A number of images are flashing through my mind as I sit in a "common" coffee shop in Waco, TX this afternoon (my fellow Texans and coffee addicts can guess to which eclectic couch-filled cafe I refer).
If anyone has spoken with me or followed me on any sort of social media in the last month, they will not be surprised that one of the images in my mind is Fantine, played by Anne Hathaway, singing "I Dreamed A Dream" in Les Miserables. I will post some of the lyrics here for those that have missed out on this film or have forgotten the words of this song sung by a woman hopeless, abused, and ashamed of her new life as a prostitute.
//
There was a time when men were kind
When their voices were soft
And their words inviting
There was a time when love was blind
And the world was a song
And the song was exciting
There was a time
Then it all went wrong
I dreamed a dream in time gone by
When hope was high
And life worth living
I dreamed that love would never die
I dreamed that God would be forgiving
Then I was young and unafraid
And dreams were made and used and wasted
There was no ransom to be paid
No song unsung, no wine untasted
But the tigers come at night
With their voices soft as thunder
As they tear your hope apart
As they turn your dream to shame
//
The beauty of the theater is that we as the audience are not limited by words in our comprehension of the depth of the emotion expressed. Thus, this scene, showing emotion through both physical and vocal expression, has an incredible power.
What strikes me now, though, is that so many who sat in theaters moved to tears by this scene have never shed a tear for a modern-day prostitute, either enslaved or there by choice. Fantine is a voice in a musical, a piece of history, a woman uniquely arrived at a most unfortunate situation. The problem with this mindset is that our tears are left in movie theaters, and we turn our backs on women today who are daily driven to the sex industry for reasons often similar to Fantine's. We weep for Fantine, but we shrink at the thought of approaching women in our clean, "free" American cities who we see living in the shadows of a shameful industry. We do not question why they are there. We do not pause to listen for their stories, which they might softly cry as Fantine does when no one is near. They once had dreams as well.
Last night I had the privilege of praying for modern-day Fantine's and for the women who, in Jesus' name, actually enter into the dark places where these women live. I don't share this to say "Look at me. I am responding and engaging when others are not." I share this because the images that filled my mind through the night last night and into today are all uncomfortable and some of them truly horrific. They are not letting go of me. While I was sitting there imaging women trapped in this industry and praying for freedom for them, I kept thinking, "This is right. This is good." Why do we spend so much time as a church arguing over who's following the rules correctly and whispering shocking stories over coffee, promising to pray for so and so lost person? If they are truly lost, why are we not out there trying to find them? Why are we not beckoning them to safety? Why are we not Jean Valjean who repented of having previously overlooked Fantine's plight by swiftly taking her in his arms, rushing her to a hospital and promising to care for her child for the rest of his life? And why did he show compassion on Fantine? Because he had once been destitute himself. Desperate need and a love for his starving nephew had driven him to commit a crime and, as a result, he spent years of his life in prison. He knew what it felt like to be crushed by the world, to be fighting for mere survival, to lose all belief that a higher being was up above watching his plight and caring about his life. He and Fantine finally believe in God and His love for them because they experience love from another person. In their own words, "To love another person is to see the face of God."
The other image that came to my mind this afternoon was that of a building burning down. As believers in Jesus, we ought to see ourselves as those who have been rescued from a burning building. We were surrounded by the flames, suffocating from the smoke, near death....and someone chose to rescue us. Now, we stand outside, breathing clean air, standing next to our rescuer. And then our rescuer tells us that there are more people left inside. We hear their screams. Some have already fallen silent, but there is still hope for them to be revived. He is going back in to search them out and carry them from the building that will only stand so long before it collapses. We agree with him. "Yes, you must rescue them. Please rescue them. Once they are out here with us, we will gladly enjoy a meal together, a meal we thought we might never eat." And then he says that he wants our help. There is only so much time before the building collapses, and he needs all the extra hands he can get. We will have a fire suit, offering full protection. We will be with him, and he promises that there is no danger of us getting trapped again. We may suffer a little from the smoke fumes. Of course we will have to leave the bright sunlight and clean air for a brief time, but he promises to never leave our side. Will we go? How could we refuse to run back in?
Les Miserables ends with a chorus of those who have died and are now standing at the barricade, calling the people who are left to join in the crusade and to fight. As those who are left, our hope in joining the fight is that, no matter what transpires each day in our dealings with people, there will one day be an end to this sadness and injustice. The only way people will believe us when we tell them of this hope is if we show them the love we have been shown. We who are in the light call out to those who do not believe in the light. The flame must burn brightest, we must shower our love most freely, we must run without hesitation into the darkest rooms where Fantine's sit weeping over lost dreams and Jean Valjean's growl in chains at the injustice dealt to them.
To end with some perspective from Scripture:
"Whoever says 'I know him' but does not keep his commandments is a liar, and the truth is not in him, but whoever keeps his word, in him truly the love of God is perfected. By this we may know that we are in him: whoever says he abides in him ought to walk in the same way in which he walked."
