Step Sixty-Four: Why don't we talk to them?

Dear Readers,

Last night, I was listening to one of my peers talk about her experiences in Cambodia. Some of you may well know this, but Cambodia is one of the top countries involved in sex trafficking, especially children sex trafficking. In fact, in one small village Soltek, the entire economy is rooted in sex trafficking. As my peer was talking about these precious little girls, I was moved. These were real pictures or real children, children who came back beaten, raped, and hurting. Or to quote my friend "these aren't pictures of little girls like those being trafficked, these are the little girls being trafficked." She went on to explain that trafficking exists because of the demand for it and how this demand is fueled primarily by foreign men, primarily rich white men.This got me thinking. Then she mentioned how at night, they would be at a restaurant and at the next table was a white man and all she could think was "I know why you are here, I know what you're doing at night." She then said she didn't know what to do with that. That is when this wretched thought entered into my mind: why don't we talk to them? I hate this thought. It requires that I publicly say that we need to love pedophiles.... yet, truth is truth. We are called to the cause of orphans. We are called to love those sweet children who have been violated in ways that are not okay. But they are easy to love. Anyone can feel the child's plight and everyone should. But for as many sexually abused children get rescued out of that world, for as many as we "save" from that life, there is another parent eager to sell their bodies, another customer ready to buy, another child in need of saving. The sad reality is that we cannot just address the children in sex trafficking. We need to start addressing the violators, to start addressing the parents who are selling their children.

It would be so easy to urge you all to donate money, to take missions trips, to open your hearts and your arms to those sweet girls. Yet, within my own heart, there is a tightening when I mention opening your hearts and arms to those men. My stomach churns at the thought. How can I ask this of you? How can I ask this of myself? Yet, here I am. We need to love these men. In no way am I suggesting we justify their actions. No number of excuses will justify these men's choices to violate those sweet smiling faces. That will never be okay. But consider this: the majority of those pedophiles were sexually abused. Once upon a time, they were those sweet smiling faces. When did their smiles morph from being a child's broken innocence into a monster's leer? When they ceased to be small? When they grew up? When they first acted out their wounds on someone else? The answer is never. They are human. Yes, a broken and flawed human, but also a needy and terrified human. A human doing what they were taught. If we want to stop sex trafficking, we have to stop the demand. Paul reminds us that it is easy to love our friends and hard to love our enemies but here is the harsh reality of our call today: it is easy to love those children and it is hard to love those pedophiles but we are called to love both.

I'm not sure what to do with this thought. I'm not. Should I fly to Cambodia, hang out in the brothels, walk the streets of Soltek at night? I don't know. But my question to you, my question for my friend, and most importantly my question for myself is if I meet that man, if I am at the table beside his, why don't I talk to him?

Step Sixty-Three: He is Simple

Dear Readers,

I like to make God complicated. I do. He is never just who He says He is. It isn't that I think He is lying... it is that I don't trust Him (yeah, I know it is the same thing). But God is God. His being may be extraordinarily complex, but He is simple. When He says "I love you" He means "I love you." He is constant and unchanging. He does not change his mind, He does not have regrets. He just is. I like this about Him...

The youtube video that acted as background music and partial inspiration. I just thought it was super powerful...

Step Sixty-Two: Our Father

Dear Readers,

"God is patient, God is kind. He does not envy, He does not boast, He is not proud. He is not rude, He is not self-seeking, He is not easily angered, He keeps NO record of wrongs. God does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. He always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. God NEVER fails. 1 Corinthians 13:4-8"

My friend left this as part of a note on my computer months ago. I love the note and often re-read it, celebrating in her love and in her encouragement. I have seen, heard and read this scripture on several occasions. I recently re-read my friend's note and for the first time the last two sentences captured my attention.

The truth is, I have a really hard time seeing God as my father. Actually, I have a hard time accepting that God's actions are fatherly. You see, they aren't to me. I don't associate protection, trust, hope, or perseverance with a father. And yet, God is asking me to.

We keep arguing (a rather futile thing to do, to do on my part, given the fact that He is God of the UNIVERSE) about this idea. I am absolutely terrified to accept Him as my Father. I have never known a father who protects. Never. Only a father I needed protection from. Yet, for all my arguing, He speaks softly, sweetly, calmly. He never rebukes me for my doubt or my fear, even for my fear of Him. He speaks to me like a child hiding in a corner, petrified of their own shadow. He whispers softly "It's okay sweet heart. I'm here. It's okay sweet heart." I want so badly to throw my arms around Him, to sob on His shoulder, to disappear in His strong arms... but I can't. I can't do it. I can't let my guard down. I can't quiet my fears.

