Amos 6: You Who Are Complacent

This morning for my devotion I read the story of Amos chapter 6. In this chapter Amos is calling out the people in Zion and Mount Samaria for being complacent, and relaxing in their comfort while others around them suffer and are in great pain. 

This chapter was immediately convicting. How alike are we Americans to the people Amos was challenging? All we care about is our heath, our comfort, our freedom. We scold our government for "getting into other people's business that is not of our concern". We yell at them to send back foreign children without any help because they were wrong upon entering our country, and they might threaten our comfort, health, and freedom that was gained by our random entrance into a favorable birth place not of our choosing. We are hesitant to enter situations where we might not be completely comfortable, and always keep our best interest in mind forgetting the best interest of others. But are we not called to leave our comfort, and help those who are hurting? How selfish are we to lay back on our couches, watching our favorite shows, and pretending to care for all those we hear about on the nightly news. Yet, every morning we wake up in the comfort of our beds, and start over the process of pretending to have a heavy heart, but not acting on it. 

I want to challenge you to think about how you can step out of your comfort, refuse to be complacent, and help those who are hurting around you. Then go and do it. Because what worth does an idea hold if it is never called into action?

The Old Abandoned Storage Unit

*Before I say what I am about to say I want you, the reader, to know that it is not pointed at anyone. Nor has it been provoked by any recent event. Rather I was flipping through some thoughts while writing in my journal and came across a feeling deep in my heart that I felt might need to be heard.*

The thing is we all suffer. It is an unfortunate part of humanity. Everyone suffers with something different. Some of which come under the same category. Alcohol or drug abuse, mental disorder, compulsive liar, abuse, eating disorder, anxiety, panic disorder, and so on. But even when you are amongst the same category of pain as someone else it does not mean that you share the same pain. A problem with putting a title to pains like these is that people tend to generalize ideas about those who have been categorized into these groups. They think all who suffer with eating disorders got there because they hate their body. Or all who have been abused are stereotypically underprivileged, and can be picked out of a line up by the scars, bruises, and evidences of self-mutilation amongst their bodies and spirits. But reality is no one person suffers in the exact same way as the next.

The truth is if you want to know how someone suffers reading a book about their suffering written by a different author, or watching a film about it might give you a grasp. But if there is anything this last year has taught me it is that if you truly want to know how a single person is suffering, you must ask them. But never ask someone this question, ask them to open up to you, and then leave satisfied that your questions have now been answered. I pray to God that I never do something of the sort, and even more that I have not already done so. If I have I pray for forgiveness and a chance for repentance. Because the reality is sharing pain and suffering is one of the most intimate things you can do with someone. To abandon them afterwards is not only heart-wrenching but devastating.

I, for one, am tired of being picked and pried at only to have the one investigating leave satisfied that they got what they needed out of the experience, but leaving me behind the wreckage. 

The thing is it all starts when you are young. You're two years old and you shove something into a tiny little box. 

It's nothing big and it's not your fault, but you know it was not right. You know it should not be known by anyone else, or opened up to the ears of others. So you store it away in this tiny little box. Hoping it will never get out again. Then next thing you know you are adding more little boxes.

Then bigger boxes. 

 Then even more bigger boxes.

Until the next thing you know you have a huge storage container out in the middle of the woods with a beaten path leading to it because of how many times you have had to drop something off. 

You are the only one who possess the key to the padlock on the front door. There is only one way to it, and you are the only one who knows the way. Some have asked how to get there, and you trusted them. So you slowly began to guide them there. Answering each question carefully and with caution. Letting them see a few boxes that you have left out along the way. Until eventually you have taken them to the storage unit. They convince you to unlock it. You go inside, and like the families of those on that T.V. show about hoarders, they begin to rummage through your boxes of locked away things like they are useless knickknacks that you have been collecting for the fun of it. They throw everything around. Everything you have worked so hard to keep compact and orderly has now became carelessly thrown in any direction. No care as to where it lands, or the damage being done along the way. You are not very proud of the boxed up items, and most of them have done you great harm. But they are yours and despite the pain they brought you they helped make you who you are. But you're okay because they are right there with you. You are finally getting to share some of the things that you never actually knew you wanted to share. But then they find something that they were looking for, or they become disgusted by the filth that has collected over the years. They sincerely apologize for all the junk you have stored in there, and then they walk away leaving you alone to deal with it all.

