The Least of These

before i begin my seven weeks at mission of hope, i am staying two nights at new life childrens home in port au prince.  this is an orphanage that is an oasis in the middle of a broken city. when you enter the gates, you are met by green grass, playgrounds, and well fed children.  miriam fredericks, who began the home over thirty years ago, provides a haven for the orphans she rescues.  many come on the brink of starvation or severely handicapped.  one of the most recent additions to the new life family, louvens, was found at only fourteen pounds at the age of five.  he was almost mistaken for a dog.  he now is learning to walk and is smiling. a life transformed.  the name of this place is fitting... new life.  indeed these children have been given a new life, a new hope, the dignity that god intended for them.  somehow, although i rejoice and thank god for the miracles that take place here, i cannot help but think of the countless orphans that no one will rescue, both here in haiti and all over.  the words of the book of james echo in my head...

religion that god our father accepts as pure and faultless is this... to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.

my question then is, if so many orphans go uncared for, starving, reduced to something subhuman, unloved... where am i? Where is the church?  How can we better use the gifts and wealth we are blessed with in order to fulfill the calling to take care of those counted as the least of the world?

lord, you have shown me all this.  reveal to me how i can be a part of your plan to love the world and make all things new.

Outside the Circle

Years back, a friend told me how she prayed for the gift of joy.  I remember how surprised I was at the time- to think of joy as a gift to pray for.  But I pray for it now, and I will keep praying that it will increase all throughout my life. It is incredible to realize how much laughter is inside of me now- I feel like it spills out because there's nowhere to put it- like a popcorn machine without sides.  I can laugh at almost anything, especially myself and the mistakes I make.  And once I used to beat myself up for mistakes for days on end and spiral into a hole.  Now I laugh. And laugh.  And I love laughing.  I could probably talk all night about how much I love it.  I laugh at myself and my shortcomings and heartbreak and my friends and my enemies.  I laugh at animals and babies and couples who wear matching outfits.  I laugh at humanity and the church and the ways in which God has designed things.  I laugh at how we stubbornly and blindly refuse to see God or how we keep trying to stuff him into a box. And I even laugh at the tireless struggle we fight in this broken, broken world.

Sometimes I meet people who cannot laugh.  People who forgot how to laugh.  People whose laughter died somewhere between childhood and adulthood.  It is a tragic truth- the absence of laughter in a person's life.  Maybe it is because their life has been full of pain and heartache.  Maybe someone hushed them too much in school and in church and told them to be quiet and sit up straight.  I do not know, and I cannot judge, but I pray they learn how to laugh again.
Sometimes we hear the old cliche: Don't take life too seriously.

But then I think about how so many people live recklessly or look for ways to numb themselves.  There is nothing intentional about how they move from day to day and everything about how they live is so random.  We hear the phrase "It's my life," and many will use it as an excuse to do what they please.  They forget that our lives never just belong to us.  Our lives echo into the lives of many others- for better or for worse.  Perhaps even they fail to echo when they should.  The absence of good that a life could have brought into another life.  They forget that life is a gift of great magnitude.  They forget to take life seriously.

So most people live in the middle of two extremes.  Between taking life seriously and taking life lightly.

A friend recently made the declaration that he wanted to live life outside the circle.  I actually must admit I do not know what life outside the circle means to him, but it put into words a desire I carry with me.  Because that is exactly my desire- to live life outside the circle.  The circle to me is the middle.  The circle is where life is safe and predictable and pretty.  Sometimes my own desire scares me, but I desire to live outside that circle.

I've begun to see more and more what a contradiction I might appear to be, and I am going to take it a step further and say I want to live both extremes.  And no, that does not just mean I want to live in the middle.

I want to laugh at everything and take nothing too seriously and at the same time regard life as the greatest and most serious adventure and gift entrusted to me.  I never want to settle for the middle.  For the mediocre.  For the pretty-good.  I never want to live inside the circle.

Because I believe there is something better.

There is something better that God has for each one of us if we are brave enough to step out.  It won't be predictable (and that's tough for those of us who like romantic comedies).  It won't feel safe.  It will mean loving people beyond the walls we set up.  I have no idea what that will look like.  And I can almost guarantee it will make me laugh- laugh really hard.  I can only live one day at a time.  Maybe I will only have one more day, maybe thousands more.  Either way, I want God to be the author of those days because after all, our life is a gift to be part of his great and beautiful plan to make all things new, mend the broken, and love the lost.  I would rather be used by him on the edges of this life risking everything than live safe and sound in the circle- never risking. never aching. never laughing.

Take me deeper.  Show me more.  Fill me with more joy and more love that spills out like popcorn.