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.

 

 





 

 



Yoked

"For the one who was a slave when he was called to faith in the Lord is the Lord's freed person; similarly, the one who was free when called is Christ's slave." ~ 1 Corinthians 7:22

 

 

I have a confession. It’s really scandalous, so brace yourself. Are you ready? Okay, here it is: Sometimes, the bible confuses me. Reading it can be kind of like trying to put a puzzle together without all of the right pieces, or like trying to understand theoretical physics without even knowing how to add. And it’s not just the lofty Old Testament passages where so-and-so begat so-and-so, or the sweeping narratives of fiery wars, or the poignant parables laced with profound spiritual undertones. It can be as simple as one word, one word that stares up at me from the flimsy pages of my tattered bible and eats away at my soul.

            This is especially true in the letters of Paul, who time and time again refers to himself as a slave of Jesus Christ. A slave. Slave- there’s the word. The word that I wrestle with endlessly until I can manage to muster some kind of shoddy explanation for its use. My finite mind shoots out all kinds of objections, as if any of them were really worthy. But wait, I thought slavery was bad? But wait, I thought Jesus said He came to set me free? But wait, I don’t have time to be a slave; I am my own master, gosh dang it! The list goes on and on. Surely, Paul was just exaggerating. I don’t really have to be a slave to anyone. I can take all of the parts of Christianity that make me feel good, like a loving, caring God and the promise of eternal life without having to surrender anything in return. Right? Right!?!?

            So . . . what does it mean? To be a slave to Christ? And what’s the alternative? Because at the end of the day, isn’t everyone a slave to something? To fear? To pride? To despair? To physical pleasures that will only pass away with time? To feeble human volition? (I could  do this all day, mostly because I’ve been enslaved to all of these things, and many more, at some point or another.)

            But at first, the fact that everyone’s hypothetically enslaved to something doesn’t make being enslaved to Christ any more appealing. It raises all sorts of complicated theological questions about free will. “Great. So God just made me so that I can be His slave. And if I choose not to be His slave, then I’m going to be in bondage to something else anyway. Some God.” We begin to look at God as a tyrant who wants to make us His well-behaved robots- or else. He wants to shatter all of our hopes of happiness, forbid us from doing the things we love, and dictate even the most meticulous aspects of our lives with a caustic bolt of lightning. Do you want anything to do with this God? Because I sure don’t.

            This conception of God may be common, but is it realistic? Let’s take a look at the closest thing to God humanity has ever known- the divine living in flesh and walking among men. Jesus was not a tyrant. At least not when He said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these” (Matthew 19:14). He was meek. Let’s not forget the countless occasions in which He healed the hopelessly ill, and clothed the hopelessly poor. He was abundant in grace.  And what about the time he defended the destitute adulteress as the ravenous Pharisees longed to stone her? He reprimanded them, saying, “Let he among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone” (John 8:7). He was gentle; he was merciful. He let the woman go; he set her free. And as he hung in agony on the cross? He shattered the strongholds of sin and liberated humanity from the wages of sin- death. He took our death upon Himself, but three days later he triumphed over it like no one else ever could. As we look at this portrait, we start to see that being a slave to Christ isn’t so much about dreadful submission to an oppressive authority. It’s about being yoked to His character- to love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, faithfulness, and self-control. It’s about abandoning the trials and temptations that hinder us so that we might be made perfect in love. Yes, sometimes it requires difficult sacrifices. But compared to the alternatives, the yoke is easy, and the burden is light.

            And in our slavery lies the thing that awakens the hopes of the distressed soul: redemption. The bible uses several words to describe this precious entity, one being agorazo, which literally translated means “To purchase in the marketplace.” In biblical times, it frequently alluded to the purchase of a slave. In biblical context, however, it means that Christ purchased us through His precious blood. Purchased us from bondage of sin, for Himself. To Himself. To His character. Not because He is a ruthless authoritarian. But because we are His beloved children, and He wants to hold us in His embrace. He does not want to shatter our hopes of happiness; we wants to fill us with the hope of true happiness. He does not want to forbid us from doing the things we love; He wants to protect us from harm, and teach us to love the things that are best for us. He does not want to dictate the most meticulous aspects of our lives with a caustic bolt of lightning; He wants to permeate them with a raging fire of love.

            When I look at it this way, the pieces of the puzzle begin to come together. (I still have absolutely no understanding of theoretical physics.) The word slave no longer burns a hole in my heart. It gazes at me with eyes that are somehow compassionate and speaks into  me with a sense of peace.

                                                                  

           And so I let go. I stop making excuses; I am glad to let it happen. I flee from my temporary carnal liberty to complete bondage in Christ, and to Christ. I get on my knees and say, “Take me, all of me. I am yours. I am your slave, no matter the cost.” He reaches out and takes my wrist, and binds it to His, His which is pierced with scars that were meant for mine. I am no longer bound to my fear, my pride, or my despair. I am bound to the trust that He will purify me with His grace. I am yoked, for today, for tomorrow, and forevermore.

                                                                   

           
           It is in my slavery that I find freedom.

