Twenty Questions with Kirby Part 2

1. Are certain words considered beautiful because of the ideas and images they signify or because of an aesthetic quality that they inherently possess?
2. Is it more meaningful to “be a voice for the voiceless” or to listen and allow the “voiceless” to speak for themselves?
3. The media is largely responsible for perpetuating many problematic images and stereotypes. To what extent can a change to this norm be consumer driven, and how much of it must come from within the media itself?
4. How can I prevent one element of my identity from becoming my identity without minimizing its importance?
5. I’ve always been a fan of the idea of compassion. Recently, I learned that compassion literally means “to suffer with.” When is it appropriate to attempt to heal someone’s pain, and when is it more appropriate to enter that pain with them?
6. How can we best go about critiquing ideologies without becoming critical of the individuals who hold them?
7. Is it possible to be authentic with the masses and be vulnerable with only a few?
8. Does preoccupation with certainty lead to loss of faith?
9. Many emotional words prevalent in other languages have no English equivalent, and perhaps vice versa. Does this negate the universality of the emotions themselves?
10. What does it really mean to “keep in touch?”
11. In what ways is beauty a multisensory experience?
12. Is it possible to return to a place or a person you love without being physically present?
13. We tend to feel our most powerful emotions in the heart- or in the core of who we are. Why then, do we often suppress these emotions as trivial?
14. How can I bridge the gap between my youthful uncertainty and developing wisdom in order to cultivate a unique and powerful voice for myself?
15. Unrequited love???  
16. How do we maintain the subjectivity of art while fully embracing and appreciating the artist’s original intent?
17. Why are we so quick to judge the value of our actions and efforts on their tangible results, especially when they are out of our control?
18. How did destructive things like discrimination, prejudice, and intolerance become so embedded in the faith I practice- one that is supposed to be based on ideals of love, grace, and justice for all people?
19. As I move on to the next chapter of my life, how do I hold things from home close to my heart while also making room for new people and experiences?
20. Is it okay to ask a question without any real intention of finding an answer?

The Age of my Heart

The Age of my Heart

            “Todo el mundo es la edad de su corazón: everyone is the age of their heart.” This Guatemalan proverb encompasses the revelations that dominated my thoughts on our final full day in a country abundant in both transformative strength and stagnant injustice. Although the trip was undoubtedly focused on service to others, I found that the lessons I learned throughout my experience taught me more about the role I personally play in the world around me more than I could have ever dared to dream. Unlike less consummate forms of introspection that can wrongly engender selfishness, the reflection I experienced on this day inspired a swelling sense of community. This was especially prevalent as we overcame many challenges of both physical and emotional nature as a team. We trekked to the precipice of an active volcano as the sun rose over the lush green landscape. We meandered through the bustling city of Antigua to absorb the rich history and culture of the country’s former capital. (Okay, so we mostly ate great food and tried our hand at bartering with vendors in the marketplace. I was awful.) We spent the evening mulling over our week of adventure and expressing how much we mean to one another. Ultimately, the time we spent together- listening, learning, and loving- brought me to an important realization about what it means to be the age of my heart. One particularly profound definition of the word age describes it as “one of the periods or stages of human life.” By this philosophy, age is not a number, but a complex state of existence. This state is comprised of a myriad of passionate ambitions and intricate stories- many of which are not even my own. They belong to the precious people of La Limonada, to the team with whom I have traveled, and to the beacons of light and love who have dedicated their lives to bridging the divide between privilege and poverty. And yet . . . they are inextricably a part of me and my ever-growing, ever-changing, ever-beating heart.

            It beats with the joyful laughter of dear baby Charlie, who is spending the first few months of her fragile life in a country that most Americans would deem unsafe for even a week of travel. Unaware of this prejudice, she smiles brightly at the strangers who inhabit her home and giggles loudly when they make silly faces- which is often. It aches for the fear-filled brown eyes of children in the daycare of La Limonada when yet another group of strangers darkens its doors. Only moments later, the radical grace and hospitality that permeates the community takes hold from a place deep within their youthful spirits, and they reach up for warm hugs and gentle kisses on the cheek. My heart overflows as it holds dear the dreams of La Limonada’s older children; these dreams radiate with the hope and ambition that is necessary for sustainable social change. It bleeds for the teenage girl on the street corner who has temporarily put her own future on hold so she can nurture a child even though she is still one herself. It swells with the memories I have made with my own peers, each of whom are too uniquely wonderful to describe. These beautiful individuals, although less experienced in years, teach me so much about trust, innocence, and humility. In this period of my human life, I am young.