You seen them later. In fact, you are most likely still good friends with them. But the storage unit has reverted back to where it was originally, hidden. They dance around it like it does not exist. Sometimes thinking that this is in your favor. They act like they have forgotten the way to it. You might even be able to recognize the sincere effort they are making to cause you no harm. But the effort is futile because the act of faking ignorance itself is causing more harm. Because they left you alone with all the junk, no longer confined, but spread out everywhere and only you are there to try and piece it back together. But you can't. You never wrote out a floor plan to your pain. You don't know what goes in which box. So you give up. Walk away. Try to forget about it. But it's there. More messy now then it has ever been. Some of the residue might even be out and about lingering on the person who helped you open the unit up in the first place. 

You go back to the unit because you have more stuff to drop off, but everything is so disorderly you cannot find a perfect place for this new pain. So you throw it in with the rest of the mess. And as much as you wish it wouldn't the mess becomes a problem, and makes it more and more difficult to contain. It almost renders the storage unit useless. It almost breaks down the walls. All of the damage is almost leaking out and polluting the town near by. And it tears you apart, and continues to eat away. But you remain silent because the last time you spoke about it lead you here. And the cycle continues. 

See this is the danger behind leaving people when they need you most. Behind selfishly asking people about their pain and suffering. It is not wrong to wonder why someone is suffering. In fact, I would encourage you to have that discussion if you are ever brought to that point. I have always believed that people should not perish because we are too cowardly to simply ask what is wrong and how we can help. But the issue is you cannot just leave it at that. You cannot just leave them hanging with no idea how to pick up the pieces that you have now scattered in front of them. It does not have to be the conversational piece of every outing. But at least remind them every now and then that you are still there and available to talk if needed. If it lasts a few hours, then so be it. In my opinion a few hours "wasted" in allowing someone to share a little of themselves with you is one of the most important things you will ever do in your lifetime. 

I leave you with this. We all suffer, and our suffering is caused by many things. There is no measurement or scale. What some consider a one on the pain level scale, others consider a ten. And that is okay. We can't box people up, slap on a label, and call it a day. When it comes down to it we have to care. We have to care why they are in pain. Then we have to care more about helping them through it. Then we have to care enough to not leave them, but rather to continue with them on the journey because that what life is all about. God created us to be creatures of community. This does not mean that you have to go out and befriend everyone in sight. God created us in a way that communicates with certain other people. Just because you are the type of person who only has a few friends does not mean that you have failed. It just might be that those few people need you the most. I guess simply put, there is already enough pain in this world that we should not add to it by carelessly rummaging through each other's lives like a bull in a China shop hoping that they'll pick up the pieces, or time will heal it. Our community has become one where canceling plans on a whim for the next one that we find that is "better", and looking out for ourselves and only ourselves is not only mundane but encouraged. But no matter how much we like to pretend otherwise we live on a populated Earth, not on a planet of isolation. So this method of "you do your thing, I'll do mine, and everything will be chill" can only go so far. Eventually our bubbles are going to bump into each, and we are going to see each other's damage that has occurred along way but has been suppressed by many pain killers, whether it be in pill form or not. As a result we will be affected. You have to decide... Will you keep on walking, digging through people's damage just to find what you were looking for and leave, or will you stop, recognize the people around you, and help them pick up the pieces that have been shattered by the carelessness of others before you? Even more will you have the courage to help others pick up the pieces that have been shattered by your own hands?

