The times they are a-changing...

This past Tuesday was easily one of the most inspirational nights of my life. Standing with a half dozen of my close friends, watching with hundreds of others in downtown Austin as the results of the presidential election were being announced, I couldn't believe the history that was unfolding. I'd hoped so much that Obama would win, but my years of living in the South had left me skeptical that our country had progressed enough to elect a black man president. There is still so much racial inequality in our nation, so many wounds from slavery & segregation that are still being healed... and yet on Tuesday night it was obvious that change has indeed come. I can honestly say I don't think I've ever been more proud to be an American as I was when I saw that Obama had clinched the victory, and then watched as millions of people in cities all around the country celebrated the historic moment with tears of joy and shouts of triumph. Seeing MLK's dream come true, that one day our nation would judge people not by the color of their skin but by the content of their character -- it made me more hopeful than I've been in a long time about the condition of the soul of America. Obviously this is not the end, not by any means. It was just one night in a long journey towards the United States becoming a more perfect union, which in all actuality is a journey that will never come to an end. But there can be no doubt that things were different on Wednesday morning, and that the change was a good one. It actually reminded me of the way New Orleans felt the morning after the Saints first post-Katrina home game back in the Superdome. After so much tragedy, the Saints had crushed the Falcons in their "Welcome Dome" celebration, and as I'd gone to get beignets at Cafe Du Monde the next morning, there was such optimism and energy in the air that no New Orleanian could do anything but smile. That's how it felt to be an American on Wednesday, except on such a grander scale, with so much more significance.

And yet this morning as I continued contemplating this epic change, I was struck by a sobering thought. As a Christian, my hope definitely doesn't lie in Barack Obama to save our country. No president, nor any individual person for that matter, is capable of bringing real redemption and healing to our nation - only God can do that. And how does God do that? Through the Church. And it's that thought that made my heart sink. Looking at the Church, the Church in America specifically, it's hard for me to feel much inspiration. We are so divided, so perverted by greed and hate, so lacking in embodying the Love of Christ. American citizens may have voted for a black man to be President, but it's estimated that only 5% of churches in this country are racially integrated. We as the Church should be leading the way in racial reconciliation and fighting injustice and alleviating poverty, yet in so many ways we fail to do as much as non-believers towards addressing these issues. When I hear fellow Christians spewing condemnation on gays, or touting the right to accumulating individual wealth, or belittling those on welfare for their assumed laziness, it makes me feel like "What's the point of remaining a part of this sick, sick Body? This is a lost cause." And yet, the Church is my family. I have pledged my fidelity to Jesus, which also means loving the brothers and sisters that He has given me. And it means that, while we may struggle and stumble in our efforts to love God and love each other, we know that in the end we will be victorious in overcoming the darkness -- not because we create good after-school programs, or plan the right mission trips, or pass the right legislature. We'll be victorious because Christ's Love will reign in our lives. As Jesus prayed, "May they be brought to complete unity to let the world know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me." (John 17:22)

And the truth is, I'm not just seeing changes for the good in America. I'm seeing changes for the good in the church too. I see Leroy & Sarah & Irvin and the other amazing leaders of Mission Year raising up a new generation of Christians who are learning how to be good neighbors. I see all the folks in St. Roch who are rebuilding New Orleans by bringing "beloved community" to the 8th Ward. I see Phil & Constance loving the people of Thailand, Jonathan & Lauren loving the Didinga in Sudan, Kelly & Mo & Annie & Travis loving the people of Cairo -- and so many more friends who understand that God's family isn't divided by borders and oceans. I see my fellow friends living in the St. John's neighborhood here in Austin - striving to share the Gospel with their lives, not just their words. When I see these lives, and the lives of so many more of you, I'm so encouraged to see so many others who are genuinely seeking the Kingdom. It may be a long, slow journey... but we are learning from those who went before us, and we are learning to trust in the only One who can make all things possible.

And so, I hope that with the dawning of this new age in America, that we as citizens will rise to the challenge of being the change we want to see (as Gandhi proclaimed.) But even more so, I hope that we as the Church will step up and become the Church that we want to see too.

Sudan: Post-Trip Summary

** I just realized that I never posted my final summary from my trip to Sudan (the one that went out to my supporters and donors.) So, here it is:

“So how was Sudan?”

The one word response: good.
The three word response: challenging but joyful.
Any answer longer than that, and it starts getting exponentially harder to describe.

