I am from

I am from curiosity.
From dissatisfaction in "other"
From smoke rings and quinine tablets.
From casual profanities offered
to speak words no one could seem to articulate.
I am from cool waters and dark toes
intermingling with pale white ones.
Unanswerable questions and practical optimism.
From friendship despite
thick walls generations old
between and around us.

I am from expectation
Self-imposed.
From feelings of needing to live up to
Yet desperately aching for a course distinctly my own.
From broken leaders and lost potential
And from hungry eyes asking
if there could ever be more.
I am searching
wanting to find that answer.

whimsy

I am bad at New Year’s resolutions. I think I wasted several years feeling incredibly guilty over not exercising enough, or not spending enough time doing “spiritual” things that were basically just legalism anyway (at least for me). So the last few years I have decided to pick a word, and dwell on it for a year. To think about how I can have more of it in my life, how it affects the way I behave and treat people, and how it can change me for the better. The word I picked for this year is whimsy. This at first felt like an odd choice (I mean, I am still not even totally sure what it means) but I am getting more excited about it. While working at International Justice Mission a few years back, I noticed how the people in leadership were constantly confronted by real and unimaginable evil, and yet seemed to be able to maintain a sense of whimsy—humor and lightness in the midst of massive tragedy. They took their work seriously, but also led balanced lives with healthy families. I think I often feel bogged down by the problems I read about and see around the world, and then immobilized and uninspired and resentful of my own comfort in the States, especially since I have experienced (however small) what poverty looks like elsewhere. Choosing whimsy will mean constantly checking my attitude, and living in the tension of wanting to be in other places experiencing more difficult things while knowing I need to be here where I am, for now. Choosing whimsy means letting go of trying to control every step I take, and choosing to trust that I will go different places when the time is right; and remembering I don’t always get to name when that time is.

This is going to be hard.

standing still

I am currently finishing up a book called “The Poisonwood Bible” about a family of missionaries in The Congo in the 1960’s. The father figure is fairly horrible in the book. In my mind at least he is pretty much everything that is wrong with stereotypical Christian missionaries: completely culturally insensitive, unwilling to listen to those around him, and a horrible father and husband. The mother character is a pushover and lives a rather horrible life, but then has a moment of bravery and leaves her husband when her youngest daughter dies. She has a moment (sort of her spiritual climax) that really struck me. She says: “I finally moved, and he stood still. His kind will always lose in the end. I know this, and now I know why. Whether it’s wife or nation they occupy, their mistake is always the same: they stand still, and their stake moves underneath them.” She goes on to say that “to live is to be marked. To live is to change and acquire the words of a story, because that is the only celebration we mortals can actually know. In perfect stillness, frankly, I’ve only found sorrow.”

I have thought a bit about this the last few days, and I think the mother character is on to something. Standing still in life seems to make you irrelevant and ridiculous very quickly. I feel like I am barely standing in the middle of a torrent of movement in my own life, this season seems filled to the brim with change and the unknown and questions about purpose for myself and my friends. Sometimes I wish I could just stand still and have my life “how it used to be.”

But I can’t.

And when I am truly honest with myself, I don’t want to. I want to engage the inundation of ideas my friends and I are confronted with on a daily basis. I want to bravely venture ahead, moving, into a story that becomes distinctly my own. And I want to say that I was always moving. Not fleeing from something, or hiding in busyness, but engaging in the world around me and being willing to change. That is my hope today for my friends and I of different faiths: that we maintain our vibrant uniqueness that makes us each who we are, but that we risk failure and embarrassment to have relationships with each other regardless of the fallout. I think the only other choice is to become like the father character in the book, preaching to an empty church, because no one thinks you have anything to say.

Am I right? Or am I crazy?

choosing fear?