- 1 John 2:4-6
You only have to read a little bit of any of the Gospels to see that Jesus walked with the sinner, the tax collector, the adulteress, and the terminally ill. And His greatest commandment is to love God and to love others. So if you are still uncertain as to whether you are really supposed to talk to a Fantine or run back into the burning building, just spend some time reading the words of Jesus and the way in which He walked. He was not afraid to keep these uncomfortable, horrific images in his mind because He knew the solution to every pain and sorrow. And we carry that solution, the treasure and blessing that is the Gospel, within us as His redeemed people. Let us not be afraid to walk as he walked.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Monday, January 7, 2013
Reflections on Joshua
Christmas break has just ended. The curtain has closed on days filled with movie marathons and long morning talks with family over multiple cups of coffee. I sit here at 5pm in my pajama pants, clinging to these last moments of relaxation and carelessness. I feel anything but careless, though, as I look ahead to the coming months. My soul yearns to be in step with the Lord. My theme verse this past month has been "Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go." (Joshua 1:9)
I entered Christmas break in a flurry of rushed goodbyes and a head full of cold medicine, attempting to process a semester filled to the brim with people, parties, work, and all the things that fill the crevices of our lives. I arrived in Colorado, the land of mountains and cold, cautiously breathing out my fears and dreams to the Creator of the beauty around me. And His response was clear as day, "Be strong. Be courageous. But you can only do so if you are confident that I am with you wherever you go." I had been sitting in the book of Joshua for a while. Sometimes a piece of Scripture just fits in my life in a way so that I cannot let it go until God propels me forward to a new promise or lesson in His Word.
It was right after my grandfather's passing over Thanksgiving that I began reading Joshua. I was kind of shocked by the first verse - "After the death of Moses the servant of the Lord, the Lord said to Joshua the son of Nun, Moses' assistant, 'Moses my servant is dead. Now therefore arise, go over this Jordan, you and all this people, into the land that I am giving to them, to the people of Israel."
Having recently experienced a death and feeling the weight of a grief that pins you to the ground, I can imagine how Joshua might have responded to God in his grief over the death of Moses. You see everyone around you moving about, but you feel a loyalty to the one you have lost that life must not go on without them. You must pause there in the place of grief and remembrance for longer than people will let you. And yet, God, the comforter, the compassionate one commands Joshua very matter-of-factly, "Moses is dead. Now therefore arise." He is telling Joshua to move. If Joshua felt anything of what I was feeling after my grandfather's death, I know that the last thing he wanted to do was move, and particularly move into the frightening, unknown territory of conquering a foreign land. While in my heart I grumbled against God for His seeming insensitivity to my sorrow, I knew he was being, not insensitive, but more in tune to my spiritual needs in this time.
A few days later, I read further in Joshua, where God tells him, "Today I will begin to exalt you in the sight of all Israel that they may know that, as I was with Moses, so I will be with you." (Joshua 3:7) And then, after he successfully leads the people across the Jordan, trusting God's promise that he would make a way by parting the waters, Scripture says that, "On that day the Lord exalted Joshua in the sight of all Israel, and they stood in awe of him just as they had stood in awe of Moses, all the days of his life." (Joshua 4:14). These verses drew my attention away from the losing of someone through death to the losing of someone's leadership. I have already experienced a season in which a close mentor and leader left me, and I was expected to take over leadership in an area in which I did not feel competent. God was faithful to raise me up in the eyes of those I was leading, not by my own strength or charisma (of which I have very little), but by the expressions of His power in my life. What struck me in these verses is the beautiful combination of commands, promises, and the fulfillment of promises. God was asking a lot of Joshua, but He was promising His presence through the seemingly impossible journey ahead of him. God had stripped away a friend, leader, and rock in Joshua's life and had called him to fill this immense gap with his own small, grieving self. But, to show the people that Joshua was the proper leader, God worked miraculously through Joshua. All He asked of him was that he believe in God's ability to prepare the way and then step forward in that faith.
Oh that I would be so faithful even in the midst of grief and even when I do not see myself as a leader or whoever it is that God has called me to be. I think that grief and a new step forward often go hand in hand. Whenever we move forward into a new challenge or phase of life, we are usually leaving behind something that was dear to us. Even if nothing we leave behind is dear to us, we may grieve the comfort of the familiar, the predictable, and the easy, for rarely is a new home/step in life/role at once easy to adjust to. Praise the Lord that He prepares us, sanctifies us, and heals us for the "Arise, go" moments.
After the people cross the Jordan and they are all circumcised, Scripture says, "They remained in their places in the camp until they were healed. And the Lord said to Joshua, 'Today I have rolled away the reproach of Egypt from you.'" (Joshua 5:8-9) I'm not an Old Testament scholar so I may be interpreting this passage incorrectly, but I see God making use of times of stillness to refine and heal His people. I look back on times when I have been kept in one place (spiritually, emotionally, physically,...) for longer than I wanted to be, and I see God rolling away the reproach of my former slavery to sin and circumcising my heart (Col. 2:11-12). Sometimes we want to shrink back in fear of moving forward while other times we want to rush through a period of slowness and healing because it hurts.