I can't quiet my fears because I don't believe. Oh yes, I believe in God. I believe in Jesus as my Lord and my Savior. I even believe my God is good. But within this new context of intimacy... I scarcely know what to believe. I want to believe my Father is good, that He is trustworthy, that He will protect my very scared heart, but all reason and logic rebel against the thought. I can't believe that He is good. Not yet, anyways. So I sit in my corner, sobbing and terrified. And He crouches in front of me, shielding me from seeing anything but Him. He whispers softly "It's okay sweet heart. I'm here. It's okay sweet heart."

I know this post really isn't all that bold. It's actually pretty pathetic but this blog post, while about me, isn't about me. Sometimes, we can't be bold. Sometimes, we can't unfold ourselves from our hiding place long enough to experience all the wonders of the world. Sometimes we are creatures of fear. To those who are curled in the corner, I just want to encourage you. God the Father is... there. And He isn't leaving. He is crouching before you, His hand extended, whispering that everything is going to be okay. Our courage fails, our belief grows wane, and our fear swamps us but He never fails. He never walks away. He is good. He is trustworthy. He is protecting us. He is... love.

Step Sixty-One: The Gift of Receiving Presence

Dear Readers,

This Christmas I learned a very hard lesson. I learned about the gift of receiving. Not just receiving presents but the gift of receiving presence. I learned a while ago the importance of graciously receiving another person's gifts. Of accepting that they genuinely wanted to share with you, to enjoy something with you. It wasn't natural to me, but I have gotten the hang of it. This year, however, I had to learn something much harder.

I am spending Christmas break with a friend's family. At first, it was hard. I missed my family and knowing what the traditions were. But more so, I felt that I was intruding. Make no mistake, my friend and her entire family have been nothing but inviting, they have given me no reason to feel anything but welcome. Yet, I felt acutely aware of one singularly daunting reality: this was not mine.

I was frustrated and discouraged. I wanted to have a good holiday, I wanted my friend and her family to have a good holiday. I just felt like there was something stopping me. As I explored this feeling of being blocked I came to a realization: I was not receiving. My friend's family had offered me every opportunity, they showered me with love and generosity. Up until this point I had been unable to receive that. I wanted it, I longed to let myself experience it, but I was afraid.

The problem, I found, was that in receiving the gift of their presence, in fully delighting in them, in who they were and what their hospitality had done for me I had to let my guard down. What I am saying is, in receiving the gift of presence, we must also give the gift of our presence.

It's terrifying, to let someone else meet you, to give them the option of delighting in you, or of rejecting you. It is a risk. But then, that is the purpose of this blog. To dare you. To challenge you. To prove to both you and to myself that risks are rewarding. I'm not denying it, sometimes we will be rejected. It will hurt and it will suck. But those moments, those rare and awesome moments, when you allow yourself to be fully and completely present with someone else, to be fully and completely delighted in by someone else... well the romantic in me can't help but think those moments are entirely worth it.

Step Sixty: Be Like Timothy

Dear Readers,

Recently, God brought onto the table an opportunity for me to serve Him through a business. At first I was crazy excited. The opportunity is unique and is a ministry that I can stand behind. Then I let my thoughts get the better of me. I'm a college kid. I couldn't possibly serve Him in an effective way, could I? Then God reminded me, rather forcibly, that He uses youth to His advantage. As it says in 1 Timothy 4:12 "Don't let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith, and in purity."

Throughout most of the bible God repeatedly uses those of youth to serve Him. King David is a Shepard BOY and he becomes the man after God's own heart. King Josiah comes to thrown at 8, and begins his religious reforms in his twenties and completely reforms the entire nation. Mary was probably my age when she was pregnant with Jesus. Heck. Even Jesus himself wasn't all that old when he died. Reality is, young or old God can use us. He will use us. It isn't a question of our usefulness, it is a question of our willingness.

I am saying yes. I have absolutely NO idea where He is going to take me or how it is going to change my life, but I am ready to watch Him change the world. Are you?

Step Fifty-Nine: Go Treasure Hunting

Dear Readers,

It is the week before finals... a.k.a. the week you give yourself a heart attack panicking because you still have several unwritten term papers and you should have started studying ages ago. Having finished a second consecutive paper and feeling slightly stressed I decided it was time to blow off some steam. As I was returning tonight I ran into a friend I have been longing to talk to, but have not had time to mesh schedules with. I choose to believe that it was divine procrastination that brought us together. As I embraced my friend and engaged her in conversation, the stresses of school and change and life fell away. As I genuinely took a moment to delight in her beauty and in our friendship, I let my priorities realign themselves. I was less concerned about the motion of individual slides on tomorrow's powerpoint slide and more concerned with loving this wonderful woman and delighting in her heart.

I took a moment to hit the pause button of life. I took a moment to bask in the beauty that God has granted my friend. Dipped my heart in a wellspring of wisdom. And it was wonderful!