            My heart gains wisdom and discernment from those whose years have brought with them truths worth internalizing. It is warmed by the strength and diligence of my chaperones/teachers, who have spent countless hours working through the logistics of bringing a diverse group of teenagers to a foreign country. It absorbs the warm light of Daniela and Lizza, the two Lemonade Team members with whom we have worked closely. The compassion they exude for the children of La Limonada is just as fierce as it is gentle- as if these children were their very own. They have high ambitions for this marginalized community and even higher ambitions for a world where this kind of marginalization is heartbreakingly commonplace. My heart is rejuvenated by the tireless efforts of Tita, who has worked in La Limonada for longer than I have been alive, who exemplifies the remarkable truth that perfect love casts out all fear. It lifts up the elderly residents of La Limonada- fathers, mothers, sons and daughters- who believe fervently in a better future for the next generation of Guatemala. Although I may not completely understand the perspective my elders have on the world, they give me hope for the kind of vision I hope to acquire. In this period of my human life, I am growing older.

            Each face, each story, each heart- adds a new dynamic to the heart I am still trying to comprehend- my own. It is young, and it is old. It is so weak, and yet it is so strong. Every vein, every vessel that belongs to me belongs a thousand times over to a world longing simply to love and be loved. So, as I cope with my departure from the land that has captured and transformed the core of my being, I choose to look to the ends of the earth that need to feel the rhythm of my beating heart the most. Because I know now that at this period in my human life, I need to feel theirs just as desperately. Then, and only then, will I be able to understand my identity as a citizen of this beautifully broken world that we all call home.

            Muchas gracias, Guatemala. Nos vemos.

 

 

20 Questions with Kirby

A few short days ago, I returned from a wonderful place called North Carolina Governor’s School West. The experiences I had there taught me so much about my academic area of interest (English), being independent, building relationships, and making lifelong memories. The mantra at Governor’s School is “question everything.” As someone who likes certainty, this idea has made me pretty uncomfortable for most of my life. Some questions lead us to answers that we do not want to find. Some don’t have answers. Nonetheless, the past five and one-half weeks have taught me that I’m not here to have all the answers. I’m here to ask questions and follow them wherever they may lead. So I’ve compiled a list of 20 questions that tend to occupy my thoughts and that I’d like to explore in the upcoming year. 20 questions is a pretty fun game, so feel free to play along!




1. Having withstood the test of time, the golden rule states that we should treat others the way we would like to be treated. If we do not believe that we personally deserve to be treated with empathy and respect, what implications does this have on the way we treat others?
2. Is it possible to truly know a person, or are we merely creating fictional characters in a narrative we write based on the traits we perceive?
3. The saying goes that a picture is worth a thousand words. Who's to say that a word can't be worth a thousand pictures?
4. Can we truly experience happiness in its greatest magnitude without the existence of pain and suffering?
5. In a society that places such great value on individualism, why do so many individuals feel as if they are of little to no value?
6. In the grand scheme of the infinite universe, our planet is merely a speck. Why then, do we use physical distance as a justification for crumbling relationships?
7. Most people agree that lying is morally wrong, and many assert that anything that is not entirely true is a lie. Is it morally wrong to say "I'm fine" when in reality you're the complete opposite?
8. I'm a Christian. Many people in my faith tend to condemn nonbelievers for "rejecting God's love." How can someone be expected to accept a love that is not evident in the lives of those who profess it?
9. By one definition, language is described as "an finite number of symbols arranged into an infinite number of possible combinations." Does this qualify things such as music and mathematics as languages?
10. Would we have more boldness in saying "hello" to strangers if we didn't live with the constant threat of "goodbye?"
11. 75% of American girls believe that their personal worth depends on how they look. For a long time, I was one of them. What are we doing (or not doing) as a society to stop the perpetuation of this destructive idea?
12. How am I supposed to respond when I feel inextricably connected to someone who doesn't even know my name?
13. Is "loving from a distance" an example of bravery or cowardice?
14. Why am I really good at some of the things I'm indifferent towards, but really mediocre at some of the things I'm most passionate about?
15. What are the consequences of labeling romantic love as the most consummate form of human attachment?
16. When is silence louder than noise?
17. When will I stop making the same wish at 11:11 every night: when it finally comes true, or when I accept the fact that it probably never will?
18. Which of these is the most defining component of my identity: the physical, the mental, or the spiritual?
19. Why does it often seem that fiction contains more truth than fact alone?
20. What happens when I run out of questions?

Do You Consider Yourself a Masterpiece?

Slightly interesting fact about me: I really like to write poetry. I don't get to do it as often as I'd like, and I'm no Robert Frost, but there's just something about making words come together that gets me really excited. I especially like it when I feel like I've written something that will brighten someone's day and remind them of how ridiculously loved they are. One poem that reminds me of this is Psalm 139, which famously states: "For you created my inmost being, you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well" (Psalm 139:13-14). So, I figured I'd try to incorporate this truth into a poem of my own. It's intended to be more of a spoken word thing, but since no one wants to see a video of me yelling at them, the script itself is just going to have to work. I really hope it makes you smile!

Do you consider yourself a masterpiece?

Because you know,

We live in a world where it’s easy to feel like a stick figure scribbled on scrap paper

With stubby, broken crayons,

That not even a child will pick up because the colors just aren’t

“Pretty enough.”

