today is one of my favorite days of the year. the day that i first listen to handels messiah. one of my few hard and fast 'rules' is that the music, the movies, the decorations of christmas, all of it- happens only between the day after thanksgiving and the new year. 6 weeks. Christmas is special, it's sacred and it deserves our waiting and then our full enjoyment. it deserves to be unique and packaged back up and put away- it deserves anticipation and eagerness. it deserves to be missed in january. at least that is what i think.
today i have to admit, i was in bad form. i woke up exhausted and in no mood to encourage and motivate three children and myself to dress and eat and pack up for the day. i was in no mood to corral. i was in the mood to sit in my house all alone and drink a good hot cup of coffee and listen to the messiah in full with out interruption. but. no.
when we got in the car, i was already to enforce silence and listen. but. the tape attaching the iphone to the car stereo kept being spit out of the tape deck. finally i was able to get it to work and we began our drive- but the iphone was stuck on repeat- so i kept having to skip to the next song manual- which doesn't work well while driving. then i remembered that jude needed to go over his spelling words on the way to school- so the messiah experience would have to wait. ugghhh.
after dropping the boys i was able to fix the iphone repeat problem and zoe and i drove through kampala to the orphanage with that beautiful music. and while listening and driving- or stopping and starting which is what we were really doing, i had a moment.
out my window was a very thin ugandan man pushing two giant bags of charcoal on an old bike in the drizzle. he looked sort of sick, his clothes were old, his flip flops were at least 2 sizes too small and he was working so hard to push this bike and maintain his cargo that kept slipping off the seat.
the chorus sang:
And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed.
i was driving in a large SUV with only one other passenger- my load was light- i was protected from the wind and the rain. i am thankfully healthy. my shoes fit me.
And ALL flesh shall sing TOGETHER.
mine and his, dark and pale, black and white, rich and poor, heavy load or light load, barefoot or rainbooted. when God looks at us- we are loved the same.
For the mouth of the Lord has spoken it.
the moment was in remembering our unity, our sameness. that one day we'll stand together holding hands. that one day we will sing together. he and i.
yesterday a man came to my door- well not my door, my porch- the place where people hover. no one knocks- they just hover or linger and wait until they're noticed. this drives me crazy. i never know how long they've been hanging out there or what they want- it's so passive. so i went out to see. he actually wasn't even on the porch, just on the path right off the porch. he had tears in his eyes.
i had another moment.
i had rushed out my door, ready to defer him- to deny him- to send him on his way. i was annoyed at him and i hadn't even met him. he was one of so many who linger, who want for something, who ask with out even asking, who need. but when i saw the tears in his eyes- the moment spoke to me- yes he's one of many, but he's ONE. he is a person. an individual. a life. a someone who is loved. someone who is worthy. so i asked him to come and sit on the porch with me and tell me what was happening in his life. he tried to take off his shoes- just to walk on the porch. this told me something. in uganda everyone takes off their shoes when going into the house- they leave them on the porch- but he felt he couldn't even wear his shoes on the porch. he felt unworthy.
he told me about himself and his family. they all have AIDS, he also has TB, he's been too sick to work, the are on ARVs but haven't been able to take them reliably because they haven't had food to eat. this week they were chased off their rental property for not paying the landlord in 6 months. he was hoping for some money. he's trying to get back to the village where they can live with extended family. he'd been to the church in town, they'd given him 5000 shillings (less than 2$). he kept crying- unable to look me in the eye. he said that no one wants people with HIV living in their homes- he spoke of rejection and humiliation. he was full of hopelessness and brokenness.
And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed.
this is why Jesus came. for the brokenness. his. mine. the guy on the bike. all of it.
this is what Christmas is about.
And ALL flesh shall sing TOGETHER.
i told him i thought his plan was wise to return to his family and have food and shelter. i asked about his HIV care and he can get access in the village. i told him i could give him some money but was worried about his spirit. he was so depressed- so hopeless. i told him he was loved and worthy- just as worthy as me, just as worthy as someone with out HIV. i gave him enough for them to get back to the village and i prayed with him for healing and for hope. and i thanked God for speaking to my heart that day- for reminding me of our oneness. for reminding me that Jesus cared for individuals- the woman at the well, zaccheus, the disciples as separate people.
for showing me that one person at a time is how 'it's possible'.
For the mouth of the Lord has spoken it.
music speaks and moves us. and with handel's messiah, it's not just me. watch this 'random act of culture' sort of collective performance art from last Christmas in a mall in philidelphia.
it makes me cry. happy cry.
today i have to admit, i was in bad form. i woke up exhausted and in no mood to encourage and motivate three children and myself to dress and eat and pack up for the day. i was in no mood to corral. i was in the mood to sit in my house all alone and drink a good hot cup of coffee and listen to the messiah in full with out interruption. but. no.
when we got in the car, i was already to enforce silence and listen. but. the tape attaching the iphone to the car stereo kept being spit out of the tape deck. finally i was able to get it to work and we began our drive- but the iphone was stuck on repeat- so i kept having to skip to the next song manual- which doesn't work well while driving. then i remembered that jude needed to go over his spelling words on the way to school- so the messiah experience would have to wait. ugghhh.
after dropping the boys i was able to fix the iphone repeat problem and zoe and i drove through kampala to the orphanage with that beautiful music. and while listening and driving- or stopping and starting which is what we were really doing, i had a moment.
out my window was a very thin ugandan man pushing two giant bags of charcoal on an old bike in the drizzle. he looked sort of sick, his clothes were old, his flip flops were at least 2 sizes too small and he was working so hard to push this bike and maintain his cargo that kept slipping off the seat.
the chorus sang:
And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed.
i was driving in a large SUV with only one other passenger- my load was light- i was protected from the wind and the rain. i am thankfully healthy. my shoes fit me.
