The One Without Words

Well, between the recent holiday and other world events, writing has been hard lately.  I have a tough time knowing where to even begin, but as always, I’ll give it my best.

My family is spectacular in all of their messy, lovely glory.  Luna is a delight.  The weather doesn’t suck yet.  My life, on all accounts, is going swimmingly.  And yet, I feel this tug, this unsettledness that makes me squirm when I try to put words to it.  With so much news floating through the channels about Ferguson, ISIS, Ebola, I’m having a difficult time focusing solely on my little life here.  There’s an entire world outside of this cozy existence I’ve built, and it’s hurting.  Whether I accept or even acknowledge the stereotype of being a white woman, I am one, and I daily take advantage of the opportunities it allows me.  I have never been marginalized by the color of my skin or my economic standing.  I have seen true suffering in small glimpses, but it has never knocked on my front door.  Because my knowledge and experience is so limited, I often fall silent when it comes to these issues, but that’s wrong.  I have a voice, and so I’ll use it to say this:

The loss of a life is a thing to be mourned.

Entire populations are being disparaged and are hurting.

Hunger and slavery exist in this world and in my own town.

The world we live in is broken and is not as it should be.

But on this day and in this season, we are not without hope.  We have a Father who is renewing our very hearts and redeeming the world, and so we march on and continue in hope.

Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.

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