I also, apparently, have an extremely hard time being alone with my thoughts.
Blogging makes me uncomfortable.
It really really does.
Which is exactly why I know I need to do it.
Why on earth am I so afraid of my own heart and the honesty it contains?
Why am I so inclined to do anything and everything but scrape past the surface into the deeper realms of my motivations and emotions?
What is it in me that hungers so much for distraction?
I'm attempting to write this piece that I don't even really feel like I'm qualified to write.
Why?
Because the qualifications involve caring.
And for a while now, I have not cared about much of anything except for me.
I definitely made it look like I did, quoting exactly all of the things that I knew I needed to say.
I am tired of always going in these circles.
I am tired of running away from my heart.
I was born to set captives free.
Liberty was purposed to be on my tongue to proclaim.
And I know "why" in the sense of the standard answer to give to any questions...
but I just don't really know why it moves me so.
(And why I seem to be able to forget it so quickly.)
But why it tugs at my heart so distinctly when I do remember it even for a moment.
Why my tears catch me by such surprise when I speak of those forgotten ones I adore.
And even why I adore them in the first place.
The textbook answer is "because He loves them too" and I suppose that's true... but there has to be more to it than that. Or at least it has to be deeper than that sentence alone and what it has become.
Even now, I sit in the middle of a comfortable city inside of a comfortable existence. Drinking a coffee. Listening to an ipod. Typing away on a computer. None of which I really need, among many other things.
So what right do I really have to write this?
Because I can.
Because I have the computer and the words (somewhere) and the capabilities and the motivation (somewhere) and the ability to speak for those who cannot speak for themselves.
I am supposed to be their voice.
What has shaped the way I think about change?
Choosing to think about it in the first place.
It fucking hurts and it's really hard.
To choose to go into those places of darkness that I have only touched in order to tell about the ones that are held hostage there.
But if I do not go... who will?
If we do not go... who will?
What has shaped the way I think about change?
The way I view my own efforts.
The fact that the effort itself brings the Kingdom of God whether it looks like it or I realize it or I see its effects or not.
What has shaped the way I think about change?
Realizing that what I desire is not so much answers, but just the freedom to be able to ask the questions.
The freedom to scream at and cry to the Creator and know that He not only listens... but joins me in my anger.
What has shaped the way I think about change?
Understanding the concept of working for what I desire to see while in my waiting for it to be fulfilled.
What has shaped the way I think about change?
Their hands in mine.
Dancing with them. Laughing with them. Loving them even when I didn't feel like it.
Attempting to look into their future and hating the only things that I could see.
Living within those feelings of potential mixed with hopelessness; of shaky promise- a walking on eggshells of sorts. Afraid to get too attached to or too excited over dreams or visions of restoration because the reality was too harsh and too clear.
What has shaped the way I think about change?
Refusing to continue to pass the blame- whether onto God or other human beings.
In the same words that I have said before, "we cry and cry and cry for Him to come to the oppressed and set the captives free. We call to Him to come down and meet us and them in our darkness. But the part we seem to have missed is the part where we agree to work for it... in our waiting."
We take responsibility for them. We agree to care for them. We decide to speak for them.
We choose to suffer with them. We choose to suffer for them.
What has shaped the way I think about change?
The straight, unfiltered, untampered, difficult words of Jesus himself and not what I have always thought they were. Not my preconceived ideas. Not my childhood church's rhetoric. Not the politics of any man.
Just Him. And His heart. And how loudly it speaks to mine.
I care for them because He cares for them and I know He is who He says He is.
I know that I know that I know that His words must be obeyed... not out of any guilt or obligation. But rather because they contain life. They give freedom. Because they are the only way for me to live. Because through them alone can I make sense of myself. Because they are my only hope and the only hope I have to offer the hopeless. Because they have been tested and have come forth as true. Because they resonate deep within my spirit as that binding tie that of all humanity is searching for. Because they settle my soul and welcome me home. Because they pursue me gently when I run away. Because they inspire me passionately when I am stagnant. Because they make me feel. Because they make me sincere. Because they make me feel alive.
What has shaped the way I think about change?
The ability to be honest with myself and say that what I truly want, I often don't. That what I think I know, I never do. And that what I need to do scares me shit out of me.
What has shaped the way I think about change?
Knowing that in order to bring the healing that I desire to bring, I first have to let myself be healed.
Lives are on the line.
The longer I sit here, unmoved, the longer they wait.
And wait.
And wait.
And the louder He asks.
And asks.
And asks.
Until I decide to start listening.
Hey.
I'm listening.
I mean it this time.
I'm listening.
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