I Am the Steadfast Light

Tonight I was sitting at my desk pondering about the many things that come before me. I tried to distract my mind by surfing the internet, but each motion took forever. Like, dial-up connection kind of  forever. Each click taking minutes to load. I know, it was tragic. I grew frustrated, and I began to hear God calling me to Him. Telling me to stop hiding. I put my head down and began to cry out to God asking Him for direction. That is when He told me to look up at the window in front of me. So I did. He said, "Look at me." Not audibly, but in the way He speaks that is incredibly difficult to describe. So I searched for Him, and I could not see where He was. "Don't you get it, Brooke? You can't find me because you're looking in all the wrong places. I'm everywhere. I am the steadfast light you see in the distance. I am the clock tower in front of you. I am the head lights flashing through your window. I am the street. I am everything." That did not give me the answer I was looking for. But it brought me closer to Him. Which is all I truly want. To be closer to Him. And that's just it. He really is all those things. The steadfast light in the distance, always leading me to the way, never failing. The clock tower in front of me, always keeping things on His time. The headlights showing the way when things get dark. The street attempting to keep you on the way you are going. He is everything. He is all I will ever need. The truth is I am not much closer to the answer I was seeking, but I am closer to Him, and that is all that matters. 

Struggling

Lately, I have been really struggling with my relationship with God. Do not get me wrong, I still believe in Him, and I long for Him. The thing I have been struggling with is hearing Him, and feeling His presence. I have not done either for a long time. This is something hard to go through. Especially, when you are a religion major.

I am constantly in the school of religion surrounded by people who seem to be so firm in their faith. I have professor after professor question my faith, and my relationship with God. I am constantly convicted. I constantly question if ministry is for me. How can I lead people when my faith goes under trials? How will they believe me when my belief is shaken? It was so hard to build my faith in an environment where it felt like everyone else had already arrived. And now it is even harder to maintain my faith in a place where it feels like no one else ever wavers. 

But I have come to many realizations. First and foremost, no one has arrived and everyone has wavered. Second, people tend to believe you more when you are honest about your own disbelief. Because here is the truth, as I have stated before, no one has arrived and everyone has wavered. To pretend otherwise would just cause those whom you lead to call your bluff and stop trusting you. So the best decision would not be to pretend like you have it all together, but to be vulnerable and comfortable enough to say that you do not. 

Lately, I have been feeling God pull me back. And this journey back, the sweetness and blissful joy, has made all the struggle completely worth it. 

Mostly, God has spoken to me through the works of others. 

First, the story in the 9th chapter of Mark. A man comes to Jesus asking him to heal his son. The man turned to Jesus and said, "Help my unbelief." Since reading that it has become a prayer over my life. Asking God constantly to help my unbelief. 

Second, the song "Times" by Tenth Avenue North. 

I know I need You

I need to love You

I'd love to see You but it's been so long 

I long to feel You

I feel this need for You

I need to hear You

Is that so wrong

Oh oh, oh oh, oh oh 

Oh oh, oh oh, oh oh 

Now You pull me near You

When we're close I fear You

Still I'm afraid to tell you all that I've done 

Are You done forgiving

Or can You look past my pretending, Lord

I'm so tired of defending what I've become

What have I become

Oh oh, oh oh, oh oh 

Oh oh, oh oh, oh oh 

Oh oh, oh oh, oh oh 

Oh oh, oh oh, oh oh 

Oh oh, oh oh, oh oh 

I hear You say

My love is over

It's underneath

It's inside

It's in between 

The times that you doubt me

When you can't feel

The times that you question

Is this for real 

The times you're broken

The times that you mend

The times you hate me

And the times that you bend 

Well my love is over

It's underneath

It's inside

It's in between 

The times that you're healing

And when your heart breaks

The times that you feel like you've fallen from grace 

The times you're hurting

The times that you heal

The times you go hungry and are tempted to steal 

In times of confusion

In chaos and pain

I'm there in your sorrow under the weight of your shame 

I'm there through your heart-ache

I'm there in the storm

My love I will keep you by my power alone 

I don't care where you've fallen or where you have been

I'll never forsake you

My love never ends

It never ends, mmmm

Oh oh, oh oh, oh oh

Oh oh, oh oh, oh oh

This song is all about a man speaking to God in his disbelief. And the second half of the song is God's response. 