 

Because somehow,

We’ve all fallen captive to the presupposition

That the “best art” has to be made out of the “best stuff,”

And that only an intricate physique painted delicately on a sterile white canvas

With paint so pungent, and so bright that its pigments have to be diluted with water

Is worthy of being plastered onto the walls that we build

To detain, to disdain, to disguise, and to deprive ourselves

Of the universe that lies beyond the interior

Because we’ve decided that no one out there in the vastness

Would stand up at an auction and scream over the hushed murmur of the other bidders

Just to hold us in their soft hands and whisper

“Mine.”

 

But then, I look at you,

And I realize,

We’re wrong.

 

Because you, my dear

Are the best art,

The kind of masterpiece that deserves to be on exhibition under the fluorescent lights of an uptown gallery,

To be admired by the glimmering gazes of passersby,

Who stand in awe of the way the colors run together in all the right places brushstroke by brilliant brushstroke,

And to finally be bought at a price of nothing less than a thousand gold coins

Of love and gentleness,

To be emblazoned above the crackling embers of a warm fireplace,

In a home with transparent walls

In a universe of your very own.

 

But yet somewhere in the blurred lines between

Beauty and brokenness,

I’ve lost sight of what the “best stuff”

Really is, and I’m honestly not sure that I know anymore,

But I do know that whatever you’re made of is pretty spectacular,

Like the shimmering dust of the earth that glistens on your bare feet,

And the splendid sunshine that brings out the streaks in your hair,

And the way your soft voice breaks the earsplitting silence,

And the music that exudes from your sympathetic soul.

 

And maybe you’re made of some things that you like to conceal,

To confine to the sketches crumpled up under your bed because you didn’t want to call them art,

Like the scar you got when you stepped on a rock while trying to dance in a thunderstorm,

And the icy rain that falls from your eyes and sometimes blurs your vision when you drive,

And the way you still wake up with cold sweat in the middle of the night because you could never quite kill the monsters in the closet, 

And the shards of glass, sitting in your soul, that the music couldn’t replace when the world handed you heartbreak.

 

But I don’t care if it isn’t always the “best stuff,” or the “brightest paint,”

Fight through the cobwebs festering under your bed, take out those sketches,

And tattoo those flaws on your sun-kissed skin,

Because you, my darling,

Are fearfully, and wonderfully made,

Knitted together with the silvery threads of

Beauty and brokenness,

Woven into the greatest mess of a masterpiece,

The kind that isn’t yet complete.

 

And so if you’re ever asked to draw a self-portrait

And you scribble a stick figure on scrap paper

With stubby, broken crayons

That come in colors you just don’t think are

"Pretty enough,”

Then I will proudly plaster it over the cracks in my crumbling walls,

But then I will sit down at my cluttered desk and write you a poem to say

“You are so much more.”

You are so much more than the person the world will make you out to be, and you better not forget it.

Kairos

Kairos is an ancient Greek word used to describe a defining moment in time. We've all had our fair share of these moments and will continue to experience them in the future. For some of us, our most profound memories are those of great triumph, while for others, times of despair are far more prominent. Regardless, I like to think of these defining moments not as mere specks of time, but as life long journeys. In the grand scheme of things, every laugh that radiates from your heart and every tear that falls from your eye impacts who you are forever. Think about the biggest experiences in your life up to this point. How have they continued to mold and shape you? Where would you be, or who would you be, without these moments? Chances are, these experiences have been the beginning of continuous odysseys, whether you realized it or not.


But sometimes, I wonder how often we wait for time to define us, when really, time is ours to define. Like each unique grain of sand, each moment we are granted offers unique beauty if we are willing to open our eyes and look for it. Because if we can't find delicacy in the small things, how can we ever expect bigger things to come our way? Besides- "bigger" and "better" are things we construct in our minds- and they're never guaranteed. As we're reminded in James 4:13-14: "Come now you who say, 'Today or tomorrow we will go to such and such a city, spend a year there, buy and sell, and make a profit.' Whereas you do not know what will happen tomorrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away." So never forget to take advantage of the opportunities you have before they slip away. Devote each moment to what is important to you and to what has a positive impact on the world around you. Do this so that each day, you are continuing to make strides in the right direction, and each second is a defining one that begins a new voyage into things both new and exciting. Incorporate things that require you to step far out of your comfort zone and help you discover your amazing capabilities and passions. But never, ever forsake the small things. Take a moment in the morning to marvel at the way each drop of dew captures the brilliance of the blue sky. Stand in awe of the way the sun penetrates the clouds and bathes the leaves in golden light. Tell bad jokes, just to hear the sound of your own laughter. Smile at strangers, even when they don't smile back. No matter how gloomy things may seem on any given day, find something to enjoy. Even the biblical King Solomon, who saw so much futility and hopelessness in life, came to an important conclusion at the end of his otherwise bleak book Ecclesiastes: "After looking at the way things are here on this earth, here's what I've decided is the best way to live: Take care of yourself, have a good time, and make the most of whatever job you have as long as God gives you life. And that's about it. That's the human lot. Yes, we should make the most of what God gives, both the bounty and the capacity to enjoy it, accepting what's given and delighting in the work. It's God's gift! God deals out joy in the present, in the now. There's no use brooding over how long we might live" (Ecclesiastes 5:18-20).


