April 27, 2010
I love waking up to the sounds of Agouza and the man pushing his bread cart through the street yelling at the top of his lungs. I love walking out of my flat, saying good morning to the guards and being greeted with kisses and a warm embrace from the beautiful woman on the corner who sells me bread. I love buying fresh melons off of the donkey carts draped with grass and passing men praying in the street next to ahwas full of men smoking shisha and playing dominos or backgammon. I love wandering into my favorite bakery where the owner knows exactly what I am looking for- date bars. I love that they are like 2 cents! I love waiting until evening and going to the nut man who proposes to us girls everytime we go. I love that I am not even fazed by the fact that half the time there are maggots or sand mixed with the nuts (especially the ones he gives us to try and we have to eat and react positively in his presence). I love that I can get a taxi, and always count on a good laugh simply because I try to speak in Arabic and always say things wrong. I love the simply life I have been given to live here in Egypt. I want nothing more than to take this simplicity with me back to America and to spend my days being intentional about hospitality (especially to strangers), choosing people over performance, and seeking God seriously for authority and spiritual strength to exchange the natural instinct of exclusion for a God honoring attitude of embrace.
Maasalaama Misr. I will miss you...but I will be back.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Friday, April 16, 2010
4-10-10
THINK.
"If everyone demanded peace instead of another television set, then there'd be peace" -John Lennon
Truth??
I have never seen division. Physical division because of nationality. It is a horrific thing.
Exclusion. A horrific thing indeed.
Embrace. A need we can live to fill.
My thoughts to God after a day spent with Palestinian students, who quickly became dear friends, on the other side of the wall (also known as the West Bank, also known as Palestine, also known as Bethlehem, also known as occupied territory)
God, I hurt. I hurt so deeply, I can't breathe. I can't smile. I can't catch my balance. You love me. I know. But you love them too. How can people be so cruel to one another and then try to justify it? How can we continue to kill each other, exploit them for our benefit, tear families apart, and demonize people into enemies that must be destroyed? How can you stand to see this among your children? I almost cannot bear it. I havent felt like this since Brooklyn. I havent felt this deep of a pain for your heart since i cried out to you on my knees in the prayer room of the Bushwick building with the children in the ghetto. When i was in Bethlehem I felt the people and I felt the problems. I saw their faces. Their pain and their smiles. Politically i can argue both sides of the debate with numbers, facts, and reason but as a human i often succumb to the beats of my heart and the taste of my tears. I refuse to take political stands or join a fight that is not mine out of motivations to justify the divide between what i see and what i know, but i still hurt.
Some days I smile. Some days i cry. Some days i dream for what could be and should simply because we are all people. The complexities make it easy to forget that, but my heart hurts for the people. Some days that is all i know for certain. Today is one of those days.
THINK.
"If everyone demanded peace instead of another television set, then there'd be peace" -John Lennon
Truth??
I have never seen division. Physical division because of nationality. It is a horrific thing.
Exclusion. A horrific thing indeed.
Embrace. A need we can live to fill.
My thoughts to God after a day spent with Palestinian students, who quickly became dear friends, on the other side of the wall (also known as the West Bank, also known as Palestine, also known as Bethlehem, also known as occupied territory)
God, I hurt. I hurt so deeply, I can't breathe. I can't smile. I can't catch my balance. You love me. I know. But you love them too. How can people be so cruel to one another and then try to justify it? How can we continue to kill each other, exploit them for our benefit, tear families apart, and demonize people into enemies that must be destroyed? How can you stand to see this among your children? I almost cannot bear it. I havent felt like this since Brooklyn. I havent felt this deep of a pain for your heart since i cried out to you on my knees in the prayer room of the Bushwick building with the children in the ghetto. When i was in Bethlehem I felt the people and I felt the problems. I saw their faces. Their pain and their smiles. Politically i can argue both sides of the debate with numbers, facts, and reason but as a human i often succumb to the beats of my heart and the taste of my tears. I refuse to take political stands or join a fight that is not mine out of motivations to justify the divide between what i see and what i know, but i still hurt.
Some days I smile. Some days i cry. Some days i dream for what could be and should simply because we are all people. The complexities make it easy to forget that, but my heart hurts for the people. Some days that is all i know for certain. Today is one of those days.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
ISRAEL
Everything is real!
The Bible is coming alive with every breath I take in Jerusalem. It’s real. It’s all real and I am here to live among it during Holy Week. I am walking where Jesus walked. I am touching what He touched. Tomorrow is Good Friday and I am in the land where my Savior was crucified.
I wonder how I got here. Sitting through the suns good morning in a garden of life’s vibrancies in Jerusalem. On Good Friday.
I wonder how I got here. Walking through the hills of history following the footsteps of a Savior bruised and broken on the path to my redemption.
I wonder how I got here. I wonder why God picked me, or perhaps I picked him? To guide me through His gates all the way to His arms of grace.
I wonder how I got here today, but often I wonder why I am still here.