The third is the song "Say Something" by A Great Big World.

Say something, I'm giving up on you

I'll be the one, if you want me to

Anywhere I would've followed you

Say something, I'm giving up on you

And I am feeling so small

It was over my head

I know nothing at all

And I will stumble and fall

I'm still learning to love

Just starting to crawl

Say something, I'm giving up on you

I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you

Anywhere I would've followed you

Say something, I'm giving up on you

And I will swallow my pride

You're the one that I love

And I'm saying goodbye 

Say something, I'm giving up on you

And I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you

And anywhere I would've followed you

(Oh-oh-oh-oh) 

Say something, I'm giving up on you

Say something, I'm giving up on you

Say something

Every time I hear this song I see one thing. I see an image of a man all alone. He is standing in a dark room. The room has no visible doors. No way out. He begins to scream to God, "Say something I'm giving up on you!" God responds, "I'll be the one if you want me to." And so on. God is screaming out to the man desperately grasping at him to hear His voice. But the man will not open his ears. At the end of the song I imagine the man collapsing, finally giving himself over to God, and finally he hears. Finally he runs into the arms of the Lord. 

Lastly, is the song "Christ Be With Me" by the The Brilliance.

Christ be with me, Christ before me

Christ behind me, Christ within me

Christ below me, Christ above me

At my right had, At my left hand

As I lie down, As I rise up

As I stumble, As I fall down

Christ as I stand

Christ in the heart of everyone who thinks of me

Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me

Christ is every eye that sees me

Christ in every ear that hears me.

Amen 

Amen

This is my prayer for my entire life. Whether or not my faith is wavering. Whether or not I am on the mountain or in the valley, this is my prayer for my entire life. 

There's Something About Snora

Today I was scrolling through my Facebook newsfeed, trying not to do all of the work on my plate and distract myself from the dreary weather outside, when something caught my eye. It was a video one of my residents had posted the night before. She could not sleep, and so she decided to post a video of what she felt God had put on her heart. The video was of a spoken word she was in the process of writing.

As I watched the video I began to think back on my previous year, and something came to my mind. An unfiltered thought that may or may not be true. Most of the female students I have come to know on campus who have done the most creative and inspiring things have come from Snora, or another dorm like it on the ped mall. 

It seems to me like these students have an idea or feel inspired by God, and then almost immediately act on it with a passion that I just did not feel or witness in my old dorm. My old dorm was great, and there were many students their who had wonderful ideas and did great things. But it was rare that I saw someone acting on those ideas. The students usually came up with an excuse or they were too busy.

It hit me. There's something about Snora. 

There's something about this group of mostly Freshmen girls (that's sounds like an oxymoron) who have come together in a building that feels like it's falling apart at its seams, and decided to make something great. There is a sense of inspiration within this building that only comes from being forced to live in such close quarters, and walk, practically, naked down the long halls as people pass by. There's a passion, and excitement found within these new students that I rarely find in students who have reached the end of their collegiate career. A passion that inspires to not only think more creatively, but to act on those thoughts. To think of a great idea, and put it to work, not caring about whether the product will be fantastic or even accepted positively. Because I am beginning to realize that it is less about how it is received, and more about putting yourself out there. It is more about taking the risk to do something that you really want to do and feel passionate about, and less about the outcome. 

