The last couple of nights I've been kind of down. I've been hanging out with people and have been having a great time, but when they leave I begin to reflect and I get this anxious and sad feeling in my heart.
See, for the first time in my life, (except once, but that lasted like 3 hours) I've been doubting God not for intellectual reasons or lack of understanding or lack of faith, but because of power. I know in my head that God's power is unlimited, but my heart has been anxious to see that power in action, and it feels as if He is sitting on His thumbs when His mighty working is needed.
I've got a friend who's really been struggling lately. He's had a rough life and has gotten this feeling that God has cut him a raw deal. The struggles that he so desperately wants to throw off keep plaguing him. His desires seem unfulfilled. These struggles and feelings of disappointment are pulling him into dangerous waters; he's ready to throw in the towel. And what I want so desperately to see happen in his life seems to be on the other side of an impossible battle.
I tutor these Somalian refugee kids. They are struggling to make it in this life. I read their report cards and see things like "minimal proficiency" "at risk" and "negative attitude." They are getting sucked into the gang life--into drugs, violence, and sexual promiscuity. At 12 and 13 they have to translate everything for their parents--forced into the role of an adult before their time. They live with a shell of Muslim religion they seem to know so little about and which seems to do nothing for them, other than prevent them from eating pork and petting dogs. And what I want so desperately to see happen in their lives seems to be on the other side of an impossible battle.
I have these friends at work. Some are Mormon, and they've bought so hard into this religion that I see to be a deception, that they seem content to live with meaningless legalism. Some of them aren't Mormon but want nothing to do with religion because of the hypocrisy they've seen. I've been working to establish stronger and stronger relationships with them, and I find that I truly love them, which hurts because I want them to have what's most important to me. And what I want so desperately to see happen in their lives seems to be on the other side of an impossible battle.
We've had all these new young people come to our church lately. They've been in and out. It seems like we just start establishing a relationship with them, and then they just disappear. They come in so hungry, and we start to show them where to eat, and they slip out the back door. And what I want so desperately to see for this ministry seems to be on the other side of an impossible battle.
When I get to thinking about all these, I get a little low. And when I think about the battles that are raging, I start to think about me. I think about all the stuff that holds me down. I think about the countless times I've let the Lord down. I think about the times I've just completely botched my witness in front of my friends. I think about the struggles inside me that I've sworn for the thousandth time would end today. And what I want so desperately to see happen in my own life seems to be on the other side of an impossible battle.
Last night before I fell asleep, with this anxious, sad feeling stirring in my gut, I became almost desperate to see God's power at work. All these battles to be fought and I feel like "where's the power to fight these?" So, I'm a little low.
"Holy Spirit, breathe of the living God, renew me and all the world."
Saturday, June 02, 2007
Fixing problems
The other day I went to a meeting of people that advocate for the refugee population here in Salt Lake City. This has become my second full-time job out here. I had Wednesday through Saturday off this week (oh the joys of being a nurse), and I was with them for at least three or four hours each of those days. But back to the meeting.
A lady who teaches ESL at one of the local schools here but is just starting to volunteer with our group was at the meeting. She made a comment that meet with unanimous approval, head nods, claps, and "absolutely's" from around the circle, including myself, as if she had hit our purpose right on the head. The moment I stopped parroting the approval, I realized with a sense of horror what I had just approved.
It's not that the lady suggested we bomb government buildings, or made some overtly demeaning or racist remark (emphasis on overtly), or something else horrible like that. She simply said that research showed that if we don't intervene with a population like this, who has been so traumatized already, they will turn to drugs, alcohol, violence and other destructive behaviors. She concluded by saying that what we were doing was for the good of the community, that it was essential to preserve our community.
Maybe that doesn't sound horrible to you; it didn't immediately to me either. I mean she is right, research probably does indicate all of those things (I see it with my own eyes). Let me tell you one other comment before I share my sense of horror.
One of the ladies that leads these meetings said to me a bit later on in the conversation, "Jake, why don't you take some of these new volunteers and introduce them to the families you've been working with, and then once they get started, you can move on to a new family."
Are you kidding me? Move on to a new family? These families aren't just some problems I'm trying to fix, so that as soon as someone else can deal with them, I can move on to the next problem. These are people; people I love. That's why I reacted (delayed as it was) so badly to what the teacher had said. What we are doing is for the good of the community? Sure, but that isn't what I'm there for. I'm not helping these families because I'm worried that if I don't one more user and one more pusher will be added to my streets. No, I'm helping them because I'm terrified that that user or that pusher might have a name, and it might be the name of one of my boys. I don't give a rip about statistics, but I'll fight with my whole being to make sure that one of my kids doesn't become one.