Most importantly, never forsake a moment with those who mean the most to you. You don't have to be on a grand adventure to make memories; you can make them while sitting at a red light! (But please be careful to obey all traffic rules and regulations.) No matter how cliché it may sound, life isn't defined by the number of moments we breathe, but by the moments that take our breath away, and who we share them with. Work hand in hand with the people God has placed in your life. Encourage them along the way, and in return they will do the same for you. Hold one another accountable on this thrilling and terrifying expedition where each moment is a stepping stone to something great. And no matter what you do, let it be done in love.


I have no doubt that truly incredible things are in store for each and every one of us. But if all we do is look for incredible things, then how many of them will we miss along the way? My prayer is that as we proceed on the journey of life, we will allow ourselves to be shaped by all of the wonder and beauty around us, and maybe, just maybe, make every moment a Kairos.

Rolling on like a River

“But let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-falling stream!”

~ Amos 5:24

 

In the words of Francis Chan, one of my favorite Christian authors and speakers, “We all know there’s a problem.” While the world we live in is full of beauty, it’s also full of brokenness. While we try to build bridges of peace and understanding, too many of our interactions gape with selfishness and triviality. While we have countless opportunities to fill ourselves with the joy we crave, many of us go to bed each night feeling empty. So . . . there’s definitely a problem, and we all claim to know its source. Some blame it on “the inherent immorality of society,” others on “the corrupt nature of our politics,” and others on “anyone whose views differ from my own.” I tend to disagree with all of these theories, at least to an extent. Although I will admit that immorality and corruption are prevalent issues, I look at them in a slightly different light; perhaps it’s not about the bad things that we are doing, and more about the good things that we’re not doing. Our lands are dry, and our people are thirsting for more. So is cleaning up our language and changing our political affiliation really going to bring abundance back to our land? Call me crazy, but I’m thinking not.

 

In its most authentic form, faith is not something that compels us to follow a set of intricately developed rules. It’s something that compels us to take action against injustice and oppression. We are saved by faith alone, but James 2:14-17 reminds us of an important principle that we often forget, or at least conveniently overlook: “What good is it, dear brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but it doesn’t show by your actions? Can that kind of faith save anyone? Suppose you see a brother or sister who has no food or clothing, and you say ‘Good-bye and have a good day; stay warm and eat well’- but then you don’t give that person any food or clothing. What good does that do? You see, faith by itself isn’t enough. Unless it produces good deeds, it is dead and useless.” Dead and useless, like a riverbed with no water, a painful reminder of an endless drought.

 

I’ll be the first to admit that my actions, or lack thereof, contribute to society’s problems. At times, I am the problem. I’m the problem when I act like my own issues are so much more important than the ones of those around me. I’m the problem when I turn a blind eye to the homeless man on the street. I’m the problem when I hoard by wealth for myself rather than sharing it with those in need. I’m the problem when I allow my brothers and sisters in Christ to make a hateful comment about a person or a generalization about a group of people. I’m the problem when I let my fear inhibit me from taking action, even when I am perfectly capable of doing so. I need to stop. I need to let a love for those in need to rain down on me, washing away the soil of self-centeredness that is crusted on my heart. Because if we claim to be Christians and our lives don’t show it, then we really need to reconsider whether or not we can actually call ourselves followers of Christ.

 

It’s relatively easy to follow rules. It’s even easier to dedicate our lives to making sure everyone else’s lives meet our expectations of “moral living.” It’s much more difficult to abandon our selfish ambitions and live in such a way that displays the truth that the son of God poured out his life for us, as undeserving as we are, and now desires for us to pour out our lives for others, no matter how undeserving they might seem. Only then will justice roll on like a river, and righteousness like a never-falling stream. Only then will fresh waters return to our parched and weary land, even if it only happens one drop at a time. 

13 Lessons Learned in 2013

13. Sometimes, all you need is a cheesy romance novel and a long nap. A lot of the times, we make our problems way more complicated than they need to be. Interestingly enough, their solutions are often simple. Life and its challenges can be exhausting. So when we’re exhausted, we should rest.

 

12. Imperfection is perfectly acceptable. I’ve lived my life with the notion that I’m superwoman. Unfortunately, that is not the case. I have faults. A lot of them, actually. But I’m no better or worse than anyone else on this planet. We all have things we’re great at and things we suck at. Just like a human body, however, all parts are needed for the creation of a functioning whole. I’m so glad I have people in my life who can help me in my weaker areas and vice versa.

 

11. Change is inevitable. But it isn’t always for the worse. Towards the end of this past school year, I had to let go of quite a few people and things that meant a lot to me. I thought that the world would come to a striking halt. Strangely enough, it did not. While I still miss some of the things I had to let go of, the earth continues to turn, and I continue to discover new blessings each day.

