Somewhere

And you, son of man, do not be afraid of them or their words. 

Do not be afraid, though briers and thorns are all around you and you live among scorpions. 

Do not be afraid of what they say or be terrified by them, though they are a rebellious people. 

You must speak my words to them, whether they listen or fail to listen, for they are rebellious. 

But you, son of man, listen to what I say to you.

Ezekiel 2:6-8

Somewhere there is a family awaiting the good news of a birth.
Somewhere there is a family mourning the loss of a child.
     Or a mother, father, grandparent
Somewhere two little girls are pinkie-swearing to be best friends forever.
Somewhere there is a little girl, or little boy, being held for the highest bidder.
Somewhere a hymn is raised.
Somewhere a bible is ripped apart and thrown away.
Somewhere, hands are held, all colors, all sizes, all textures, held in sacred prayer.
Somewhere, a man is shaking, from fear, from exhaustion, from anxiety,
     because he's seen too much, done too much, been too much.
     Too much.
Somewhere a lullaby soothes and a mother rocks, and a baby sleeps.
Somewhere a gun is loaded.
Somewhere a church service, a bible study, a worship team meets.
Somewhere worlds collide.

Oh God, help us find common ground. Help us listen. Somewhere.

Linking with 5-Minute Friday

Across the River

          You are my sheep, the sheep of my pasture, and I am your God, 

declares the Sovereign LORD. 

 Ezekiel 34:31 (NIV)

A village lay alongside a wide, winding river.  It was an ancient village, and had seen many people come.  It had seen many people go.  Farmers, builders, artisans, speech-makers, and educators.  Growing and shrinking, growing and shrinking, the village adjusted to the winds of change and the sands of time.  It remained at peace and it prospered.

Across the wide, winding river was another village.  Also ancient.  A sister-village, similar in all respects except one.  This village was no longer at peace.  This village no longer prospered.  For whatever reason, for whatever vagary of fortune, this village had become a war zone of poverty and violence.

As a shepherd looks after his scattered flock when he is with them, so will I look after my sheep. 

 I will rescue them from all the places where they were scattered on a day of clouds and darkness.

Ezekiel 34:12 (NIV)

The children were the first to suffer.  Bellies aching from hunger, souls sickened by fear, they stopped singing.  They stopped dancing.  They stopped feeling.  Helplessness led to hopelessness; the darkness of the village was a looming, endless thundercloud of sorrow and despair.

I will bring them out from the nations and gather them from the countries, 

and I will bring them into their own land. 

I will pasture them on the mountains of Israel, 

in the ravines and in all the settlements in the land.

Ezekiel 34:13 (NIV)

There were only two ways out of the village of tribulation; death was the easier. The harder way, the longer way, the nearly impossible way, was to cross the river. Cross the river to the promised land, the land of milk and honey. Freedom land.

They tried.  Wave upon wave of mothers and children tried.  They strapped on sandals, sandals of peace, and they walked, daring to hope for a better life, a better way.  They traded helpless for courage, and hopeless for faith, and they walked.

Yet the darkness followed.  Loss of life and innocence, like twin plagues, accompanied the hapless pilgrims on their journey.  Hunger was a constant companion.  But the travelers helped each other through the difficulties and the many who made it, gathered at the river's edge.  Cross the river to the promised land, the land of milk and honey.  Freedom land.  These were the thoughts that built the rafts; these were the images that fueled the boats.  Dreams of a better life.

I will make a covenant of peace with them and rid the land of savage beasts 

so that they may live in the wilderness and sleep in the forests in safety.  

I will make them and the places surrounding my hill a blessing. 

I will send down showers in season; there will be showers of blessing. 

The trees will yield their fruit and the ground will yield its crops; 

the people will be secure in their land. They will know that I am the LORD, 

when I break the bars of their yoke and rescue them from the hands of those who enslaved them. 

They will no longer be plundered by the nations, nor will wild animals devour them. 