Ramadan began this week. A year ago I was in London getting a crash course in religious pluralism and the basic tenets of all the major religions with 29 other religious young people from around the world, as well as gearing up to fast for Ramadan alongside my new Muslim friends. I can’t believe that was a year ago. I am so grateful I decided to fast last year. It was one of the most powerful times of my life for learning and growth spiritually. It hurts me when Christian leaders come out with statements saying Christians fasting alongside Muslims is pointless and should only be done if the goal is conversion. Well, my goal was friendship and learning and opening myself up to a religious community that embraced me when they didn’t have to, with wide open arms, just as I was. I will be forever grateful to my dear Muslim friends who fasted alongside me every day, and encouraged me to figure out the value of fasting within my own tradition. I did (see Isaiah 58). So, Ramadan Mubarak to all my friends fasting this year, I hope you feel spiritually enriched and encouraged in the next 30 days, and that you experience God in a whole new way. I respect you all so much, and am cheering you on from the sidelines.

And I have been thinking a lot about the Cordoba House controversy. If you have not seen Jon Stewart’s reflections on it from The Daily Show when he interviewed Ambassador Akbar Ahmed, it is worth 7 minutes of your time. Watch it here. It seems we are at a very important moment in America. Particularly for those of us who identify as people who love and follow Jesus, these could be some of our finest hours. We are presented with a chance to demonstrate that we are not afraid, that in fact we can embrace difference, and that we can welcome people who identify as Muslim to practice freely their religion as they choose. We can show we can love them without ulterior motives, and engage in dialogue with these people about how we can work together across faith lines to better the American community around us that we all care about. We need to stop seeing them as “other,” and instead simply extend our hands in friendship. We need to understand each other as American citizens, and not isolate the Muslim community. I think Christians, myself included, often see things we don’t understand and instinctively fear and react poorly. Well, here is our chance to write a different chapter, one that shows a different Christianity. This Christianity is one that unashamedly loves and follows Jesus, but that reflects this through tolerance and openness to those who see the world differently, and is not afraid of words like “other” and “Islam.” Come on people, I don’t mean to be cliché, but don’t you think that is what Jesus would have done? I do. And that is how I am attempting to live.

Unafraid.

Atheists and Mosques

I have a friend named Chris who writes a fantastic blog called Nonprophet Status. He self-identifies as a queer secular person working in an interfaith context to unite religious and non-religious communities together around issues affecting humanity. As someone who openly doesn’t believe in God, Chris still discusses frequently how he sees and respects the value religion has for billions of people. Even though he does not agree with them (or me, I guess I could say), he doesn’t consider himself to be “more evolved;” just someone who has chosen something different. We were on a radio interview together a few months back, and I flinched when the DJ identified me as an evangelical Christian. Chris asked me why, and I explained that the evangelical Christian community is so often known for what they are against, and I want to talk about things I am, and I think Jesus would be, for instead of against. He told me that he thinks that is even more of a reason to identify myself as a Christian who follows the teachings of Jesus. He talked about how his voice is needed in the atheist community—the voice that says “I am not anti-religion, and I think we can work together instead of throwing rocks at each other.” In the same way, voices like mine (and my Jewish friend Rebecca’s and my Muslim friend Nadeem’s) are needed within religious communities to challenge the status quo, build relationships with people who disagree with us, and just generally represent a different version of faith in action. A version that unashamedly believes what they are following is true, but values things like love, tolerance, and service, and uses religion as a bridge to work with all sorts of people, not a wall to keep people out.

Also, do any of you have feedback on what is happening with the mosque at Ground Zero? On Eboo Patel's Washington Post blog yesterday, an evangelical pastor from Texas was the guest writer and he shared his thoughts about it. I like when the media portrays stories like his that reflect a positive view of the religious. Even if you don't agree, it is encouraging for me to hear someone who is a conservative Christian leader, unashamed and open about his faith, still discussing the value of religious freedom for everyone; and not feeling threatened by Muslims. I hope to see more stories like that in the weeks and months to come. You can find the article I am referring to here.