 

10. Never underestimate yourself or God’s plans for your life. This year, I’ve learned that I’m capable of a lot more than originally thought. Looking back, I honestly regret excluding myself from certain people or activities with a fear of not being “good enough.” You weren’t created to spend your life comparing yourself to other people. When you let God conform you into the person he created you to be, everything else pretty much falls into place.

 

9. Reading good books is a good thing to do. One of my resolutions for 2013 was to read 50+ books or other works of literature. I met that goal, and each thing I’ve read has changed me in some way or another. (With all that reading, you’d think I’d know an adjective other than ‘good.’ Maybe next year.)

 

8. Labels are stupid. People don’t fit in boxes. Much less boxes with neatly crafted labels.

 

7. A smile can be a very powerful thing. Sometimes I wonder if I freak people out with all my smiling. I probably do, but I can’t help it. If nothing else, I hope that my life demonstrates what pure joy looks like. So even when I’m really not as “fantastic” as I might profess to be, I can always find something to be happy about. Everyone needs a little more hope and a little less negativity.

 

6. When you get beneath the surface, most people have really beautiful stories. The best way to show a person you care about them is to listen to what they have to say.

 

5. Life requires discipline. I have to study to get good grades on tests. I have to eat healthy and exercise to stay in shape. Blog posts really aren’t as easy to write as I thought they would be. But is anything that comes easy really worth having?

 

4. Laughter is the best medicine. I probably shouldn’t confess that when I’m having a bad day I often sit in my room and laugh hysterically. It’s kind of embarrassing. But at the end of the day, life is pretty funny. (Note: The laughter treatment is even more effective when shared with the people you care about.)

 

3. It’s really important to let people know what they mean to you. Contrary to popular belief, it’s okay to be corny and sentimental in public. My absolute best memory of 2013 was passing out handwritten letters to the cast and crew of the school musical I participated in. I didn’t really know how everyone would take it. Fortunately, they were all quite touched- or they employed their best acting skills. In any case, studies show that those who express gratitude to those who mean a lot to them are more emotionally stable than those who don’t.

 

2. Hate added to hate doesn’t improve the hate situation. There are too many hateful people in the world. And that sucks. Unfortunately, hating hateful people doesn’t contribute to the solution. It only worsens the problem. God loves everyone equally, and so should we.

 

1. The kindness you put into the world will always come back to you in full. Even if the seeds of kindness you plant aren’t harvested before your eyes, there’s no better feeling than knowing they were planted. You never know how you’ll be used to touch someone else’s life, but that should never stop us from trying.

 

 

~ Here’s to 2014 and all the challenges and lessons it will bring. Happy New Year, everyone!

The Unnamed Sinner

This poem is based on one of my favorite passages of scripture, where an unnamed woman with a notoriously rugged past falls helplessly at Christ's feet in search of mercy. While we often allow societal standards to define us, remember that you are a precious and valuable human being. Like the woman in this poem, I hope that you will come to a place of breathless surrender that enables you to see your true identity.

 

The Unnamed Sinner

 

 

"A woman in that town who lived a sinful life learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee's house, so she came to him with a jar of alabaster perfume. As she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them, and poured perfume on them . . ." (Luke 7:37-38)

 

 

Breathless, I run, as if I were the

Cutting gale that stings my unnamed face

Like the morbid bite of a serpent

Slithering slyly up my leg

To reopen old wounds.

 

 

Breathless, I fight

To force feeling into my heavy limbs

As they traverse mounds of mired clay

Baked by the unrelenting swelter of the sun

That has etched deep lines in the crevices of my trembling bronze hands,

Clutching close a weighted jar – gushing with the aroma of precious perfume,

Gushing with the shine of a thousand pieces of silver,

And gushing with the blackness of sins.

 

My sins.

 

Breathless, I stop numb,

At the unapproachable threshold between consummation

And the depravity that adorns me like exquisite jewelry.

The low murmur of futile chatter is silenced by deafening stares.

Their opaque glares scream "go,"

But his luminescent gaze whispers

"Come."

 

Breathless, I crumble

In awestruck sorrow to his calloused feet,

And I ponder the forbidden lands where mine have traveled,

Only to be tainted with the dust of insidious ecstasy.

His leathery skin becomes a canvas

For the smear of hot tears formed by swollen sobs,

And for the smudge of cracked lips leaving impure kisses,

Mopped away by the brush of knotted hair,

As grimy fingertips caress the sweet oil deep into his pores,

And deeper still,

Until the earsplitting clamor of hostile ridicule

Becomes the distant whisper of leaves rustling in the soft wind.

 

"For he who is forgiven of little loves little."

 

"Moisha," Savior.

The word rolls of my parched lips

Like a pearl of redeeming crimson blood,

Or a bead of cleansing rain

That sinks far into the sea,

But is not lost in its vastness.

Breathless, I fade into his pure embrace,

Where I am but a speck,

And yet somehow I am the whole world.