Now I was the only Christian at the meeting, so maybe I took a unique perspective. (Don't get me wrong, these people are wonderful.) Or maybe I'm over reacting. But I firmly believe that I'm part of a kingdom (The Kingdom) that has a unique concern for individuals. There isn't concern for individuals over and against the community, but the two are held in a tension. Mine is a kingdom in which the shepherd leaves the 99 to find the 1, but mine is also a kingdom in which "the many parts make one body."
And the issue here, as I think about it, isn't even community vs. individual. In a community the members are still people. The problem here is the typical "fix it" American mentality, which usually has self at the center. See we can be awfully generous (at least in our own minds) when we are trying to fix problems. And that is what we see, problems, not people. We throw money at everything because we believe it fixes everything. But it doesn't fix people. And we throw our ingenuity, our activism, and our left-over time at problems, because these fix problems. But they don't fix people. People are messy and you just can't fix them.
We will only begin to understand what true generosity and true community are when we stop trying to fix problems, and just start treating people like people. When we learn to love people--messy, awkward, error-prone people, whom we find to be strangely like ourselves--then, and only then, will we make a difference--a difference that will be felt community-wide.
Quit fixing problems and start loving people. And Holy Spirit, make it true of me.
A lady who teaches ESL at one of the local schools here but is just starting to volunteer with our group was at the meeting. She made a comment that meet with unanimous approval, head nods, claps, and "absolutely's" from around the circle, including myself, as if she had hit our purpose right on the head. The moment I stopped parroting the approval, I realized with a sense of horror what I had just approved.
It's not that the lady suggested we bomb government buildings, or made some overtly demeaning or racist remark (emphasis on overtly), or something else horrible like that. She simply said that research showed that if we don't intervene with a population like this, who has been so traumatized already, they will turn to drugs, alcohol, violence and other destructive behaviors. She concluded by saying that what we were doing was for the good of the community, that it was essential to preserve our community.
Maybe that doesn't sound horrible to you; it didn't immediately to me either. I mean she is right, research probably does indicate all of those things (I see it with my own eyes). Let me tell you one other comment before I share my sense of horror.
One of the ladies that leads these meetings said to me a bit later on in the conversation, "Jake, why don't you take some of these new volunteers and introduce them to the families you've been working with, and then once they get started, you can move on to a new family."
Are you kidding me? Move on to a new family? These families aren't just some problems I'm trying to fix, so that as soon as someone else can deal with them, I can move on to the next problem. These are people; people I love. That's why I reacted (delayed as it was) so badly to what the teacher had said. What we are doing is for the good of the community? Sure, but that isn't what I'm there for. I'm not helping these families because I'm worried that if I don't one more user and one more pusher will be added to my streets. No, I'm helping them because I'm terrified that that user or that pusher might have a name, and it might be the name of one of my boys. I don't give a rip about statistics, but I'll fight with my whole being to make sure that one of my kids doesn't become one.
Now I was the only Christian at the meeting, so maybe I took a unique perspective. (Don't get me wrong, these people are wonderful.) Or maybe I'm over reacting. But I firmly believe that I'm part of a kingdom (The Kingdom) that has a unique concern for individuals. There isn't concern for individuals over and against the community, but the two are held in a tension. Mine is a kingdom in which the shepherd leaves the 99 to find the 1, but mine is also a kingdom in which "the many parts make one body."
And the issue here, as I think about it, isn't even community vs. individual. In a community the members are still people. The problem here is the typical "fix it" American mentality, which usually has self at the center. See we can be awfully generous (at least in our own minds) when we are trying to fix problems. And that is what we see, problems, not people. We throw money at everything because we believe it fixes everything. But it doesn't fix people. And we throw our ingenuity, our activism, and our left-over time at problems, because these fix problems. But they don't fix people. People are messy and you just can't fix them.
We will only begin to understand what true generosity and true community are when we stop trying to fix problems, and just start treating people like people. When we learn to love people--messy, awkward, error-prone people, whom we find to be strangely like ourselves--then, and only then, will we make a difference--a difference that will be felt community-wide.
Quit fixing problems and start loving people. And Holy Spirit, make it true of me.
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