isaiah i love you

Isaiah 58:7-12
“No, this is the kind of fasting I want: Free those who are wrongly imprisoned; lighten the burden of those who work for you.
Let the oppressed go free, and remove the chains that bind people.
Share your food with the hungry, and give shelter to the homeless.
Give clothes to those who need them, and do not hide from relatives who need your help.
Then your salvation will come like the dawn, and your wounds will quickly heal.
Your godliness will lead you forward, and the glory of the Lord will protect you from behind.
Then when you call, the Lord will answer. ‘Yes, I am here,’ he will quickly reply.

Remove the heavy yoke of oppression. Stop pointing your finger and spreading vicious rumors!
Feed the hungry, and help those in trouble.
Then your light will shine out from the darkness,
and the darkness around you will be as bright as noon.
The Lord will guide you continually, giving you water when you are dry and restoring your strength.
You will be like a well-watered garden, like an ever-flowing spring.
Some of you will rebuild the deserted ruins of your cities.
Then you will be known as a rebuilder of walls and a restorer of homes.

I haven't intentionally preached on the internet for a while, but I was inspired by Sharon's sermon at UPC on Sunday, and the stories from the Laos trip.

I am transfixed by the idea that by Living out Justice, we are healed. That it has nothing to do with how religious we think that we behave, what vocabulary we use, or what church we go to (or don't). It has everything to do with restoring humanity to one another: freeing the oppressed, sharing the dignity of food with people who are hungry, creating homes for/with people who have lost everything. Then, as sure as the sun rising every morning, THEN will our own redemption come.

And, somehow, this Christian faith claims, that in the midst of all the struggle and the pain, and the hurt, in this dehumanized isolated world, then all the sudden our lives will become clear. We will be restored when we are tired. We will become ever flowing, by entering into the most draining relationships. Isn't that ridiculous? and beautiful?

(I love The Message's Version too)

If you are generous with the hungry
and start giving yourselves to the down-and-out,
Your lives will begin to glow in the darkness,
your shadowed lives will be bathed in sunlight.
I will always show you where to go.
I'll give you a full life in the emptiest of places—
firm muscles, strong bones.
You'll be like a well-watered garden,
a gurgling spring that never runs dry.
You'll use the old rubble of past lives to build anew,
rebuild the foundations from out of your past.
You'll be known as those who can fix anything,
restore old ruins, rebuild and renovate,
make the community livable again

I am the luckiest girl in the world, sometimes. I get to live and work in this community at Romero House, and I get to see how these people LIVE that. I get to see lives made new, old ruins of tortured bodies renewed into full human beings (capable of giving and receiving love). I live in a community full of life, comprised of people who are defined by their individualized persecution and threatened status. People who have been rejected and attacked by their governments, paramilitary groups, husbands, and neighbors come together in this place, and create a livable community. And this brings me so much life. I am healed by their redemption. We give and receive one anothers gifts, and then, we are individually and communally healed.

Hey guess what y'all? I'm comin home to Fresno.

Why? because of Egypt. because of people doing what is right for their families and their neighbors. because of Christians guarding their Muslim brothers during prayer. because of nonviolence (mostly), and democracy in action.

because I listened to Sharon's sermon (heard here), and because there is so much love and strength in my home. And its my turn to be with the people whom i claim in my blood.

Decision made! (I think)

When I think about Egypt. When I pour over the news, and listen to al-Jazeera, when I read the letter sent my Katie's friend (evacuated from Cairo), I want to go home.
I want to ally myself with what is happening there.
I want to stand with the people who claim me.
This I claim is true.
I feel selfish to stay here. I feel like I am living the Life of luxury.
I feel called home. I have visions of Fresno, of community, of kids laughing and reading.
I feel called to Southeast Asia, to see where those of my people come from. (In Jean Vanier's sense)

"'My people are my community, which is both the small community, those who live together, and the larger community which surrounds it and for which it is there. 'My people' are those who are written in my flesh as I am in theirs. Whether we are near each other or far away, my brothers and sisters remain written within me. I carry them, and they, me; we recognise each other again when we meet. To call them 'my people' doesn't mean that I feel superior to them, or that I am their shepherd or that I look after them. It means that they are mine as I am theirs. There is a solidarity between us. What touches them, touches me. And when I say 'my people', I don't imply that there are others I reject. My people is my community, made up of those who know me and carry me. They are a springboard towards all humanity. I cannot be a universal brother or sister unless I first love my people. (Community and Growth. p 16-17)

To remain here, would mean continuing to live community, to continue to learn through struggle and strife how to live together with human beings. To move home, the meaning of community is less distinct. It is no longer 6 interns, supporting and loving a larger community of 40 people, who inspire and encourage countless others, refugee, immigrant, Permanent Resident, citizen alike. It would be more of a conscious effort for me to recognize and encourage my relationships with people less physically present in every moment of my life.

It would be incredibly good for my soul to stay here. It would be good for my resume, it would be good for my relationships here.