 

"Your faith has saved you; go in peace."

 

My name is "forgiven."

My name is "loved."

 

You are forgiven, and you are loved- and that's the only label you'll ever need.

 

 





 

 



Of Value is thy Freight

"Learn to do good; seek justice, correct oppression. Bring justice to the fatherless, and plead the widow's cause."

~ Isaiah 1:17

Did you know that today is International Day of the Girl? Thousands of women and girls across the world are abused and neglected on the sole basis of their gender. God calls us to advocate for the rights of persecuted and give a voice to those who are silenced. Perhaps the best way to defend the rights of the vulnerable is to enable them to do so on their own through access to an education. In honor of International Day of the Girl 2013, here's a piece I wrote about the issue of women's education last spring. Sometimes I get a little carried away with my metaphors, so please excuse me. (:

 

"Of Value is thy Freight"

 





Who is a woman without access to an education? She is a castaway stranded in the threatening waters of a relentless sea. On a distant horizon is a captivating shore that she is unable to behold, for a veil, which has been imposed on her from the dawn of humanity, conceals her haggard eyes. Impenetrable blindness overwhelms her; it tethers her to a dock of oppression and inferiority. In the patriarchal societies of many nations across the globe, education is a vessel that sails freely only for males. Too often, women in such countries are left to sink in a persistent flood of inequality. It is my fervent belief that the right to explore earth’s uncharted waters has been bestowed upon all humans, and I am confident that this right is best protected in the form of educational opportunities. While these opportunities have been made more easily attainable for women in recent years, educational equality must be achieved in full. A nation that protects a woman’s right to an education is one that reduces her susceptibility to injustice, empowers her development in society, and ultimately promotes the progression of the human race.

 

 

            The prevalence of social tyranny in nations with educational inequality frequently subjects women to brutality and injustice of various forms. A Thousand Splendid Suns, one of the most groundbreaking literary works of the twenty-first century, chronicles the plight of Afghani women. A major protagonist in this work is the product of an out-of-wedlock pregnancy who is perceived as a menace to society from birth. She is never granted access to a public education. At the age of fifteen, she is forced to marry a man who is more than twice her age. After enduring decades of abuse, she is ultimately stoned to death for lashing out against her oppressor. Unfortunately, this woman’s story is not one that is confined to the pages of a novel. It is one that is brought to life across the globe each day. However, there is a means of escape for the women who live out this cruel reality. Exhaustive research indicates that countries with more educated women report lower rates of child/infant mortality, lessened maternal mortality, and curbed pervasiveness of sexually transmitted disorders. Women who are nurtured in knowledge are more likely to take ownership of their minds, their bodies, and their freedoms. A sense of personal dominion enables females to advocate for themselves and slowly lift the veil blinding them from the hope they are entitled to pursue.

            The facilitating nature of education and the countless territories it spans instills an attitude of enlightenment in an individual, which thus elicits the desire to become a contributing member of society. Consider the remarkable accomplishments of empowered women of the past. Because of education, women have explored space, escaped poverty, become humanitarians, and made other innovations in their frontiers. What if the cure for AIDS lies in the hands of a young Pakistani girl who has never set foot in a school? What if world peace dwindles in the fingertips of an Ethiopian woman who has been circumscribed by her gender? The daunting waters of the world we inhabit are surely ridden with torrents of uncertainty. These torrents are matched in strength only by the infinite sea of inquisitive women who have yearned to navigate and quell stormy waters, but have been inhibited from doing so. As a result of these inhibitions, many of earth’s greatest mysteries remain unsolved.

          History and literature remind us that education is a critical tool in ensuring the promise of an incandescent future. In his popular poem "Song of Democracy," writer and philosopher Walt Whitman asserts that education is the right by which all other rights are championed. To emphasize this theme, Whitman Pens:

"And these I see, these sparkling eyes,

These stores of mystic meaning, these young lives,

Building, equipping like a fleet of ships, immortal ships,

Soon to sail out over the measureless seas,

On the soul's voyage."

Although the poem pertains directly to the American education systems, its words and their meanings are universal; education is essential in fostering the overall advancement of humankind. The majority of us have been given the opportunity to thrive in the broadening environment of a public school. Have you ever taken a moment to reflect upon the meaning of a place where students come together to learn from the past and embrace the present so that they might become the future? Nations that deny women the right that so many of us enjoy are generally plagued with raging violence, antique prejudices, and political turmoil. As the future of our world, I propose that we educate ourselves on the issues surrounding educational inequality as well as the implications that they carry. Withholding the right to an education from a group of individuals, no matter how far away they may seem, hinders us all from reaching the destination towards which we sail. For in the words of Walt Whitman, a public school is more than the tiresome reading, writing, and ciphering classes. It is more, infinitely more.