And ALL flesh shall sing TOGETHER.
mine and his, dark and pale, black and white, rich and poor, heavy load or light load, barefoot or rainbooted. when God looks at us- we are loved the same.
For the mouth of the Lord has spoken it.
the moment was in remembering our unity, our sameness. that one day we'll stand together holding hands. that one day we will sing together. he and i.
yesterday a man came to my door- well not my door, my porch- the place where people hover. no one knocks- they just hover or linger and wait until they're noticed. this drives me crazy. i never know how long they've been hanging out there or what they want- it's so passive. so i went out to see. he actually wasn't even on the porch, just on the path right off the porch. he had tears in his eyes.
i had another moment.
i had rushed out my door, ready to defer him- to deny him- to send him on his way. i was annoyed at him and i hadn't even met him. he was one of so many who linger, who want for something, who ask with out even asking, who need. but when i saw the tears in his eyes- the moment spoke to me- yes he's one of many, but he's ONE. he is a person. an individual. a life. a someone who is loved. someone who is worthy. so i asked him to come and sit on the porch with me and tell me what was happening in his life. he tried to take off his shoes- just to walk on the porch. this told me something. in uganda everyone takes off their shoes when going into the house- they leave them on the porch- but he felt he couldn't even wear his shoes on the porch. he felt unworthy.
he told me about himself and his family. they all have AIDS, he also has TB, he's been too sick to work, the are on ARVs but haven't been able to take them reliably because they haven't had food to eat. this week they were chased off their rental property for not paying the landlord in 6 months. he was hoping for some money. he's trying to get back to the village where they can live with extended family. he'd been to the church in town, they'd given him 5000 shillings (less than 2$). he kept crying- unable to look me in the eye. he said that no one wants people with HIV living in their homes- he spoke of rejection and humiliation. he was full of hopelessness and brokenness.
And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed.
this is why Jesus came. for the brokenness. his. mine. the guy on the bike. all of it.
this is what Christmas is about.
And ALL flesh shall sing TOGETHER.
i told him i thought his plan was wise to return to his family and have food and shelter. i asked about his HIV care and he can get access in the village. i told him i could give him some money but was worried about his spirit. he was so depressed- so hopeless. i told him he was loved and worthy- just as worthy as me, just as worthy as someone with out HIV. i gave him enough for them to get back to the village and i prayed with him for healing and for hope. and i thanked God for speaking to my heart that day- for reminding me of our oneness. for reminding me that Jesus cared for individuals- the woman at the well, zaccheus, the disciples as separate people.
for showing me that one person at a time is how 'it's possible'.
For the mouth of the Lord has spoken it.
music speaks and moves us. and with handel's messiah, it's not just me. watch this 'random act of culture' sort of collective performance art from last Christmas in a mall in philidelphia.
it makes me cry. happy cry.
4 comments:
This is a beautiful post, and I agree that it's important to recognize our connectedness with others, no matter how different their situations may be from our own.
May I ask, respectfully, how you reconcile your faith with your observations of the unfairness in the world? As an atheist, when I see people who are much less fortunate than me, or when I'm witness to human suffering, I find it impossible to reconcile what I see with the concept of a higher power. I'm always curious about how people manage to believe in God in the face of such extremes of human suffering.
of course you can ask- it's a great question! one i think most people wrestle with- even those with faith. How can there be a God in the face of suffering- or how can there be a loving God- why would God allow suffering. for me, I can't discount God's existence because i don't like the way things turn out- i mean when i look at an orchid or the fact that there are colorful things so far deep below the sea- i feel a God who is creative and passionate and i can't science it away. the question of suffering and God being loving is harder - but the story isn't over- we are living one small chapter of the world- a few pages- what i can say is that despite all our suffering-(and i believe it unites us) God doesn't abandon us- there is redemption- and these things can lead us to search for God- when we might not if everything was perfect. i believe in a God, who cares about the absolute minutia of my life- and everyone's lives- a God who is more sad over the suffering than i am- and that's the whole point of Jesus. he entered into it- experienced it- was the answer to the old testament's need for reconciliation with God- what's even more amazing is to talk to people living in the thick of it who have the strongest faith- who can attest to the love of their God. When i was dealing with my son (see post Happy Birthday Jude 2010) that was the first time i had to really choose- am i going to reject God because of these circumstances or am i going to turn to Him? His presence was so real and palpable and i felt loved despite my suffering- even peace in the darkness- it changed me- changed my relationship with God- with Jesus- i saw a God who cries with us- and promises us wholeness and joy- even when the situation is humanly grave. does this make any sense? anyway- thanks for reading!!
Thank you for this answer. I'm struggling a bit to know how to reply to your answer, because although your answer makes sense to me, it describes an experience that is so different from mine. I like to think that I've been open to experiencing God in my life and that I've tried not to form opinions too hastily, yet I've never felt the presence of God. For me, I find it much easier to understand the world through the lens or science than through the lens of faith, but I recognize that this is my own personal view of the world and not necessarily the truth.
I hope this makes sense and that you don't take any offense, as I don't intend it to be offensive in any way. I just find it very interesting to try to understand others' perspective on the world. Thanks.
i would never take offense! it's always good to talk about these things- thanks for commenting!!
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