm sure you've seen the news recently. People pouring in by the boatload (literally) onto Sicily's shores. Individuals and families seeking shelter in Germany after fleeing a war-torn country that no longer looks like the place they've called home. I've heard a lot of stories over the past several days that can only be described as horrifying at best. This isn't the space to recount those stories - and I'm not really sure I want to. What I really want to do in this space is recount the journey I've been over the past 10 days.

 

A few days before we left for this trip, I woke up very early in the morning on the edge of a full blown panic attack. The problem was that I had been experiencing underlying anxieties about the trip to come, and I was largely ignoring them. It finally reached the point where I could no longer leave these worries undealt with. So I got out of bed, went to my desk, pulled out my journal, opened my Bible and wept. Here is an example of what my prayer was in that moment: "[Lord] Why are we the ones being sent on this trip? We don't speak German. We don't speak Arabic. We've never ministered to muslims. We have never ministered to refugees. We don't speak Italian. We are probably the most unqualified people to be going on this trip—and yet, here we are. We're going to look like idiots..." Now, I know that when the Lord leads us into something, He equips us for the work ahead—and feeling unqualified is probably where He can do the best work. But I wasn't in a good space in that moment. And the Lord, because He is good and kind and patient, simply responded with "Because I've chosen you to go. Because there are things that I want you see." End of story—you can't argue with that. Then I turned to Deuteronomy 10, and have carried that passage with me for the past several days.

 

In case you don't want to turn there and see for yourself, here is what is said in Deuteronomy 10 - more specifically verses 12-13 and 16-20: "And now Israel, what does the Lord your God require of you, but to fear the Lord your God, to walk in all His ways, to love him, to serve the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and to keep the commandments and statues of the Lord...? [...] Circumcise the foreskin of your heart, and be no longer stubborn. For the Lord your God of gods and Lord of lords, the great, the mighty, and the awesome God, who is not partial and takes no bribe. He executes justice for the fatherless and the widow, and loves the sojourner, giving him food and clothing. Love the sojourner, therefore, for you were sojourners in the land of Egypt."

 

Now, go back and insert your name where it says "Israel" - and instead of Egypt, insert whatever context you find yourself in. Because the truth of the matter is we are sojourners in this land. It's not our home. We've been brought into the family of God. We who were on the outside have been brought in. But the work isn't done. There are still people on the outside who need to be brought in. There are still the fatherless, the widow and the refugee who need shelter, food and support - yes - but more than that, they need the hope of Jesus and the kingdom that he brings. There are too many people on the outside who need to be brought in. Who need to know that there even is an "in" to be brought into! So what the Lord was saying to me that night—and over the past several days—is "Now Julia, what do I require of you? To walk with me. Soften your heart, and do what I'm doing." We like to sing about the reckless love of God on Sunday mornings. It feels so awesome and personal when we sing in the context of thinking about ourselves: There's no shadow he won't light up, no mountain he won't climb up coming after me. There's no wall he won't kick down, lie he won't tear down coming after me. And then we leave it at that.

 

But I've got to tell you—His reckless love extends beyond us. What I have heard Him say over the past several days as I have quietly asked the question "why am I here?" when faced with the heaviness of what surrounds me is the quiet response of "Because I see them. Because I love them." Have you ever thought about the fact that His reckless love works itself out through our lives? We who are on the inside are part of the process of climbing up the mountains, tearing down the lies, and lighting up the dark for those who need to see the hope He gives. That's what we have to offer refugees. We're qualified because we're on the inside—and now we get to join with others on the frontlines to bring those without hope in with us.

 

So what is the Lord saying to all of us through this? "Now [insert your name here], what do I require of you? Walk with me. Soften your heart, and be part of what I'm doing." Because His reckless love is extravagant, and there are too many on the outside who need to be brought in.