invisible children.

today, i was forced to ask myself, are ALL the good things ‘invisible’?
and is that, in fact, the reason why i can see my own reflection in the mirror?
CONVICTION.
are conviction and redemption simplified, perhaps, the mending needle and thread that
connect the hearts of all mankind: rich and poor, saved and unsaved, good and evil…?
Christ, the invisible seamster?

giving invisible a voice, the stitching of the quilt continues:
one of my best friends on earth who is currently deployed in Iraq, sent me this video. non-coincidence for him, he had watched this movie right before he would, unknowingly, begin working with some Ugandans in Iraq.

through tears, i can honestly say this film just put me in my place: displaced, and changed me.
if you haven’t already heard of Invisible Children, please check this out:

invisiblechildren.com

this is a message and calling that must, at the very least, be heard and shared..

abrázame.

Today, i woke up with a headache and a bad attitude. The drive to church was a melancholy one; the sky above matching my mood: gray, windy and overcast.

i was running late and worship had already started when i arrived.

Service was in the old theatre again. i immediately noticed the door to the right of the stage was only perched open, not far enough for me to watch the lazy tree. This almost disappointed me, but my spirits began to lift as i found myself at home and joined in song with my church family.

The wind must have blown open the perched door, for the next time my eyes passed over it, the lazy tree could be seen. Today, however, there was no birdsong. But there was a red truck parked in front of the door, and a man and a woman, probably mid-twenties in age, talking in front of it. Due to the distance and the ongoing worship music, their conversation was silent to me, but their faces revealed it was a serious matter.

i didn’t wonder so much what they were talking about, as much as the emotions i saw play over their faces. i wondered what they thought of the music leaking out through the chain link screen and if they knew that the open door…
…was open to them?

The silent movie of the two strangers continued. My eyes left the scene for some time, only to return and find this:

The lazy tree moving slightly; a light breeze stealing some of his leaves away. The woman slumped, her back against the red truck; she appeared tired, sad. The man was standing in front of her, embracing her. His arms held her tightly, encompassing and holding her up; her arms were limp at her sides and it seemed without the man holding her up and the truck behind her, she might not be standing at all.

Worship ended, and the teaching began. The next time i looked over to the door, all that remained was the lazy tree and the red truck. The ghost scene of the woman, limp and unresponsive, and the man holding her up, haunted my memory.

The inaudible language of her pain was translated and understood somewhere deep inside of my chest.

The way the man supported all of her weight and balance, was familiar to my own gravity and the very place i sat at that moment.

Looking around the theatre, i felt the embrace that couldn’t be seen:
the embrace that keeps us standing,
the embrace that holds us all together,
the embrace that doesn’t let go even when we so often do.

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save me.

“So, we’re all thinking someone is going to come and rescue us, eh..?” Miss Rowe pondered. It was more of an observation than a question, really.

It was the first day of school, and the assignment was to introduce yourself and then name three things you would take with you if stranded on a deserted island (excluding food, water, shelter, clothing, air) .

i chose: Bible, Leatherman multi-purpose tool, and magnifying glass.

Practical choices? Absolutely. Boring. Yep.

Some of the other student’s responses were: giant fish trap, the entire collection of Shakespeare, lawn chair, sunblock, water bottle, a bottle of water (just one?!), 12 bottles of Grey Goose vodka, first aid kit, flint, woman, best friend & husband, gun (he didn’t say bullets though…), flashlight, camcorder, guitar, soap (this is from the same guy who said gun and no bullets), giant missle launcher (i repeat: ?!), compass (in case you get lost on AN ISLAND!!), mirror, the world’s most comfortable sandals, a fishing pole, net, and some rope.

Practical choices? Nope. Exciting. YES!

Most people included in their responses, references of ‘until help arrives’, ‘ until they send a search party, ‘ until they find and save me’, until ‘i escape’- or included items that would aid escape and rescue, as opposed to sustaining life in a deserted place.

This made me think of my answer. Aside from my practical, boring items, the possibility or rescue or escape hadn’t even crossed my mind. In fact, somewhere in my hermit, 2-mode social skill, human mind- this sounded like a place i might ENJOY living. Or hiding?

No people. Near zero material possession. No television. No people. No stereotypes. No Hollywood. No people. No mirrors. No clocks. No obligations. NO PEOPLE.

This place might just save me from myself. Or enable me to just quit.

Not too long ago, on two separate occasions, two separate friends asked me where i would prefer to live: country or city? The first time i was asked the question, my answer slipped out before i had even fully processed the thought, “Third world country.” i immediately grew self conscious about my response, and tried to take it back or ad-lib some justification that didn’t exist. But the thing was, i meant it in the deepest parts of me, yet didn’t know why or where that answer really came from.

Yet, really, i knew: CONVICTION.

None of my reasons for wanting to live in a third world country were noble or humble. They were in fact, extremely and completely selfish. In my afflicted human reasoning, living in a place that is poverty-stricken and disease-ridden, sounded like a safe haven to me; to completely romanticize- like a sanctuary.

Webster’s definition of sanctuary: sanc·tu·ary 2 a (1) : a place of refuge and protection (2) : a refuge for wildlife where predators are controlled and hunting is illegal b : the immunity from law attached to a sanctuary

A place of refuge and protection- this is exactly what i desired. Protection from what? From myself- from having to deal with the temptations of flesh, material possession, technology, money, media, living, loving, caring, my own family and friend’s issues and heartache; a sanctuary from having to watch others that i care about deal with the same above issues, fall in those areas, or deny the God i so love.

With conviction, lots of tears and prayer, i had thought i had grown in this area. Until i was asked the question a second time; then more tears, prayers, and time passed, until i had fully convinced myself again, that i was better than my human self and everybody else.

That is, until my teacher’s question this day,
“Excluding food, water, shelter, clothing and air, if you were stranded on an island, what THREE items would you take with you?”
And then my teacher’s quiet comment to self,
“So, we’re all thinking someone is going to come and rescue us, eh..?”

Miss Rowe’s observation this day shone a spotlight into a dark part of my heart, booby-trapped with the dangerous idea, that i don’t require rescue…

Much like my conviction and the sheer condition of being human, it’s not something that goes away or changes with time-

We all require rescue. All of the time. And sanctuary, itself, can only be found in the Savior, Himself.

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