A Leap of Faith, a Leap of Love

* Not going to lie . . . this is actually just my ninth grade Kite Runner paper. It's kind of on the long side . . . but I like it, and I hope you do too! (:

“Who believes what we have heard and seen? Who would have thought God’s saving power would look like this?” (Isaiah 53:1)

            I see the rusted nails first. Then, the guilty hands driving them into the palms of innocence, the palms of steadfast devotion to the human race. The hands are trembling, and drip a cold, malevolent sweat. They grasp the wounded skin underneath them and move with an unrelenting sharpness. They raise the hammer and in a matter of seconds, it batters the head of the nail. The man trapped underneath stifles what is certain to be a bloodcurdling scream. I trace the hand stained with the innocent man’s blood and see a soldier of sin with empty eyes and a plagued soul. Those hands are my hands; I am that soldier. The outpouring of love trickles down my flesh. I am sickened, and haunted, by a grace that I cannot comprehend. This is the Christ, the lamb who was sent for slaughter. The love that He possessed for all of mankind is one acquired by few, such as the fictitious Hassan in Khaled Hosseini’s The Kite Runner. However, I am convicted that it is a vital tool in living a life that is fulfilling to oneself as well as to others. As is evident in Hosseini’s novel, religious history, and the course of humanity, this kind of love often lends itself to fortitude, scorn, and sacrifice.

            "The Servant grew up before God- a scrawny seedling, a scrubby plant in a parched field. There was nothing attractive about him, nothing to cause us to take a second look.    He was looked down on and passed over, a man who suffered, who knew pain firsthand.             One look at him and people turned away. We look down on him, thought he was scum . . ."  (Isaiah 53:2-3)

            In  Hosseini’s The Kite Runner, readers are given a clear picture of the treatment faced by Hassan and other Afghani Hazaras. It goes without saying that the minority group is subject to constant degradation and inferiority. At the start of the novel, Hassan is a young, harelipped, Hazara boy who is by no means a friend of society. Due to prejudices against those of his race, religion, and class, Hassan is bound to a world of injustice and lowliness. However, Hassan proves to be a true hero for many characters in the novel when it truly matters.

In Jesus’ time, carpenters and other manual labors were at the much lower end of the social spectrum. On annount of heavy taxes by Roman officials as well as tithes required by Jewish law, he was in a poor place financially and within society. Jews in general were also looked down upon seeing as how they seemed to ‘interfere’ with the overall advancement of the Roman Empire. Despite this grim circumstance, Jesus taught that persons should learn to be content with what they were given and live a reputable lifestyle even in the face of injustice. His social class did not define him, rather he used it as an opportunity to display his grace to those of all walks of life. Similarly, Hassan knows of his place in his community, but that does not hinder him from contributing to it, although it is done on a very humble and personal level. I find the ability to radiate a positive light into a community that lashes constant malevolence upon one’s class or circumstance to be truly admirable. A willingness to put aside hindrances for the greater good of a race- the human race, in Jesus’s case, a community, a family, or an individual- the latter two being common for young Hassan, is an essential component of learning to live a lifestyle of genuine love.

“. . . But the fact is, it was our pains he carried- our disfigurements, all the things wrong   with us. We thought he brought it on himself, that God was punishing him for his own             failures. But it was our sins that did that to him, that ripped and tore and crushed him- our             sins! He took the punishment, and that made us whole. Through his bruises we are             healed. Were all like sheep who’ve wandered off and gotten lost. We’ve all done our own thing, gone our own way. And GOD has piled all our sins, everything we’ve done wrong, on him, on him . . .”(Isaiah 53:4-6)

On a cold, fateful night in a cramped alleyway, Hassan takes Amir’s wrongdoings upon himself in a dehumanizing rape. When he runs the coveted last-kite of the tournament, he encounters the hostile Assef and his fearful followers who seek to teach the “useless hazara” a lesson. He is granted a choice, however. He can hand the precious kite over to the other boys, or he can pay the consequence that refusing to do so will ensue. He makes the choice that most- even the most loyal, most generous individuals could not dream of making. The kite is ridden with sin, with selfish desires, and with pride. Still, he defends it and the battles it represents with all of his might. The alleyway reeks of fear and of cowardice, yet Hassan humbly and courageously sheds his guileless blood.

Crucifixion was a popular, yet brutal, punishment established to rid society of the foulest offenders. The cross was reserved for thieves and murderers- not for those of innocent flesh. However, as was predicted by prophets of the Old Testament, Jesus took the fall for the inequities of many. In the last hours of his life, he is brutalized, mocked, and tormented for no fault of his own. Taking undeserved punishment for the benefit of one for whom mercy is equally undeserved is not something commonly seen amongst the human race. However, much of society today revolves around the belief that a single man laid down his life to do just that.

"He was beaten, he was tortured, but he didn’t say a word. Like a lamb taken to be             slaughtered and like a sheep being sheared, he took it all in silence" (Isaiah 53:7).