They will live in safety, and no one will make them afraid. 

I will provide for them a land renowned for its crops, 

and they will no longer be victims of famine in the land 

or bear the scorn of the nations. 

Then they will know that I, the LORD their God, am with them 

and that they, the Israelites, are my people, declares the Sovereign LORD. 

Ezekiel 34:25-30 (NIV)

Those who lived to finish the journey rejoiced. Welcomed by the sister-village on the other side, they began to heal. The children grew, they shared in song and dance, the valley through which they had come. And the village adjusted to the winds of change and the sands of time. It remained at peace and it prospered.

Heavenly Father, Creator of all things, 

Heal us so that we can grow in compassion and grace, so that we can look beyond ourselves and our politics and give help to the helpless and hope to the hopeless.  Help us to spread your love and your peace beyond our own small horizons.  Help us to look across the river.  

Today I'm linking with Jennifer, and Beth.

NOTE:  The current situation of the un-documented immigration of children across our southern border is overwhelming and heartbreaking.  I just couldn't finish this story using today's headlines.  I can't imagine that sending these children and families back to the violence and poverty of their home is the right thing to do.  I understand taxes and paying for those who cross our borders; I understand working hard for my money... but I keep coming back to Jesus, time after time, saying 'give'.  He didn't say 'give if you want to'; he didn't say 'give as long as it doesn't disrupt your life', he said "For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me."  To understand more about the situation, you can read here and here.  In her blog Lisa Notes, Lisa informs readers about a way to help (without the political...).  

Seven Thousand, Seven Hundred Twenty-One Words

And the name of the city from that time on will be: 

THE LORD IS THERE.

Ezekiel 48:35

It's been 37 years since I went to Brazil as an exchange student.  More than a lifetime to some, a mere breath of time to others.  To me, it feels like both.  Memories, like dusty old postcards, sit on a bookshelf in my library of life.  They are faded and worn, dim reflections of friendships and events, people and places.  A year of change.  A year of growth.  A year of unexpected difficulty - adjusting to language, culture, and re-establishing identity.

I kept a journal.  I took pictures - slides that also faded - like my memories.  More than anything, I remember the feelings... I remember feeling lost, like floating unanchored in a shifting ocean - over my head, unsure of waves and tides.  I remember asserting myself in ways that alienated me from the people were trying to welcome me into their home and family.  I remember not fitting.  I remember thinking that it wasn't my fault - that I was not to blame.  Funny me.  I was wrong.  

Today, I look at my journal from that year and wonder.  Events are written out - people's names and places - food, clothes, details.  But the important things, the reasons, the explanations, the background and context, those things are missing.  Replaced by words like interesting, and different.  It's like taking that stack of postcards, faded and frayed, and tossing them into baskets labeled INTERESTING, and DIFFERENT - unreadable, pictures too far gone to see - only random details remain.

It's kind of understandable - my reliance on details years ago.  I was surrounded by so many new things - a myriad of the unfamiliar - starting with the very language - I didn't know what was important.  So I wrote down everything.  Every little thing.  Like not seeing the forest for the trees.  

Like reading Ezekiel's description of his temple dream.  Imagine being presented with a vision so complete that every minute aspect and feature was defined and measured.  From the tiniest detail, to the all-encompassing division of the kingdom of Israel - even to the presence of God filling the temple with His Holiness.  How could Ezekiel possible determine what was important - what to write - what to describe.  So he described it all.  Every little thing.

I wonder if he ever looked back, if he ever tried to find the thing - the one thing - the meaning of it all.  I wonder if he had baskets labeled interesting, or different.  I wish I could talk to this man with the sci-fi visions.  I think he wrote the forest - maybe he didn't even know.  He used 7721 words to describe this vision.  At the end, four words count the most.  Seven thousand, seven hundred twenty-one trees comes down to one forest - THE LORD IS THERE.  Always.  Period.

God, help us to see the forest for the trees. 

Help us to know your presence with us.  

Always.  Period.