On August 1st, I and eleven others headed out from Austin and began making our journey to Africa. After changing flights in D.C., London, Nairobi, & Lokichoggio (Kenya), we boarded the small plane that would take us over the Kenyan border and into the hills of Southern Sudan. Our destination was Nagishot -- which is not so much a village as a county of rural residents, home to a tribe called the Didinga. Our purpose in going was to experience the Didinga culture, meet local pastor William Laku and his wife Eunice, and to see and support the boarding school that they are establishing.

Life in Nagishot is extremely primitive. There is no running water or electricity, and only one road (which is accessible by car only during the dry season). The nearest market is a 36 mile hike away. The Didinga language is only now beginning to be developed into a written form as more outsiders have tried to develop means of translation. In some ways it is beautifully simplistic. No processed food or traffic reports. Campfires every night and breathtaking scenery every morning. Views of monkeys playing in treetops instead of rising condominiums. Recreation meant dancing and playing soccer instead of merely watching ESPN or playing Wiis.

And yet it is a very difficult life too. Practically all residents are subsistence farmers, growing mostly corn, wheat, and sugarcane to survive. Women spend their entire days either in the field or over an open fire – creating food for their families to eat. (After helping plant wheat and carry jugs of water from the river, we had a whole new appreciation for each meal we ate!) Healthcare is extremely basic. Almost everyone has lost a family member to the civil wars, and many have spent almost their entire life in refugee camps. For those who aren’t Christians, the dominant belief system revolves around appeasing the local gods – making sacrifices when the rains don’t come or placing curses on others when they are wronged. It is an oppressive and hopeless faith, and many become addicted to a local alcoholic brew that is created to provide distraction through drunkenness. It was into this dichotomy of beauty and pain that we entered, joining for thirteen days into the work, celebrations, and culture of the Didinga people.

Besides being students of the local way-of-life, we primarily strived to encourage the work being done by the Laku family and the local church to build a much needed boarding school. The name of the school will be “City on a Hill”, based on the Biblical passage in Matthew 5:14-16 which states that the church is the light of the world that cannot be hidden, leading others to praise God as they see the good deeds that Christians display. In our brief time with the church in Nagishot, it was remarkable to see how fully they are already embodying those verses, and inspiring to think how much MORE they desire to be a light to their community. The hope is that the school will not only provide education for the Didinga children, but that it will house and teach children from other surrounding tribes as well. Though historically there has been tension and violence between these rivaling tribes, William and Eunice believe that if leaders of the next generation can live together as children -- playing and learning and building friendships with each other -- then the tribes can form more peaceful relationships in the years to come. It was inspiring to hear the Lakus share about their plans first hand with us and to see that despite many obstacles, they are forging ahead with building. In our time with them we prayed daily for the school, helped transport bricks, carried timber from the forest for the desks, and visited with the children and potential local teachers.

While the dream for the school came from the vision of the Lakus, and while the hope is that the school will eventually be self-sustained without foreign aid, there is a great need for outside help in order to see the school established. Fifty years of civil war have left the Sudanese with few resources and little civil structure, in a land that was greatly underdeveloped to begin with. Our American team of young adults is committed to partnering with the Didinga and assisting their dream as much as we can -- believing it is both a responsibility and a joy to share the blessings we’ve been given, and knowing also that we have much to learn from the beautiful Didinga people. Currently, the relationship between our two communities is simply that of friendship – particularly between the Lakus and our team leaders, Jonathan and Lauren Ramirez (who will be moving to Sudan this winter with a long-term commitment to ministering with the Lakus.) But as we look to being more involved financially and logistically, our team is in the process of establishing a non-profit organization or a NGO through which to funnel resources and information. We are already receiving counsel from faculty at the University of Texas and from other professionals who are providing consultation for the project. It is so exciting to be a part of these early steps, believing fully that God has begun an incredible work!!

The process for seeing this vision become reality will be a long journey, but I invite you to join with us in partnering with the church in Nagishot. If you’d like to get email updates about the progress of the project, then email me at ERLing82@gmail.com, and I’ll be sure to let you know about developments as things begin coming together over these next months. Until we establish an official organization, we will be raising funds through Austin Stone Community Church. If you would like to contribute financially to helping found the City on a Hill School, see the enclosed form for details. Many of us are also considering returning to Sudan for longer stints – becoming teachers, dorm “parents”, mentors, and project assistants alongside the local Didinga who are heading up the school. Please be praying for our team as we consider how best we as individuals can continue to advocate for and contribute to the incredible work that is underway.

Lastly, a huge THANK YOU for all of your prayers and support that made my own journey to Sudan possible. Whether I ever return to Nagishot or not, it was an incredible experience to enter into the lives of the Didinga tribe for the weeks that I did. I felt honored to share with others the rich blessings you all have given to me, and I left with many challenging questions and beautiful memories still stirring in my heart.