15 seconds

My year as a Faiths Act Fellow officially comes to a close on Monday. It has, without a doubt, been the most formational year of my life. We were all chatting with Eboo Patel earlier this week at our alumni launch, and he asked us at what point during this year did we realize we had become interfaith leaders. I shared how, for me, it was the moment I realized I had a story. And that story is one that is compelling, and worth sharing. I can recount times in the Fall sitting down with people over coffee who had never heard of interfaith work before—in fact were quite hostile to the idea—and by the time our coffee cups were empty they were asking when our next event was so they could attend. That is a testament to the power of Rebecca and I embodying what you are passionate about (or trying hard to do so), and knowing the reasons why you are doing something. I had the privilege of speaking to Tony Blair on skype at our closing dinner as Fellows on Wednesday night, and I shared that with him. I basically said, “Here I am, an evangelical Christian who had never even heard of interfaith work a year ago, and I now consider myself an interfaith leader, and these ideas about collaborating across religious lines have been woven into the basic fabric of who I am.” He kind of sat back on camera in his hotel room and told me that what I said was very inspiring and encouraging to hear. He said he is often meeting with people trying to tackle some of the world's toughest problems, and sometimes he wonders if it is even possible. But then he thinks about young people like all of us, and remembers that his ideas aren't impossible. He was inspired and encouraged by what he has heard from us. That is something else I have learned. I am part of a much larger movement, spanning over 70 countries. People from all walks of life dedicated to their perspective beliefs, but willing to work with others to better the world. This is not some world peace pipe dream from the mouth of a ditzy beauty contestant. It is leaders of the world coming together, and grassroots activism showing the innovative next chapter in religious participation and dialogue; and I have been able to be a small part of it the last eleven months. I am unable to walk away the same.

And did I mention the people I got to do this journey with? The 29 other young people from the US, UK, and Canada who are wise beyond their years, and incredible leaders in every sense of the word? We like to jokingly refer to ourselves as “malaria ass-kickers.” The final numbers are still coming out, but it looks like we raised around $140,000 though our networks. This is 14,000 bed nets, or 3000 families saved. And that is before Tony Blair matches it. Our supervisors estimate 40,000 people had personal discussions with us during the year about our work, and there were 10,000 event attendees. All this to say, I have worked with some INCREDIBLE young people this year, who have inspired me daily with their faith, passion, and ability to fulfill our crazy vision. And if I have learned anything, it is that we were not the first to step into this work of interfaith cooperation and malaria eradication. There are huge shoulders we stand on, and I am sure incredible people will come after us to continue the fight. And we won’t be stopping either. We are alums of this program heading off to pursue all sorts of various epic things, but I know we will continue to raise awareness and fight to eradicate deaths from malaria. For me, part of being a leader means that I need to be committed to caring about issues that might not affect me personally where I live, and that impact people who don’t always look or act like me.

I heard this week from another Fellow that the UN is considering changing the statistic from, “Every 30 seconds a child in Sub-Saharan Africa dies from malaria” to “Every 45 seconds a child in Sub-Saharan Africa dies from malaria.” Never in my life, did I ever think that 15 seconds would mean so much to me. Children are still dying from malaria. All the time, in fact. And it’s completely preventable. But if because of all the work that has gone on in the past 5 years, the international community is making a dent, I think I am entitled to sit back for a second and feel satisfied that I was a part of something that impacted people’s lives for the better. Then I will get back to work.

This is just the beginning. My generation is just getting started. I know the other Faiths Act Fellows would agree with me.

God speaks

God speaks to each of us as he makes us,
then walks with us silently out of the night.

These are the words we dimly hear:

You, sent out beyond your recall
go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.

Flare up like a flame
and make big shadows I can move in.

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don't let yourself lose me.

Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.

Give me your hand.

-Rilke



This is fitting for me right now. I don't think I can explain it any more than that. The poem speaks for itself. At least to me. Hopefully it speaks to you too.