People all over campus talk badly about this dorm in which I live in. I used to be one of those people. And for that I want to apologize. Specifically, if you are reading this, Rebekah, I want to apologize to you for talking bad about Nora when you lived here. My ignorance took hold of me, and blinded my eyes from being able to see the beauty within this building. Yes. Some of the things people say are true. The building creeks and sinks with every step you take. The walls are paper thin, making every conversation perfectly clear, three rooms down. Rancid odors lurk through the hallways, catching you when you least expect it. The bathrooms are, at times, unsightly. The showers flood, and constantly make you fear for your life every time to take the sharp razor anywhere near your leg, wondering how many times you will slip up this time. The rooms come in all shapes and sizes. You may luck out and hit the mansion room on third floor south, or you may end up with the closet. But despite all of this, there is nothing in this world like the community you experience. 

The community hits sharply at first. Especially when you are studying, but everyone else on your hall is singing some classic song on the highest level their lungs will allow. But eventually, when you allow yourself to sit back and look closely, you see one of the most beautiful things you will ever encounter. A group of people, just like you. Not knowing where the next day will take them. Not knowing how they survived the last finals week, or the next; sometimes blacking out an entire month's work of work because it is the only way they know how to stay sane. People suffering just as you suffer. And yet they are putting forth their greatest efforts to make something out of nothing. To give hope where it sometimes seems all hope is lost. To not only see that hand that is flailing desperately over the ledge looking for anything to help pull them back up, but reaching down, grabbing that hand, and pulling the person back onto their feet. These are the kinds of girls I live in community with everyday. The kind  that genuinely care. The kind that intentionally build relationships. The kind that knows it is awkward at times, but are completely willing to bath in that awkwardness. The kind that pray together when the tragedy strikes. The kind that laugh together when things are great. The kind that rejoices together, and mourns together. The kind that sees this world we live in, a world lost in the despair, and speaks life, truth, happiness, and hope. I would not trade this for anything. 

There's something about Snora, and that is something I want to be apart of.

Love Does Wrong?

Love does, right? But if loves does, can love do wrong? Because lately, despite my greatest efforts, my action of which I would call love has seemed to have caused harm. The reactions to my actions have lead me to believe no other conclusion than that my love has done wrong. To me it sounds like a contradiction because I have always believed that as long as one loves, and wholeheartedly displays that love, than one does not do wrong. But, though my intentions are good, my intentions fail and the damage of my actions prevail. These musings of thought have no conclusion, and I wonder, as you must, "Why do I feel the need to write this for the public to see if I have no conclusion?" My answer is that maybe, just maybe, these musings will benefit another. Maybe someone will find comfort in the knowledge that their thoughts, like mine, are not in solitude but in community with my thoughts. And so I leave you with this.

Unfortunately, it is not your intentions that matter. It is your actions. What are your actions? Are they love? Are they hate? Are they spontaneous? Or are they well thought out? Are they selfish? Are they humble? And when you find yourself and I alike to the point to where your loving actions still create damage, know that through grace, mercy, and the willingness to find healing in both I believe that there can be restoration. All you have to do is try. All you have to do is be humble enough to apologize. I mean honestly apologize, and receive the forgiveness. Because frankly, the opposite is just not worth the comfort. Especially if it causes one to perish.

Heartbreak

God has been opening my heart to so many new hurts that someone can go through these past few months. Though I wish I wasn't learning about them in the ways I am, I am grateful for God showing me a little more of His heart. For breaking my heart for what breaks His. For showing me a little more of His ways. For bringing to my attention the wrongs of this world, and for burning a passion unlike any other I had before. Yeah, I wish I wasn't discovering these hurts the way that I am, but would I ever discover them any other way? God thank You for being the everlasting, all-knowing, loving God that You are. Thank You for walking this journey with me. My heart breaks, but I know that I have the almighty God to rest upon when it does.

God walk with those that have revealed to me their heartbreaks, their struggles, their withered hands. Heal them. Love them. Help me to help them. God wrap them in Your arms. Show them that they are not alone. Father, Jesus, and Holy Spirit my heart breaks for them, and I wish I could take all of their pain, but I know that I cannot. And so I will rest my faith in You. Knowing that You have them in Your arms. Knowing that You can take it all away. Thank you God. Amen.