Blessings and grace to each of you,
With much love,
emily

Gates of Hell

So obviously when people find out I’m going to Sudan, they are often curious about why I want to do such a thing. And usually I refrain from mentioning anything spiritual… since 1) a lot of people are leery about the idea of “missionary” work, and 2) given my own hesitations about evangelism, I’m not exactly leading the pack on “reaching the nations for Jesus” zeal. However, the truth is, a lot of my motivations are spiritually grounded – though I could spend hours writing on why that is and how my religious convictions have developed and been re-shaped over the past years. No time for that now, but I did want to share some thoughts that are relevant to answering the questions of “Why Sudan?” and “Why go some place so dangerous and broken?” The following is an excerpt from “Jesus for President” by Shane Claiborne and Chris Haw – two guys who grew up in a similar religious culture as I did, and who are now bringing some valuable perspective to re-thinking some of those truths we learned as kids in the Bible Belt. (Sorry if the train of thought is kinda fractured.. but I’m gonna skip around some for the sake of brevity.)

“There’s a lot of bad theology out there. Some folks tell us we shouldn’t worry about caring for creation since it’s all going to burn soon anyway. Other folks have a fatalistic view that the world stinks, so we just need to prepare people to die. But we are convinced that Jesus came not to prepare us to die but to teach us how to live. The kingdom of God is not just something we hope for when we die but something we live ‘on earth as it is in heaven.’ And we’re not willing simply to promise the world that there is life after death when the world is asking, ‘Is there life before death?’ We are thankful for heaven, but we are not willing to stand by and watch people live through hell to get there…

We remember as children hearing hellfire and damnation sermons… we all went forward to repent of all the evil things we had done over the first decade of our lives, motivated by the fear of being ‘left behind.’ The preacher literally scared the hell out of us… But have you ever noticed that Jesus didn’t spend much time on hell? Really there are only a couple of times when he spoke of weeping and gnashing of teeth, of hell and God’s judgment, and both had to do with the walls we create between ourselves and our suffering neighbors. [Commentary on the passage in Matthew 25, and the parable of Lazarus and the rich man]… God is in the business of rescuing people from the hells they experience on earth. And God is asking us to love people out of those hells. Hell is not just something that comes after death, but it is something many are living in this very moment: 1.2 billion people groan for a drop of water each day; more than thirty thousand kids starve to death each day; and thirty-eight million folks are dying of AIDS. It seems ludicrous to think of preaching to them about hell when we would do better sitting at the well asking them for a little water. We see Jesus spending far more energy loving the hell out of people, and lifting people out of the hells in which they are trapped, than trying to scare them into heaven. And one of the most beautiful things we get to see in community here in Kensington is people who have been loved out of the hells they find themselves in – domestic violence, addiction, sex trafficking, loneliness.

C.S. Lewis understood hell not as a place where God locks people out of heaven but as a dungeon that we lock ourselves into… With this new perspective, we gain new insight when we look at the parable of Lazarus or hear the brilliant words with which Jesus reassured Peter that ‘the gates of hell will not prevail against you.’ As adolescents, we understood that to mean that the demons and fiery darts of the Devil will not hit us. But lately we’ve done a little more thinking and praying, and we have a bit more insight on gates. Gates are not offensive weapons. Gates are defensive – walls and fences we build to keep people out. God is not saying the gates of hell will not prevail as they come at us. God is saying that we are in the business of storming the gates of hell, and the gates will not prevail as we crash through them with grace.

People sometimes ask if we are scared of the inner city. We say that we are more scared of the suburbs. Jesus warns that we can fear those things which can hurt our bodies or those things which can destroy our souls, but we should be far more fearful of the latter. Those are the subtle demons of suburbia. As Shane’s mother says, ‘Perhaps there is no more dangerous place for a Christian to be than in safety and comfort, detached from the suffering of others.’ We’re scared of apathy and complacency, of detaching ourselves from the suffering. Just as we are building walls to keep people out of our comfortable, insulated existence, we are trapping ourselves in a hell of isolation, loneliness, and fear… Let’s pray that God would give us the strength to storm the gates of hell and tear down the walls we have created between us and those whose suffering would disrupt our comfort.”

