Don't hush, little baby . . .

The Compassion babies are very loud.

They run that toddler-run . . . away from their mothers and then back to their mothers. They laugh. They scream.

I’m in Tanzania right now visiting with Compassion International who will be one of the key groups at the United Methodist Youth 2011 events. Since I’m one of the emcees for the event, I’ve been blessed to visit some of the work Compassion does in Tanzania through their child sponsorship programs.

Today we visited mothers and babies in the Compassion’s Child Survival Program (CSP) in Arusha, Tanzania (not far from Mt. Kilimanjaro). This is where I met the loud Compassion babies.

I’ve visited a number of African countries and met a lot of African babies. And the thing I’ve noticed about many of the babies I’ve met is that they are calm and peaceful. Most of them sit on their mothers’ laps and watch life happen so quietly.

But not the babies we met at the TAG Bethel Student Center where the CSP is run. These babies played peek-a-boo with us. They giggled when I tossed them into the air. They tugged at my beaded necklace or became fixated on my colorful Ember beads.

This is when I knew the work I was seeing was something special. The other babies I had met were so quiet because they were malnourished. They had no energy to cause a fuss. They were too dehydrated to cry tears.

But the babies I met today have been given a chance at life that many children in extreme poverty rarely get thanks to the amazing work of the people in their communities who run the program and the generous donations of people from around the world who support the program.

I saw this video when a friend posted it on Facebook last week. Why aren’t we as people of faith screaming from rooftops that we’re mad as hell that there are children who are lethargic not because they are just even tempered but because they have NO FOOD? What does it take to make us mad as hell that people in all corners of the world have nothing when so many of us have more than we ever need? Who have we become?

May more babies feast on the hope found in loud giggles and big tears. May more mothers be blessed with the ability to feed their children and watch them grow than mothers who become way too familiar with the process of burying their babies.

Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy.

Facebook: A Practice in Humility

While Facebook is certainly a practice in gross narcissism and internet stalking, I'm also learning a little about humility from Facebook today.

Last night I quoted Nelson Mandela in my status in celebration of South Africa's recent Mandela Day efforts to eliminate poverty: "Like slavery and apartheid, poverty is not natural. It is man-made, and it can be overcome and eradicated by the actions of human beings." Several of my FB friends clicked "like," but my first comment came from a guy I know who quoted Matthew 26:11 to suggest that even Jesus believes we'll never eliminate poverty and that Mandela's "conclusion is unfortunately flawed."

My natural inclination was to delete said FB Commenter (known as FBC from this point forward) from my friends. I have been in circles with FBC in-person, but he was always more acquaintance than friend, and I never see him at all anymore since his move. We're not close; we're really only FB friends now. And I nearly yanked every strand of hair from my head during the presidential election whenever I read his status updates. I don't think FBC would be broken-hearted to lose me as a Facebook friend.

Alas, in the real world I cannot simply delete people to silence their voices. In fact, I'm against that very thing. I am reminded of how small and powerless I am. I'm reminded that God sees all of us the same--even those of us with bad theology. I'm humbly and gratefully reminded that my life is enriched by my friend Mary, who often disagrees politically and theologically with me. I would never delete her. My friends don't all have to think exactly like I do; I'm glad that they don't. Thank you FB, for helping me remember what grace and patience God has for all of us.

Of course, even after my moment of realization, I'm still considering deleting FBC. What can I say? I'm unfortunately flawed.

FYI:

I appreciate this blogger I discovered who addresses the same Matthew text in a recent post if you're interested in hearing another theological approach to what Jesus might have been saying about the poor being with us.: No Such Thing as Silence.

Pilgrim People

Tonight, I went on a pilgrimage with our youth at church (whom I adore, by the way!). We did not go far. 1st Ave. in downtown Nashville was our farthest point, and we started at 4th (well, technically the journey began at 21st where our church building resides, but we started walking at 4th). In just those few blocks, however, we silently trekked the streets of Music City (well, most of the youth remained silent, that is). We traveled expecting to see God.

Even though we live in NashVegas, these particular streets are not streets we frequent. The occasional Titans game, music festival or out-of-town visitor might drag us to these streets, but we rarely walk them with pilgrim feet, hearts and eyes during those times.

Tonight my pilgrim eyes were most moved by the very end of our pilgrimage. We reflected on our calling to hospitality--to be in our community and open ourselves up to share our gifts with the community of strangers and friends we will encounter throughout life. So then we sat in front of the brand new symphony hall to hold our "Christ Candle" time. This weekly ritual invites us to pass around our candle (or our battery-powered lantern, as the case was tonight) and reflect on moments we've encountered God through the week. When the sharing/examen ends, we stand and give the UMYF (United Methodist Youth Fellowship) benediction.

Toward the end of our sharing, a man walked to our circle. He looked familiar with this part of town, possibly more familiar with the streets than we hoped for him. I don't know. He paused. He listened as the last person shared. When we stood up to speak the benediction, he placed his camo backpack and red hat on the ground. Without a word and with hands outstretched to join ours, he marched to the circle ready to pray. Grant and Kyle (two of our senior high youth) reached to him, as well, stepping away from one another to make space for our neighbor to join the circle. We prayed, smiled at one another through our benediction and twisted out of the circle.