I have referred to this verse in a past blog, and I will mention it again here - "Let us know; let us press on to know the Lord." (Hosea 6:3) This is the goal and the hope whether we remain in the desert or are called forth to a new land - to know the Lord. He promises His presence, and in that presence are thousands of other promises pertaining to His character. If we are afraid, then we forget who He is, that He is love and that "Perfect love casts out fear." (1 John 4:18)
I entered Christmas break in a flurry of rushed goodbyes and a head full of cold medicine, attempting to process a semester filled to the brim with people, parties, work, and all the things that fill the crevices of our lives. I arrived in Colorado, the land of mountains and cold, cautiously breathing out my fears and dreams to the Creator of the beauty around me. And His response was clear as day, "Be strong. Be courageous. But you can only do so if you are confident that I am with you wherever you go." I had been sitting in the book of Joshua for a while. Sometimes a piece of Scripture just fits in my life in a way so that I cannot let it go until God propels me forward to a new promise or lesson in His Word.
It was right after my grandfather's passing over Thanksgiving that I began reading Joshua. I was kind of shocked by the first verse - "After the death of Moses the servant of the Lord, the Lord said to Joshua the son of Nun, Moses' assistant, 'Moses my servant is dead. Now therefore arise, go over this Jordan, you and all this people, into the land that I am giving to them, to the people of Israel."
Having recently experienced a death and feeling the weight of a grief that pins you to the ground, I can imagine how Joshua might have responded to God in his grief over the death of Moses. You see everyone around you moving about, but you feel a loyalty to the one you have lost that life must not go on without them. You must pause there in the place of grief and remembrance for longer than people will let you. And yet, God, the comforter, the compassionate one commands Joshua very matter-of-factly, "Moses is dead. Now therefore arise." He is telling Joshua to move. If Joshua felt anything of what I was feeling after my grandfather's death, I know that the last thing he wanted to do was move, and particularly move into the frightening, unknown territory of conquering a foreign land. While in my heart I grumbled against God for His seeming insensitivity to my sorrow, I knew he was being, not insensitive, but more in tune to my spiritual needs in this time.
A few days later, I read further in Joshua, where God tells him, "Today I will begin to exalt you in the sight of all Israel that they may know that, as I was with Moses, so I will be with you." (Joshua 3:7) And then, after he successfully leads the people across the Jordan, trusting God's promise that he would make a way by parting the waters, Scripture says that, "On that day the Lord exalted Joshua in the sight of all Israel, and they stood in awe of him just as they had stood in awe of Moses, all the days of his life." (Joshua 4:14). These verses drew my attention away from the losing of someone through death to the losing of someone's leadership. I have already experienced a season in which a close mentor and leader left me, and I was expected to take over leadership in an area in which I did not feel competent. God was faithful to raise me up in the eyes of those I was leading, not by my own strength or charisma (of which I have very little), but by the expressions of His power in my life. What struck me in these verses is the beautiful combination of commands, promises, and the fulfillment of promises. God was asking a lot of Joshua, but He was promising His presence through the seemingly impossible journey ahead of him. God had stripped away a friend, leader, and rock in Joshua's life and had called him to fill this immense gap with his own small, grieving self. But, to show the people that Joshua was the proper leader, God worked miraculously through Joshua. All He asked of him was that he believe in God's ability to prepare the way and then step forward in that faith.
Oh that I would be so faithful even in the midst of grief and even when I do not see myself as a leader or whoever it is that God has called me to be. I think that grief and a new step forward often go hand in hand. Whenever we move forward into a new challenge or phase of life, we are usually leaving behind something that was dear to us. Even if nothing we leave behind is dear to us, we may grieve the comfort of the familiar, the predictable, and the easy, for rarely is a new home/step in life/role at once easy to adjust to. Praise the Lord that He prepares us, sanctifies us, and heals us for the "Arise, go" moments.
After the people cross the Jordan and they are all circumcised, Scripture says, "They remained in their places in the camp until they were healed. And the Lord said to Joshua, 'Today I have rolled away the reproach of Egypt from you.'" (Joshua 5:8-9) I'm not an Old Testament scholar so I may be interpreting this passage incorrectly, but I see God making use of times of stillness to refine and heal His people. I look back on times when I have been kept in one place (spiritually, emotionally, physically,...) for longer than I wanted to be, and I see God rolling away the reproach of my former slavery to sin and circumcising my heart (Col. 2:11-12). Sometimes we want to shrink back in fear of moving forward while other times we want to rush through a period of slowness and healing because it hurts.
I have referred to this verse in a past blog, and I will mention it again here - "Let us know; let us press on to know the Lord." (Hosea 6:3) This is the goal and the hope whether we remain in the desert or are called forth to a new land - to know the Lord. He promises His presence, and in that presence are thousands of other promises pertaining to His character. If we are afraid, then we forget who He is, that He is love and that "Perfect love casts out fear." (1 John 4:18)
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