There’s no question that the people of Sudan have already lived through hell on earth. After 50 years of civil war, of death and fear and sorrow and hate – there is no doubt that many of the Sudanese have been trapped in a cycle of horror that would rival any nightmare we could imagine of fire and brimstone. And so if I believe that Christ calls us to love our neighbors and to pursue His Kingdom, there’s no way I can believe He merely wills us to share with the Sudanese about some promise of heaven-after-you-die. Would I hope that they would want to pursue a relationship with Jesus? Of course – because I don’t think anyone can ever truly experience Life Abundant apart from Grace. But surely loving our neighbors also means joining the fight against all the things that would steal life from them – including war, poverty, hatred and fear. And I think it’s hard, if not impossible, to fight against those things from a distance. Obviously not everyone is called to go to the front-lines of tragedies – to the war-zones or hospitals or inner-cities or nursing homes. But I DO think we are called to do our part to join in what God is doing to bring love and healing and hope and grace to those places. I think it’s a gift the Lord gives us actually – an invitation to play some small part in seeing redemption happen, in seeing restoration take place. And in fact I think it’s impossible for us to ever experience grace and healing in our own lives if we refuse to find commonality in the suffering of others.

And so am I going to Sudan to “share God with people”? Yes. But that’s because I think God isn’t just in the business of “life after death” – I’m pretty convinced He’s in the business of bringing life before death too. And Sudan could definitely use more folks striving to see more life there. More peace there. More joy there. To me, it’d be totally worth risking a little danger, if in the end we get to conquer some of death’s grip on a weary land and replace it with life and hope.

Basketball and Faith

The other day I was re-reading through some of my old journals – an activity I take up sometimes because it’s good to reflect back on the journey of life, and to recall lessons from the past that helped make me who I am today. The journal I picked up most recently was from September 2004 – during my first few weeks of Mission Year in Atlanta. It’s so funny to read about my arrival there – completely unaware at the time of how amazing that year would turn out to be. I happened across some thoughts I wrote down after one of Leroy Barber’s inspiring talks, and wanted to share what I wrote back then…

“At training we got to hear from Leroy – great speaker. He gave an awesome analogy that really stirred my heart. He was talking about how a guy can show up at a basketball court for a pickup game and look like he’s the deal – great jersey, the best shoes, can talk like he’s a baller. But then he can step on the court and have no game to back the image. So then Leroy turned that on us – how right now we all look good, or else we wouldn’t be here. But can we play?? There are a ton of critics who will say we can’t – that a bunch of twentysomethings can’t be serious enough to do this -- to leave the fast-track and live in the inner-city, learning what it means to love your neighbor as yourself.

That totally challenged me. Ya, I look good. I can throw around terms like ‘holistic well-being’ and ‘social justice’ – and I can quote passages of Scripture that talk about serving the poor. But can I take all of that head knowledge – like the recognition of a pick-n-roll or the figures of Lebron James’ contract – and actually live it out? Actually execute the play or pop the clutch trey? Can I follow Jesus throughout a year in Atlanta?? I don’t know. I want to. I want to so bad.

My thought with that though too was how even if I don’t have what it takes right now, I can still succeed IF I’m coachable. If I listen closely to Coach and trust Him to change my ways and my heart. Then ya, I can play this game. I can experience Christ. I can take part in the Kingdom.

So here’s to beginning the season…”

Looking back with hindsight, that season was incredible. Probably the most I’ve ever matured and learned in one single year. It made me critique how this season in my life is going. Am I still bringing my A-game to life every morning? Still trying to suck all the marrow out of each day, still trying to love God and love people with all I am, still feeling the urgency and passion to fight for goodness and truth in every relationship I have? Well… I’m not sure. In some ways, yes. There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t think about seeking after the Lord and striving to see His Kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven. But in other ways, not so much. There are definitely times when I feel like I’m just kinda cheering on others from the bench, or that I’m complaining to my teammates about not being in good enough shape (meanwhile I’m grabbing Snickers and Sunkists before the game instead of a chicken sandwich and wondering why I’m out of energy in the first half.) But then, I know that none of us are really “off the court”, and that perhaps this stage I’m in is just part of the process. Maybe these months and years of questions are like being in the lockerroom watching film on an upcoming opponent. It’s not exciting in and of itself, but it’s needed in order to understand the challenges to come. My perspectives on life continue to change with pretty rapid speed, and I’m trusting that all these varied experiences in the past years are only going to develop me more into a better follower-of-God and a better lover-of-humanity. Still, if I’m honest, there are numerous ways in which I’m not bringing my best to this journey, and I know I need to stop settling for mediocrity. Too much glory at stake to play with anything but reckless abandon. Time to step it up.