                                                                 

 

           Throughout the novel, Hassan submits himself to the mistreatment of the government, society, his peers, and even his own brother. Despite this, he does not respond to evil with evil, but attempts to overcome it with a powerful, and incredible compassion. Following the rape, Amir desperately seeks to find redemption by having Hassan give him the retribution he deserves. For instance, Amir assaults him with massive pomegranates, in hopes that he will retaliate.  “ ‘Hit me back!’ I spat. ‘Hit me back, goddamn you!’ I wished he would. I wished he’d give me the punishment I craved, so maybe I’d finally sleep at night” (Hosseini 92). Knowing that his transgressions are the reason for Hassan’s attack is exceedingly difficult for Amir to cope with, and he feels that Hassan’s venegence will quell his guilt. Nevertheless, Hassan’s unexpected gesture of clemency proves to be much more painful than his revenge ever could have been. I have found through the course of my own life that killing my enemies with kindness not only leaves me feeling more satisfied, but also gives them some sort of foundation of benevolence that I believe is important for all individuals, even the most coldhearted, to build their lives upon.

Hassan surrenders to serve his greatest debtors, as well as those he loves the most. Growing up as a servant to Amir and Baba, he lives a much more austere lifestyle as compared to his masters. While Amir goes through the motions of a routine he takes for granted, Hassan puts in tireless labor into a routine designed to supply Amir with his most basic needs. This unassuming servant will go to any lengths to ensure that Amir’s toast is buttered and his bags are packed properly. Not once is he idle in his duties. Not once does he utter a complaint. I find great joy in showing people love in such a manner. Although most overlook such small details, I myself feel most loved when others are consistent in going the extra mile to keep even the most minor aspects of my life in place.

Shortly before his death, Jesus takes care to wash the feet of each of his disciples. At this time, footwear was essentially nonexistent, and travel was by foot, therefore feet were characterized by severe wounds and griminess. Jesus brought himself down to that level in order to serve the ones that he loved most dearly. Although this ritual was not exceedingly drastic, it displayed a great deal of humility and care. Jesus left this model for his disciples of the selfless way they were to serve others so that they could benefit from redeeming love as well.

On Amir’s thirteenth birthday, Hassan encounters his assailant and is expected to serve him beverages. Instead of lashing out against the cruel Assef, or at the very least refusing to serve him, Hassan faces him with a gentle heart and a resilient spirit. I personally am an individual who will sacrifice most anything for someone that I love unconditionally, such as a friend of family member. To love my enemies unconditionally, however, is a much more daunting thought that makes me cringe in agony.

"Justice was miscarried and he was led off- did anyone know what was really             happening? He died without a thought for his own welfare, beaten bloody for the sins of             my people. They buried him with the wicked, threw him in a grave with a rich man, even though he’d never hurt a soul, or said one thing that wasn’t true " (Isaiah 53:8-9).

 

            When Amir returns to Pakistan to confront his past, he learns the unbearable: Hassan is dead. In a period of extreme turmoil and uncertainty within the nation of Afghanistan, there is very little that the Taliban cannot do. This is especially prevalent in an already ruthless massacre on Afghani Hazaras. Hassan is wrongfully accused of trespassing in the house of Amir’s childhood that he is trying to preserve. When he refuses to relocate his family, he is led out onto the street, shot, and killed, along with his wife. He does not argue, simply kneels and accepts his fate. I find that most incredible, along with the fact that until his dying moment he remained loyal to Amir, despite all of the anguish that their relationship had entailed.

"Still, it’s what God had in mind all along, to crush him with pain. The plan was that he give himself as an offering for sin so that he’d see life come from it- life, life, and more    life, and God’s plan will prosper deeply through him. Out of the terrible travail of the    soul, he’ll see that it’s worth it and be glad he did it. Through what he experienced, my righteous one, my servant, will make many more ‘righteous ones,’ as he carries the burden of their sins. Therefore I’ll reward him extravagantly- the best of everything, the highest honors- because he looked death in the face and didn’t flinch, because he embraced the company of the lowest. He took on his shoulders the sin of many, he took up the cause of all the black sheep" (Isaiah 53: 10-12).

                In my mind, there is only one word, and one thing, that adequately describe Hassan’s actions in The Kite Runner, and of course, Jesus’s in the bible. That thing is love- love that is merciful, embracing, and ultimately sacrificial. Although the historical Jesus is no longer physically present to see the far-reaching effects that his acts of mercy had on earth, the remarkable reparation of relation between God and man continues as new souls see this light each day. Although Hassan never lived to see Amir find the courage to embrace his son Sohrab, Amir ultimately learns a lesson of love, redemption, and forgiveness.  The fact of the matter is, loving someone, especially someone who has hurt, abandoned, betrayed, or mistreated us is no easy task. It requires a bold acceptance that the love we exude may never be requited, or that even if it is, we may never live to see its effect. It demands the humility to put oneself under another for the sake of compassion and the building up of others. Most of all, I believe that love requires an unshakable faith that in its most authentic form, love will accomplish its predestined purpose in due course- a faith that love conquers, love redeems, and love heals.

 

 

               The bonds of sacrificial love that tie humanity together are truly incredible, and the cross is the epitome of this love. In what ways has love redeemed you? Where do you still need redemption?