He never said a word. Maybe he spoke to someone else; I did not hear him. I do not know his name. His presence, after engaging in conversation about hospitailty, was like being tucked into warm satin sheets and receiving a kiss on the forehead by Jesus who whispers to me:

rest well, sweet child and open
not just your eyes with the
Sunrise
but wake up and open your
circles, your church building, your
life, your hands and grab mine

Sans Houses

A beautiful Nashvillian has taken to the streets with a camera, recorder and an amazing heart, recording the stories of other beautiful Nashvillians living in this city without a house. She documents their stories at Sans Houses. Check it out! Amazing photography and audio clips!!

Can we afford silence on poverty?

We have seen the effects of the sin of poverty.

Hurricane Katrina finally forced the media to acknowledge something we've washed over for years. Poverty is one of the greatest ills of the United States, and yet we have managed to downplay it as often as we can.

Unfortunately, it took a tragedy for us to stop and consider the destructive nature of poverty. For us to be silent and ignore what we've learned would just add layers to the devastation that Katrina caused.

Soon the media will stop showing images. People will stop having a platform for telling their stories. We will move on to the next worst, greatest, horrific event to hit the country because that's what we do in the USA--we look for the next great story.

So the church must keep the stories at the forefront of our missions and ministries. We must remember Barbara in New Orleans, who never got to leave because she had no money, no car and no television warning her to evacuate before the storm. We must remember Ingrid, 8.5 months pregnant and staying in a Mississippi shelter with her father, husband and six-year-old son along with 4,000 strangers without a place to go and no money to get anywhere. We must remember faces we will never see, names we will never know and bodies we may never find--all victims of poverty and its terrorizing blow following Aug. 29's hurricane.

We must remember, pray and then speak boldly against the systems of injustice that have allowed us to overlook poverty for far too long. We must speak wisely and faithfully so that no person can turn deaf ears to the situation in the United States again. And we must continue speaking even when the ill has been cured on our own soil.

Poverty is a killer in many parts of the world. When I was in South Africa, I cleaned the feet of a man bedridden by a disease called poverty, which has manifested itself in the form of HIV/AIDS. In Jamaica, people sell their bodies because of a disease called poverty, which reveals itself in prostitution. In Paris, people are killed because of a disease called poverty, which unveils itself through crime. We must speak against systems of injustice all over the world.

We have now witnessed the effects of poverty in a dramatic way through the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. The church cannot afford to be silent.

Any ideas?

I started the day later than usual (although in the past two weeks "later" has been usual), but I was motivated to get out of the bed and walk/jog and do crunches when my dear friend J.O. sent a fitness article via e-mail. Then I met Kara and Becky at the Frothy Monkey! I love my covenant group meetings each week anyway, but meeting at the Frothy Monkey this week made it even more enticing. So we discussed life and all of its greatness over delicious sandwiches (I had the Ned--tofu, hummus, tomato, romaine lettuce, red peppers, wonderful!). And of course, I drank my "marriage water" (a.k.a. Fiji).

We didn't really discuss the covenant this week, which is probably good since I failed miserably at several spiritual disciplines over the past seven days. I still enjoyed being with them. And we discussed financial disparity, among other things. You have celebrities moving into the beautiful brownstones of Harlem. We applaud this because it marks a revitalization of the somewhat financially depressed area. But as the property value increases as the wealthy stake their claim, what happens to the residents in the area now who can barely afford their present living space? Is this really revitalization, or is it gentrification that will force those who call Harlem home to find a new home? Then you have Washington, DC . . . our nation's capital city! Walk one block from the pristine capitol building where the leaders of our nation and all of their riches work to maintain the welfare of the United States and we will be greeted by some of our nation's poorest. We will maybe nod at them, toss a dime or a dollar and then catch the Metro at Union Station. Well, it's here in Nashville, too. It's a reality of our lives. Kara said it best with a sigh, "There's just so much to do."

Anyway, I meet with a group of writers each Sunday we're all in town (usually every other Sunday), so yesterday we met over pancakes and French toast at the Pancake Pantry (yes, food makes every meeting even more worthwhile). We decided we all have to submit some of our work to at least one publication within the next month. Tom and I primarily write poetry; Kami writes creative nonfiction/essays primarily. It should be fun. So on top of other deadlines and work, I hope to get some poems together that I'm ready to submit. Yikes! Should I use what I have already? Should I write something new? I'm leaning toward something new . . . maybe a series of three poems relating to a single topic. But what topic? Any ideas? Throw me a word, a phrase or a concept, and I'll see what inspires me. Toss a topic my way, if you'll please! Thanks, friends!

Jesus, You are Knocking

A man and his stench come asking for new clothes.
He has no family, no job, no help.
Jesus, you are knocking.
Let us open wide the gates.

A woman and two children escaped a harmful home.
They have no money, no shelter, no help.
Jesus, you are knocking.
Let us open wide the gates.

A man and his empty stomach come in need of warm soup.
He has no food, no hope, no help.
Jesus, you are knocking.
Let us open wide the gates

We wait for you to come again but ignore you when
you are clothed as the least of these.
Jesus, when you are knocking,
we want to open wide the gates.

"We are indifferent to the message, taking only the pleasant and agreeable out of it and forgetting the serious aspect, that the God of the world draws near to the people of our little earth and lays claim to us." -Bonhoeffer
"Behold, I stand at the door . . . Open wide the gates!" -Psalm 24:7