Provision

So, I have a confession to make. Of all the so-called crazy adventures that I've been on, this whole trip to Sudan has been the one I've been the least confident about going on. Looking back on previous times in my life when I made the decisions to 1) go on a trip to Haiti, 2) move in with strangers to a house in innner-city Atlanta, and 3) sign up to volunteer for a year in post-Katrina New Orleans -- I always made those choices having had a pretty sure conviction that that was the step God was leading me to take. In lots of different ways, it had truly seemed that the Lord gave me pretty tangible confirmation in each of those circumstances that He was in fact opening a door for me to walk through. Which of course gave me a lot of peace once I was in those places, knowing that even if things were difficult, I was where I was supposed to be.

But this time, things have been different. When I first heard about the trip, I immediately WANTED to go, but I had no reason to think I actually SHOULD go. I'm pretty sure that I'd want to go on almost any opportunity that presented itself to travel to another country, so it's not like desire itself was much of a confirmation factor to me. But once I found out that my AmeriCorps project was going to end 4 months earlier than it was originally supposed to, then I actually seriously started thinking about going since I no longer had a job commitment keeping me in Austin this summer. And yet, as I pondered and prayed about whether I should sign up or not, I never received any major "signs" directing me to go or not go. No convenient Bible verses during my devotion time that read "Go to Africa." No seemingly Divinely orchestrated conversation with a stranger that mentioned Sudan. I didn't know if I should really be going or not, or if this was just an example of my desire for periodic adrenaline rushes or new and exciting adventures. Eventually it was commit-or-miss-the-boat time though, and I finally just said "yes" - feeling like it was a good work to be a part of, and that if I really wasn't "supposed" to go, then God would have made that known.

But then came the question of how to pay for the trip. My AmeriCorps job for the past year had pretty much just provided a living stipend, not an actual salary... so the savings I'd been able to put away had been pretty slim. Even if I emptied my bank account, I wasn't going to have enough to pay for all the expenses on my own. The rest of the team was raising support (the Christian term for fundraising), but I really wasn't so hot on that idea. After having done that so much already in the past few years, I felt like it was time to stop asking people to fund the work I was doing... particularly when I couldn't say definitely that God had "called me to go" on this trip. I truly do believe in the members of the Church taking care of each others' needs and each contributing their part to the work of the Kingdom, so I think I would have been much more alright in doing traditional support raising if I'd had more "spiritual direction" for wanting to go. But truth is, I'm probably less confident in evangelism now than I've ever been… and my reasons for wanting to go were much more personal than ministry-oriented. (Well, actually, that gets into the whole idea of WHAT ministry is, which is an area where my beliefs have changed a lot in the past few years. In a different way, my heart is completely ministry-oriented in why I want to go, but not religiously-oriented.) But nonetheless, plane tickets weren't going to buy themselves, so I had to figure out how to cover my expenses. In the end, I decided to not do fundraising in the way that I had before… with the exception being a few folks who I knew would want to give if they knew I was going, so I felt o.k. letting them know what was up. Instead, I simply told folks that I was on a team going to Sudan, and trusted that somehow God would indeed provide the money if this was supposed to happen.

And… incredibly-but-not-really-surprising-because-God-is-gracious-like-that… all the money was provided. And it definitely happened in ways that I would never have guessed. Almost a third of the money was given by people in my church small group – folks who I didn't even know 7 months ago, but who have loved me so much as we've learned about Sudan together these past months, and who really believed in me being on the team. Almost another third came from a handful of generous people who I see less than once a year, and yet who wanted to be a part of this work. I was able to cover for another third on my own by picking up some extra shifts at my job. And the rest came from some good friends who, while young and themselves not well off, are passionate about fostering goodness and Life – and thus gave what they could to support our trip.

Looking back on it, my faith and my heart are so encouraged to see how God has been more than faithful to extend His provision to me through the generosity of others, particularly during a time in life when I've done my share of spiritual questioning. It increases my confidence in the grandness and goodness of the Lord – that He's not going to stop caring for me just because I'm taking less traditional roads to Him lately… and that while my skepticism of organized religion may be well-founded, I'm not a fool for trusting that Christ is indeed Truth and Life. Doubtful of cultural Christendom?, perhaps. But my soul has been made too alive for me to ever renounce the reality of Jesus Himself, and the amazing Restoration that I continue to see played out every day.

Spiritually, I remain in a place where the questions continue to come, and where I long for greater wisdom and am eager to learn so much more than I know. But tonight, I've experienced Provision, and am thus grateful to the Provider.

And it makes me all the more excited to see what else lies ahead once we actually get to Sudan. :)