Since its inception, humanity has longed to dock upon a shore of equality, liberation, and prosperity. I believe that education is the vessel by which this harbor is reached, but the lingering disparity of women's education has anchored man's progress too deeply in outdated and discriminatory ideals. Establishing universal education for women across the globe will protect them from oppression and allow them to transform their environments, and it will be a milestone in the ongoing quest to secure human rights for all. Please join me in the mission to rescue the castaway who is stranded in her lack of knowledge. Lift the veil that masks her face, and look upon her with new eyes as hers quiver open. Let her know that she is the exceedingly valuable freight carried by the store of education. Release the yoke that has bound her to ineffable transgressions as she learns to navigate the unfamiliar waters on her own.

 

 

 

 

Malala Yousfazi is an incredible champion for women's rights! Check out one of her many inspiring interviews here.



 

Tearing Down the Walls

 Prejudice. Does society know of a more impenetrable wall, of one with a deeper foundation? Since the inception of time, humans have shamelessly based their acceptance of others off of an array of external factors. Appearance, popular status, belief, and behavior are just a few of our favorites. At first glance, the barriers we build around ourselves and our neatly crafted social groups seem to shield us from the discomfort and apprehension that what lies beyond these barriers may bring. But then . . . we’re trapped in a world where everyone looks, thinks, and acts as we do. The familiar sights we once cherished become vile portraits of monotony. Deep down, we thirst for an escape, but our all-consuming animosities against the outside world seal even the smallest of cracks in the wall that imprisons us. 



           

           Astonishingly, (or maybe not so astonishingly) Christians have a reputation for their alienation, and it often comes off as unyielding hate. I think most of us have good intentions. (At least, I hope most of us have good intentions.) We want to “Surround ourselves with Godly influences” or “Abstain from worldly practices.” And that’s wonderful. You should have a spiritual support system, and there are probably certain things that you should avoid. But personally, I think there comes a point when these “good intentions” take a backseat to our unjustified inhibitions. These inhibitions dictate the way we think, and the way we act. They cause us to look at people for “what” they are instead of who they are, and more importantly- the one who created them. They cause our churches to become hostile country clubs- the utter opposite of what they were intended to be. (But hey, the guy who prays the most gets the best seat!) They hinder us from our mission to be light in the darkness- because somehow, we have become enveloped in the darkness itself. Often, however, we’re far too blind to see it.

            As much as we like to believe that God shares our personal prejudices, The Bible clearly illustrates that He does not. John 4 tells the story of Jesus and a Samaritan woman- two people who were never supposed to cross paths.

            But they did. Quite intentionally, I might add.

            The Samaritan woman journeyed out into the intense heat of the day to gather water from the village well. Although water-gathering was considered a highly social activity, this weary woman was alone- most likely because of her less-than-ideal status as a woman who had been married five times and was living with a man who wasn’t her husband. As she drew from the well, Jesus embraced this outcast as someone He loved dearly. He looked past social rituals and offered her the promise of living water- of abundant life like a bubbling spring. Almost instantly, she abandoned her task in sheer elation and rushed back to her village to share with others the hope she had discovered. An act of bold compassion brought out the life stored within her; it liberated multitudes from the bondage of discrimination and into the freedom of eternal acceptance.  (Remarkably, Jesus did not become an adulterous woman in the process.)

            God’s disapproval of unwarranted human prejudices goes back even further than this profound narrative. Early in the Old Testament, we find the story of the Battle of Jericho. I know what all of you bible scholars out there are thinking: “Wait! That was when the Israelites marched around six times and then God destroyed the city. What does that have to do with prejudice?” Well, your second-grade Sunday school teacher may have left out the fact that Joshua and his spies, on whom the entire mission rested, were sheltered in the house of Rahab . . . a prostitute. What if Joshua and his men had looked only at her inequity, and not at her potential? What if they hadn’t trusted that God was going to use her for His purposes? The walls of Jericho may still be standing.

            And Rahab may have never become a part of the genealogy of Jesus, the one who came to tear down all walls that persist in dividing us.

            We say Jesus has shattered the barriers of our hearts. But do we live as if He has? Do we follow the warning words of James, who asserts that appearances are more than falliable: “Suppose someone comes into your meeting dressed in fancy clothes and expensive jewelry, and another comes in who is poor and dressed in dirty clothes. If you give special attention and a good seat to the rich person, but say to the poor, “You can sit over there, or on the floor,”- well, doesn’t this show that your discrimination is based on evil motives? Hasn’t God chosen the poor of this world to be rich in faith? Aren’t they the ones who inherit the kingdom promised to those who love him? But you dishonor the poor! Isn’t it the rich who drag you into courts and oppress you?” (James 2:2-6) Or do our judgmental glances and haughty attitudes defile the name of God, who loved each and every one of us enough to forgive a debt that we could never repay? James is also adamant that we must “Speak and act as those who are going to be judged by the law that gives freedom, because judgment without mercy will be shown to anyone who is not merciful. Mercy triumphs over judgment” (James 2:12-13).

