**Since writing this, a friend brought up a really good point. She was saying how she doesn't like this shirt because the word Hoe is derogatory and offensive and no one would want to be referred to as such. I agree and I'm sorry if this post was offensive. So we added an "S" to Alan's shirt and it now reads "thugs & pimps & bros & shoes." Much better.**
Guys, I'm not super gangsta. Oh wait, you knew that? I see. Well, a lot times people assume all missionaries are gangsta. That's actually not true. No one thinks that. But what they might think is that missionaries know how to love people really well. I'd like to go ahead and unpack that myth for you.
I'm learning how to love others, even while they're in their darkest moment, but it's definitely not my strength. And by learning, I mean that if love were on a scale of 1-100, I'm at like a 7.5. I have a really, really long way to go. I want to run and go find someone else who is a lot kinder than me, a lot braver than me, to go and love people. Let me find someone to whom it comes naturally, because for me, it's hard work. It's so much easier to draw a line in the sand and stay on the safe side. It's easier just to shout "truth" at others, to form all my opinions about right and wrong, rather than walk across the line and be quiet with them and love them in their darkest moment.
But here's the problem: I love Jesus. It seriously is problematic, especially when I want to live a cozy, Pinterest-inspired life. Based on the fact that Jesus was homeless, I'm pretty sure he doesn't give a frick if my house is decorated well. Bummer. I love the way Jesus loved people! I want to give him a high-five for it and tell him how inspiring it is and then let other people try to love like He did. Because I know me. I know how impatient, selfish, and judgmental I am. And I know how much it hurts to love. How there are no guarantees--that just because I show someone love, they'll show me love in return or they'll make better choices. There's just no guarantee and that sucks.
A few weeks ago we threw another Block Party of Love, this time right in the middle of the redlight district. We were legit in the middle of the buying and selling of sex; in the middle of injustice. Our goal for that night was to share God's love with everyone--pimps, johns, prostitutes, and anyone else who happened to be on the street that night. We set up right in front of a super shady hotel, which was a hole-in-the-wall kind of place. There was a bright light in the entry way and that's pretty much it. No sign. No door. And all night long, there was a group of men standing in front of the hotel, just watching. They couldn't afford to buy a prostitute, so they just got jollies from watching them come and go. My heart hurt. Ached. And then, I got angry. Any talk of showing love was gone--I couldn't. I was so mad, so frustrated, so sad, so desperate for something to change. I couldn't stop watching that hotel door either. I watched for over an hour, as men took prostitutes in, one after the other. The men were all smiles, and the girls were covered in shame. I saw it over and over and over. And my heart couldn't stand it. I simply checked out of our Party of Love and felt hopeless.
When I got home, Alan asked me how it went and I just cried. And the next morning, I cried more. And then during church, I cried again. I wish I was a lot cooler about this kind of stuff. Like I could show up, love people, leave, and feel awesome. But apparently I'm not that cool. I showed up, I was highly disturbed, I couldn't engage in the manicures because I was mad about the fact that once the manicure was over--once their 15 minutes of being served and loved through an act of kindness was over--they were going to be bought for sex, most likely using those very hands we just washed, and I definitely wasn't feeling any love towards the pimps or johns. See? This is why I have a really really long way to go in loving others in their darkest moments. But it's a twisted Gospel to believe that love is only for certain people, that love is only for those who love us in return, and that we show love when it's convenient for us.
I don't know. I just keep thinking about how Jesus came to me, loved me, and continues to love me, in my ugliest, darkest moments. I keep thinking about how I love Jesus and how I want others to experience this love, too. And so I keep showing up, even when it's inconvenient, especially when it's uncomfortable, and trying my best to channel my inner-Jesus-love. And the more I do that, the more I realize it's not about me at all--I will never save the world. In fact, I will never change one person. Love--the unconditional Jesus kind of love-- is what brings hope to the hopeless, freedom to the enslaved, peace to the anxious, and change to the most hardened of hearts. I am choosing love.
-M
Guys, I'm not super gangsta. Oh wait, you knew that? I see. Well, a lot times people assume all missionaries are gangsta. That's actually not true. No one thinks that. But what they might think is that missionaries know how to love people really well. I'd like to go ahead and unpack that myth for you.
I'm learning how to love others, even while they're in their darkest moment, but it's definitely not my strength. And by learning, I mean that if love were on a scale of 1-100, I'm at like a 7.5. I have a really, really long way to go. I want to run and go find someone else who is a lot kinder than me, a lot braver than me, to go and love people. Let me find someone to whom it comes naturally, because for me, it's hard work. It's so much easier to draw a line in the sand and stay on the safe side. It's easier just to shout "truth" at others, to form all my opinions about right and wrong, rather than walk across the line and be quiet with them and love them in their darkest moment.
But here's the problem: I love Jesus. It seriously is problematic, especially when I want to live a cozy, Pinterest-inspired life. Based on the fact that Jesus was homeless, I'm pretty sure he doesn't give a frick if my house is decorated well. Bummer. I love the way Jesus loved people! I want to give him a high-five for it and tell him how inspiring it is and then let other people try to love like He did. Because I know me. I know how impatient, selfish, and judgmental I am. And I know how much it hurts to love. How there are no guarantees--that just because I show someone love, they'll show me love in return or they'll make better choices. There's just no guarantee and that sucks.
 |
| "They are precious in His sight" |
When I got home, Alan asked me how it went and I just cried. And the next morning, I cried more. And then during church, I cried again. I wish I was a lot cooler about this kind of stuff. Like I could show up, love people, leave, and feel awesome. But apparently I'm not that cool. I showed up, I was highly disturbed, I couldn't engage in the manicures because I was mad about the fact that once the manicure was over--once their 15 minutes of being served and loved through an act of kindness was over--they were going to be bought for sex, most likely using those very hands we just washed, and I definitely wasn't feeling any love towards the pimps or johns. See? This is why I have a really really long way to go in loving others in their darkest moments. But it's a twisted Gospel to believe that love is only for certain people, that love is only for those who love us in return, and that we show love when it's convenient for us.
I don't know. I just keep thinking about how Jesus came to me, loved me, and continues to love me, in my ugliest, darkest moments. I keep thinking about how I love Jesus and how I want others to experience this love, too. And so I keep showing up, even when it's inconvenient, especially when it's uncomfortable, and trying my best to channel my inner-Jesus-love. And the more I do that, the more I realize it's not about me at all--I will never save the world. In fact, I will never change one person. Love--the unconditional Jesus kind of love-- is what brings hope to the hopeless, freedom to the enslaved, peace to the anxious, and change to the most hardened of hearts. I am choosing love.
-M
I am on that page...except I'm more like a 6 <3
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