The reality is we all need a pause button. Better yet, we need to be our own pause button. We were uniquely created to be in community with God AND with others. If we are so busy doing things that we cease to see the beauty that God has endowed each and every one of us then it is past time to hit that pause button. Take a moment and allow our priorities realign themselves. When the clock strikes midnight (figurative, not the 30 minutes from now midnight) the grade I got on my history paper, the amount of study time I put into my courses, nor the number of perfect scores I get will have any weight. Instead it will be conversations like the one I had tonight in which God's face is unveiled through my friend that I will spend eternity unraveling.

I told my friend that each of us has a hidden treasure within us. God has given each of us some unique characteristic, some individual aspect of Himself. It is my joy to dive into my own heart and into the hearts of those around me in search of those gems. And when I get into heaven, I imagine that on the rainy gray days Jesus and I will sit down with some kettle corn by a purple fire burning in the shape of a dinosaur and we will start to piece together the puzzle of God. The trick is to find enough of the pieces to make a picture!

So, when in doubt, pause all that adult-y stuff and go treasure hunting with your friends!

Step Fifty-eight: Make it Magical

Dear Readers,

I have a confession to make: I disliked Christmas. Actually, I loathed it. My memories of the holiday are riddled with fighting, tension, and overwhelming sadness. Christmas decorations made me cringe. Christmas music made me want to flee. In fact, I hated Christmas so much that the thought of the quickly approaching holiday sent me into numerous panic attacks. I could rationalize that Christmas was going to be very different this year. I could reason that there would not be fighting or tension or misery engulfing me this year. But I couldn't believe it. Not in my heart.

In the beginning of November, my friend mentioned that she really wanted to go to Disneyland for her birthday. My wing-mates, being the crazy spontaneous and awesome people they are, jumped right on board. So it was settled, the first weekend of December (a.k.a last weekend) we decided that we would road trip the 8 hours to Los Angeles for the weekend and hit up the fantastic world of Disney.

Now, for those of you who have ever been to Disneyland during the holidays, you know that Disneyland in December is Christmas-palooza and therefore my worst nightmare. I worried about going, fretted how my body would react, worried about ruining the trip for my friends.... but I decided I would go anyways. So Friday afternoon rolls around, our car is packed, the food conveniently located for snacking purposes and my last class of the day is finally over. We spend the next 8 hours blaring music, licking our cheetoh-orange fingers and chatting. We arrive at one of my wing-mate's house, meeting up with our friend's and, being girls, we talked until late that night.

The next morning we woke up "early", ate our breakfast, and headed to that magical place. Upon entering the park, a giant Christmas tree, decked with ornaments and lights and fake snow, greeted us. I, as a whole, dismissed it from my thoughts and instead focused on the awesomeness of being in Disneyland. We had dedicated ourselves to staying until after Fantasmic, a show Disneyland puts on at night after fireworks. As night time approached, we headed towards a giant castle decked out with lights. We found a seat close to the line for "It's a Small World After all" to watch the fireworks. As we settled ourselves amongst the crowd a song came over the many speakers. A princess sounding voice quieted the crowd. Fireworks exploded overhead. Flashes of color filled the night sky, illuminating the castle below it. It was a symphony of color and sound intermingling with one another, beautifully choreographed. As the show came on, snow was expelled and "Believe in Holiday Magic" started to play. The song was a challenge. It dared those to remember the ideal-ness of life, to remember the magic of the holidays. As the words to the song penetrated me, the castle lights turned back on and the snow fell around me, I recalled my own Christmases. They haven't been good. There is good reason for me to have feared Christmas. But no longer. I told myself when I left Colorado that I was reclaiming Christmas for my own, but the truth is, I was afraid of Christmas. Now, I am rewriting my memories.

My first Christmas memory is the sight of a giant Christmas tree, full of ornaments, lights, and fake snow. It stands in the center of a town square and greets all visitors. Garlands, lights and bows, wrap themselves around street lamps and shops. Wreaths hang over cross sections. My first Christmas memory is holding my friends hand while bright flares color the sky. It is sitting in a boat, traveling around "the world" while little puppets sing various Christmas carols. It is a giant castle lighted in just the right way so that the white light bulbs hang down the turrets looking like icicles. I cannot wait to see what new Christmas memories my friends and I create together! I am so excited for this new holiday!

To my fellow Grinches, I'm sure you have a reason for it. I'm even quite certain that it is entirely justified. I understand. But my question for you is what are you doing to change it? I spent so long running I forgot that life and holidays are what you choose to make them. I have chosen to make mine magical, pun intended, and I would hope that you would consider making yours magical too. Christmas is a truly beautiful time. It is my hope and prayer that you might have but a moment to experience that beauty!