            You never know what God is doing in the life of another person- until you make an earnest effort to find out. So go against the grain and embrace people on the fringes of society. Step out of your comfort zone, out of your own little world. Learn to see people with your heart, and not your eyes. The incredible just might happen. You might lead someone to a wellspring of living water. Or just like in The Battle of Jericho, you may find your strength in the most unexpected of places. And the walls just might come crumbling down.

 



           

           

Worth the Wait

"Keep on asking, and you will receive what you ask for. Keep on seeking, and you will find. Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened to you."

 

~ Matthew 7:7

 

 

You’ve been on a long, strenuous journey. Each step is a battle as your body cries out in pain. Your heart grows heavy when you examine the vast expanse of barren land stretching out to taunt you. But then, you see it- the faint outline of a house in the distance. As you grow closer, you see that there is a gleaming light radiating from the windowsills. At first, hope flickers inside you like the glow of a fitful lightning bug, but from there it begins to grow. It glimmers with all of its eager brilliance and illuminates the most dark and desperate chambers of your soul. It’s the hope that maybe, just maybe, some compassionate spirit in that house will open his doors, take you in, and give you a place to rest your weary eyes. He’ll give you something to satisfy your emaciated stomach. He’ll help you find the hope you’ve been looking for all along.

 

The very thought is enough to turn your burdened gait into a rejuvenated sprint. The bitter wind eats at the nape of your frostbitten neck, but you push against it with everything you have. Finally, with a pounding heart and bated breath, you find yourself on the doorstep of this house, this fortress- an ornate mansion that towers over you in greatness. Anxiously, you pound on the door with your trembling fist. Nothing. You knock a little harder- furiously, even.

 

“Please, sir. Let me in,” you mutter desperately. “I know you can hear me!” Silence. Earsplitting silence. We don’t know whether to be more persistent in our plea, or to dejectedly walk away.

 

Isn’t this how we feel with God sometimes? We’ve come so far. We’ve knocked so hard. We’ve waited so long for Him to bring us into His embraces, to offer us peace and rest. But it seems as if He’s remained silent. He’s left us out in the cold to grovel in our despair. He must be the callous mansion owner watching over us from His lofty place of warmth and comfort; He must be mocking us in our agony. Believe me. I know the feeling. I know what it’s like to feel as if my fervent prayers somehow disintegrate into all of God’s incomprehensible breadth. I know what it’s like too feel like I’m so low on His priority list that I’ve just been shoved to the bottom of the stack. I know what it’s like to feel like His pawn in some sick, twisted game. I’ve been there. We all have, at some point or another- whether we’ve never been able to muster a prayer or whether we’ve prayed the same one 1,000 times.

 

And in the midst of it all, we are challenged with a word, a command, that arouses torrents of overwhelming frustration: “Wait.” Wait for things to get better. Wait for reconciliation in that relationship. Wait to find what you’re looking for. Wait for healing Wait for peace. Wait.

 

“Wait, God? Are you freaking kidding me? Do you know how cold it is out here? Do you know how lost, hungry, and hopeless I am? Why on Earth do you want me to wait!?”

 

I know that nothing can be said to relieve the temporary affliction that accompanies periods of prolonged suffering. But I can offer a few eternal promises: your perseverance will strengthen you; it will conform you to the image of God: “For we know that suffering produces perseverance, perseverance character, and character, hope. And this hope will not disappoint us because God’s love has been poured out to us through Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 5:3-5). You will be renewed and your steps will be refreshed; you won’t just walk- you’ll soar: “But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they’ll mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not become weary; they shall walk and not become faint” (Isaiah 40:31).  You will yield a reward far greater than what seems imaginable: “Be patient, therefore, brothers, until the coming of the Lord. See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth, being patient about it, until it receives the early and the late rains. You also, be patient, for the coming of the Lord is at hand” (James 5:7-8). Greater things are coming. Greater things you will find if you seek them earnestly, no matter how long and strenuous the journey may be. No matter how long you’re waiting on the doorstep.

 



 

            And while you’re waiting? By no means do you have to like it. By no means do your prayers have to be “nice.” It’s perfectly okay to raise your voice with God; I don’t think He minds. It’s okay to knock harder- put a hole in the door, if absolutely necessary. God will see your persistence. Into your persistence, He will pour His incredible power. Others will see your faith, and they’ll be stunned. (Or maybe they’ll think you’re crazy. That’s okay too.) Your renewed spirit will shine bright enough to illuminate a thousand nights. And when the time is right, the bitter winds will shift. The horizon will brighten. A benevolent man with scarred hands and a compassionate gaze will come down to greet you. You’ll find that in His house are many rooms, filled with broken, imperfect people. All along, He has been preparing a place for you. It offers shelter. It offers hope and healing. It offers reconciliation. It offers satisfaction and peace. And it’s far greater than anything you ever could have imagined. You rest in this man’s embrace and thank Him for hearing your cry. He commends you for not giving up.

 

            So don’t give up.

            Keep on asking- because the life you receive will be abundant.

            Keep on seeking- because you might be surprised at what you find.

           

            Keep on knocking- because when the door finally creaks open, what lies beyond the threshold will be worth the wait.