I know all that, and yet, I feel like I need to say yes to the even more ultimate unknown. I need to say yes to Fresno, to the possibility that I can still by myself and still grow in community, still grow as a Human Being. That Fresno has the same potential as Romero House(if not more) of being good for my soul.
I am young, but I will grow strong. I can be more, and I want to step out of the boat into the Valley where I haven't lived in ages.

I'm excited about the possibilities. There are always possibilities.

..somehow i had forgotten...

...how much Martin Luther King talked about God/Jesus/the Church right alongside those often quoted statements of Justice/Love/Nonviolence.

This is the actual context of one of my favorite quotes of his... I enlarged the part of the quote I remembered hearing... (Its from a sermon "Transformed Nonconformist" included in the book Strength to Love)

We need to recapture the gospel glow of the early Christians who were nonconformist in the truest sense of the word and refused to shape their witness according to the mundane patterns of the world. Willingly they sacrificed fame, fortune, and life itself in behalf of a cause they knew to be right. Quantitatively small, they were qualitatively giants. Their powerful gospel put an end to such barbaric evils as infanticide and bloody gladiatorial contests...
Gradually, however, the church became so entrenched in wealth and prestige that it began to dilute the strong demands of the gospel and to conform to the ways of the world. And ever since, the church has been a weak and ineffectual trumpet making uncertain sounds. If the church of Jesus Christ is to regain once more its power, message and authentic ring, it must conform only to the demands of the gospel. The hope of a secure and livable world lies with disciplined nonconformists who are dedicated to justice, peace, and brotherhood.

Its a slightly different message... full of a wider Truth, but also much stricter.

And in honor of the great man slain, here's another quote (full of hope)

“When our days become dreary with low hovering clouds of despair, and when our nights become darker than a thousand midnights, let us remember that there is a creative force in this universe, working to pull down the gigantic mountains of evil, a power that is able to make a way out of no way and transform dark yesterdays into bright tomorrows. Let us realize the arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice.” — Martin Luther King Jr.

But let us remember that Christ became a person of his people, of his time;
he lived as a Jew; he labored as a worker in Nazareth;
and ever since, he is made flesh in all people.
If many have moved away from the church, it is precisely because the church has been a little alienated from humanity.
But a church that would feel as its own all that is human,
and would wish to incarnate within itself
the sorrow, hope and anguish
of all who suffer and rejoice
that church would be Christ
loved and awaited,
Christ present
And that depends on us.

Archbishop Oscar Romero
3 December 1978

lives in community, this she knows.
for the clean oven tells us so.
lots of fish fat fell below,
and then got burnt while dinner she cooked.
YES, she made a big mess.
yes, oven cleaner smells bad.
yes, she lives in community:
the clean oven tells us so.

...

I'm trying to get words out, so that I can move forward in my life here. Its been weirder than expected being back. Maybe it was all the reminders of how beautiful life can be in Fresno, or maybe its just nice traveling somewhere new. Maybe its the new plans that started to fill my head after that Fresno-Walmart sadness. I am the luckiest girl in the world to be able to work/live here. i love the people. I love the style of job and way of being here. But, I've started plotting my great move west, and all the sudden, I actually have to live here with real human beings, who are a lot less exciting than how I was remembering them.

and this is love, yes? the inane everything that we claim has some hidden beauty. the celebrations over snow forts and ghosts in my unoccupied room. Huddling under blankets watching a movie. being asked about my mom and my brother only because I exist and have them. writing silly lyrics to a song and hiding them under the microwave. two year olds that remember our faces and where we sit in the office while we were gone. another family accepted as convention refugees. staying up late chatting with a sleeping low-grade fevered child and worried parents. someone else doing the dishes when i cook. (doing someone elses dishes when they cook).

the alternate reality of a kingdom come.

(today i referenced a phone call I thought I had received 2-3 days prior. it turns out it had happened only yesterday...)

And suddenly, I am back in Toronto.

At first overjoyed, I spent a long time rearranging my room, hoping it would feel again like home. Like the next episode of my big adult adventure of: Living Life Anywhere I Want. Neeny Do It Self.

And I am remembering the not so exciting things. The people that annoy me. The ungracious parts of my personality. (we can only learn love through community, especially from the parts where we fail at love)

I am in love with some ideal of Fresno, and now I am here. I am good at my job here. People like me here. I have some incredible friendships here.

Here the trees grow thick, retire with dignity.

Winter floods us with precious water, and we dance outside

barefoot, without freezing.

The sun streams through the window and I am warm under covers,

dreaming of an ideal that slips through my bloodstream on its own accord

if i focus in, the vision escapes my grasp. and blurs.

i want to write a poem about the dirt that grew us.

The people of the valley, passionate and stubborn,

the activists who taught us, the films on walk-outs and choices.

the teachers who raised us, educated us to speak kindly. speak out.

our parents who sent us Elsewhere to get A Good Education.

how now do i live?