The Reality of Real
The reality of real never ceases to appease the doctor and diseased, children and deceased, famine and the feast. A land of real, a land to feel, a land all wish to hold and steal. Its taste will leave you longing, its teeth will leave you bleeding for the day of return or a sun that never burns. Ashes without urns, desire without the yearn, truth without the learn.
On Good Friday, I don’t know what to feel. The church of the Holy Sepulcher was a display of beautiful religion but I couldn’t help but feel disconnected, out of place and even barricaded from the spiritual experience I anticipated. The gold, jewels, glass, and stone is beyond impressive to human eyes but it did nothing to my heart and soul but stir my hands to take action with my camera. I can’t help but feel contradiction in what Jesus stood for and represented and the building that not stands to honor and worship Him at His tomb. The people of utter devotion and sincere obedience pressed up against me from all sides were the ones I left moved by-not the service. Watching people poor out perfume and oil, kiss stones, lay down jewelry and money, through tears of awe and wails of surrender are visuals I will never forget.
JORDAN
Food poisoning has almost been the death of me the last two days, so besides a revitalizing day at a resort along the Dead Sea outside of Amman, I have nothing to say except do not drink fresh strawberry juice from the sun baked barrel of strawberries on the streets of Syria :( EVER.
RECENT TANGENTS I find myself discussing:
I don’t want to try to fix people, I want to live a life that empowers people to fix themselves.
You can be an evangelist for many things, what do you evangelize? Are you aware of it? How often are you motives central to your own personal desires and dreams rather than the well being of others?
I cannot expect others to live and think the same way that I do simply because they have not had the same experiences as I have had. As basic as the concept may sound it is one I often dismiss into judgment, frustration, and even arrogance.
How much of your life is about you? A humbling question I instantly felt myself squirm over because I know the answer is not what it should be.
We live everyday with baggage of injustice, but we also live everyday with opportunities to be involved.
As Americans it is easy to skim over Christ’s command to love you enemies because more often than not we claim to not have any real enemies. In my experiences I can say that just as holders of a United States passport, you have enemies. You have enemies all over the world. Some stem from western power and affluence, some towards the privilege of knowing English as a first language, some solely because of our invasion of Iraq and Afghanistan, and some out of pure ignorance to the diverse public opinion in North America. Another way to look at the enemy notion is through the understanding that your enemies are who you are most mad at. That surely doesn’t let anyone off the hook as we would like.
SYRIA
We crossed the border at midnight and drove through rain and darkness to Hama where we slept for a few hours before continuing our drive to Damascus. Hama was the ground for a serious massacre led by the government in 00000000 On the way we stopped at the world’s oldest crusader castle still intact, Saint Takla’s monastery, and then an Aramaic speaking village (one of the languages that Jesus spoke). There are only 3 Aramaic speaking villages left in the world, and we visited the only one where Christians are largely represented among the Muslims, the other two are predominately Muslim inhabitants. The bishop who spoke to us there radically changed my life. He first explained the iconography in the monastery and the intricate meaning behind each picture. Then he spoke about the saints, specifically Mary, and how they are used as spiritual guides, because after all if Mary really is Jesus’ mother she must be of significant wisdom. This is not to say that she should be worshipped as an equal to God but I think the bishop put it beautifully when he said that she can do for us exactly what she is doing in all of the iconographies- pointing to Jesus. We all gathered in the church which is in a cave on the mountain overlooking the village and he recited the Lord’s Prayer in Aramaic. The prayer was the most beautiful spoken sound I have ever heard and imagine ever will. Words cannot suffice for explaining how touched and emotional I felt from the inner depths of my soul all the way to the outer flesh of my being from the simple prayer I have heard a hundred times.
The Old City of Damascus has a kind of charm that will stamp itself on your heart. Arguably in the run for my favorite city in the world.
TURKEY
Istanbul is a gorgeous city that serves as a bridge between the East and the West in culture, consumerism, and character. It is a fascinating picture of transformation, western influence, economic growth and also significant controversy. I am amazed at the remains of the Ottoman Empire and its roots that have yet to be dug up in dialogue. I am overwhelmed with the history of Ataturk, a single man who successfully stripped his country of eastern culture to introduce western behavior for economic increase. After meeting with journalists, political leaders, human rights activists, religious leaders, and interacting with shopkeepers and students I found my mind blown into a million questions and possibilities for Turkey’s future. Ferry trips along the Bosporus watching palaces and castles pass by, Turkish karaoke; used book stores and decadent food and fashion were daily perks. It was only natural to fall deeply in love with Istanbul, promising to return despite (and maybe in spite of) the complexity of its politics.
Everything is real!
The Bible is coming alive with every breath I take in Jerusalem. It’s real. It’s all real and I am here to live among it during Holy Week. I am walking where Jesus walked. I am touching what He touched. Tomorrow is Good Friday and I am in the land where my Savior was crucified.
I wonder how I got here. Sitting through the suns good morning in a garden of life’s vibrancies in Jerusalem. On Good Friday.
