Blessed are the Poor...part 2

Joel Thomas, owner of "Analysis Analyzed" posted a comment to my copy of Alana's post, and when I began replying to it, it appeared obvious to me that I needed to just make a post out of the reply. So here it is... Joel says, "Definitely a great post by Alana. Was it the fact that it reminded you of Indy that struck home with you?" And my reply... Yeah, that's mainly it, although it hit something much deeper in me as well. Our year away has been a blessing in so many ways, even in that sometimes "absence makes the heart grow fonder." Despite its obvious problems and blemishes, West Indy is also an outpost of people who are a part of that remnant of Ancient Christianity and a shining beacon of light in a dark place. This, more than anything else, is what Alana's post reminded me of; that often times it is easy for me to forget that I/we as Christians and Believers in the Most High God are called to be a Light in dark places. Shoot, my own name means precisely that, (although sometimes I'd rather it not.) Rich Mullins always said that "Christianity is not about building a perfect little niche in the world, with your perfect little house, and your perfect little kids, where there are no poor people, gays, or minorities anywhere around you." Unfortunately, the Lie that "it" matters permeates even the heart of the Church and it is so easy to get caught up in the "stuff" of this world...buying it, having it, possesing all that we can. And for what? To prove to ourselves or to others that we are just as good? Just as wealthy? Just as successful? Just as influential and powerful? As if it matters to the God of Heaven and Earth where I buy my jeans, or what kind of car I drive, or what subdivision I live in. Even the "Christian Counterculture" with all of its marketing materials, bracelets, bibles, and "Praise Craze" is nothing more than another facet of the Lie and buying into it. (So as not to beat a dead horse, I won't say any more about that.) Alana said in a beautiful way so much of what I needed to be reminded of, and perhaps what we all need to be reminded of at times; that "it" doesn't matter...that my "comfort" is not what is most important. Our Camp theme this year so perfectly fits this discussion, and is a good reminder about what matters. We are taking it from Matthew 5:16 “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.” Of course, the precursor to this verse is the Beatitudes themselves, and as a sub-theme and application verses, we are using James 1:22-27,

“Do not deceive yourselves by just listening to his word; instead, put it into practice. 23 If you listen to the word, but do not put it into practice you are like people who look in a mirror and see themselves as they are. 24 They take a good look at themselves and then go away and at once forget what they look like. 25 But if you look closely into the perfect law that sets people free, and keep on paying attention to it and do not simply listen and then forget it, but put it into practice—you will be blessed by God in what you do. 26 Do any of you think you are religious? If you do not control your tongue, your religion is worthless and you deceive yourself. 27 What God the Father considers to be pure and genuine religion is this: to take care of orphans and widows in their suffering and to keep oneself from being corrupted by the world.”

Perhaps if I spent as much time helping widows and orphans as I expend trying to "fit" and feel comfortable around those that may look down on me, I wouldn't forget so easily what I truly "look like" and what truly matters. Indeed, as Alana said so well, "Here is where it fits for me not to fit." May the Lord have mercy on me and help me to remember.

Blessed are the Poor...

This is from Alana's Blog "Morning Coffee." I thought it worth repeating here... Blessed are the poor, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.... Here is the place where grass pokes freely and rebelliously up through root-tattered sidewalk cracks. But these sidewalks get walked on, and are not just for show. The houses are small, cramped dingily together, with fringes of grass, old-fashioned blooms and rusty chain-link fences dividing the yards. The cars are old, bus stops close together and oft used. The people are old, tired, and ill-clad: Even the young...I look at lined faces of women who perhaps are my age. At one time I was surprised by missing teeth. This does not phase me anymore. Slumped shoulders, care-worn faces, shuffling steps, distended abdomens and the ever-dangling cigarettes and stretched out tatoos come sooner than the young want to admit. In the summer, at the pool, I notice that youth is for the young, while a fifteen year old mother splashes with her one-year old toddler in the shallow end where I am supervising my own brood. She's too young for motherhood, I think...and yet, there she is, doing the best she can. I admire her for it, and wish I could somehow help. The colors of this place are black, white, hispanic, all mixed together, shouldering the burden of minimum wage jobs together. The youngest generation, more often than not, is bi-racial...and I see the color of this neighborhood gradually changing to a more homogenous light/medium brown. The variety will be missed. And there is an honesty here which draws me...I don't have to pretend to be what I am not. I don't have to pretend to be prosperous, or beautiful. I don't have to pretend to have it made. If my hair is being impossible, or if I have a ketchup stain on my shirt, no one will care. Sometimes, when I drive out of my neighborhood, I wonder if it's vestiges are clinging to me...I get tempted to try and be more beautiful, more successful looking, spiffier, shinier....prosperous, so that people will think well of me. I feel shy, taking my kids to the playland on the other side of town...the side where we do not live. There, the mom's pull up in their SUV's, designer-clad children disembark to play. Although I don't quite fit in as a part of the neighborhood where I live, I know for sure I wouldn't fit in this world. Occasional forrays are all I can stand. But the truth of the matter is, no one can tell that my eddie bauer clothes came from the thrift store. No one can tell that my brand new Kia minivan is our only car...and what is best of all: In the grand scheme of life, no one cares. And so I realize it is the lie lurking inside my head that I must combat: the lie told by the media, the lie on TV...the lie about the stuff, the lie about the looks, the lie about prosperity and peace, the lie that my full belly is all that matters. It chafes...this living in the world, and trying not to be a part of it. How to go about doing this work? Here is where I am, and I want to bring God's kingdom into this place.... Here, is where it fits for me not to fit. - posted by alana @ 12:11 PM