I wonder how I got here. Walking through the hills of history following the footsteps of a Savior bruised and broken on the path to my redemption.
I wonder how I got here. I wonder why God picked me, or perhaps I picked him? To guide me through His gates all the way to His arms of grace.
I wonder how I got here today, but often I wonder why I am still here.
The Reality of Real
The reality of real never ceases to appease the doctor and diseased, children and deceased, famine and the feast. A land of real, a land to feel, a land all wish to hold and steal. Its taste will leave you longing, its teeth will leave you bleeding for the day of return or a sun that never burns. Ashes without urns, desire without the yearn, truth without the learn.
On Good Friday, I don’t know what to feel. The church of the Holy Sepulcher was a display of beautiful religion but I couldn’t help but feel disconnected, out of place and even barricaded from the spiritual experience I anticipated. The gold, jewels, glass, and stone is beyond impressive to human eyes but it did nothing to my heart and soul but stir my hands to take action with my camera. I can’t help but feel contradiction in what Jesus stood for and represented and the building that not stands to honor and worship Him at His tomb. The people of utter devotion and sincere obedience pressed up against me from all sides were the ones I left moved by-not the service. Watching people poor out perfume and oil, kiss stones, lay down jewelry and money, through tears of awe and wails of surrender are visuals I will never forget.
JORDAN
Food poisoning has almost been the death of me the last two days, so besides a revitalizing day at a resort along the Dead Sea outside of Amman, I have nothing to say except do not drink fresh strawberry juice from the sun baked barrel of strawberries on the streets of Syria :( EVER.
RECENT TANGENTS I find myself discussing:
I don’t want to try to fix people, I want to live a life that empowers people to fix themselves.
You can be an evangelist for many things, what do you evangelize? Are you aware of it? How often are you motives central to your own personal desires and dreams rather than the well being of others?
I cannot expect others to live and think the same way that I do simply because they have not had the same experiences as I have had. As basic as the concept may sound it is one I often dismiss into judgment, frustration, and even arrogance.
How much of your life is about you? A humbling question I instantly felt myself squirm over because I know the answer is not what it should be.
We live everyday with baggage of injustice, but we also live everyday with opportunities to be involved.
As Americans it is easy to skim over Christ’s command to love you enemies because more often than not we claim to not have any real enemies. In my experiences I can say that just as holders of a United States passport, you have enemies. You have enemies all over the world. Some stem from western power and affluence, some towards the privilege of knowing English as a first language, some solely because of our invasion of Iraq and Afghanistan, and some out of pure ignorance to the diverse public opinion in North America. Another way to look at the enemy notion is through the understanding that your enemies are who you are most mad at. That surely doesn’t let anyone off the hook as we would like.
SYRIA
We crossed the border at midnight and drove through rain and darkness to Hama where we slept for a few hours before continuing our drive to Damascus. Hama was the ground for a serious massacre led by the government in 00000000 On the way we stopped at the world’s oldest crusader castle still intact, Saint Takla’s monastery, and then an Aramaic speaking village (one of the languages that Jesus spoke). There are only 3 Aramaic speaking villages left in the world, and we visited the only one where Christians are largely represented among the Muslims, the other two are predominately Muslim inhabitants. The bishop who spoke to us there radically changed my life. He first explained the iconography in the monastery and the intricate meaning behind each picture. Then he spoke about the saints, specifically Mary, and how they are used as spiritual guides, because after all if Mary really is Jesus’ mother she must be of significant wisdom. This is not to say that she should be worshipped as an equal to God but I think the bishop put it beautifully when he said that she can do for us exactly what she is doing in all of the iconographies- pointing to Jesus. We all gathered in the church which is in a cave on the mountain overlooking the village and he recited the Lord’s Prayer in Aramaic. The prayer was the most beautiful spoken sound I have ever heard and imagine ever will. Words cannot suffice for explaining how touched and emotional I felt from the inner depths of my soul all the way to the outer flesh of my being from the simple prayer I have heard a hundred times.
The Old City of Damascus has a kind of charm that will stamp itself on your heart. Arguably in the run for my favorite city in the world.
TURKEY
Istanbul is a gorgeous city that serves as a bridge between the East and the West in culture, consumerism, and character. It is a fascinating picture of transformation, western influence, economic growth and also significant controversy. I am amazed at the remains of the Ottoman Empire and its roots that have yet to be dug up in dialogue. I am overwhelmed with the history of Ataturk, a single man who successfully stripped his country of eastern culture to introduce western behavior for economic increase. After meeting with journalists, political leaders, human rights activists, religious leaders, and interacting with shopkeepers and students I found my mind blown into a million questions and possibilities for Turkey’s future. Ferry trips along the Bosporus watching palaces and castles pass by, Turkish karaoke; used book stores and decadent food and fashion were daily perks. It was only natural to fall deeply in love with Istanbul, promising to return despite (and maybe in spite of) the complexity of its politics.
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