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.

 

 





 

 



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.

 



           

           

A Chain Reaction

        “Compassion is the greatest form of love that humans have to offer.” These words were breathed by Rachel Scott, the first student brutalized in the Columbine High School shootings of April 1999. And she wasn’t kidding. In fact, the biblical Greek word for compassion is Splagcnizomai, meaning “moved from the inward parts.” An authentic act of compassion comes from the center of who you are, from a radically changed heart. I think that this is what makes compassion so special. It isn’t superficial or self-seeking. It’s an utter outpour of overflowing joy and grace from the bottom of your heart. Like a wildfire, it consumes everything in its path, from blades of grass to lofty trees. Like a river, it cleanses and rejuvenates everything it washes over, from grains of sand to cutting stones. Even when its effects are not automatic, compassion is unstoppable. It’s a chain reaction.

                                                                   

                                                                     

 

        I wish I could say that compassion is the empowering force behind everything I do. But unfortunately, it’s not. I’m a selfish, imperfect human. It is, however, my ultimate goal. I want to live my life knowing that I have loved people from a movement of the inward self. When I leave this Earth one day, hopefully many, many years from now, I want people to look back on my life and say, “Wow. That girl’s life was changed from the inside out. And it was really evident in the way she treated those around her, from her closest friends to her most relentless persecutors.” And ultimately, I want them to be pointed to the consummate act of compassion that has changed me so deeply- the display of undeserved love on the cross that has given me the power to live freely.

 

            If untainted compassion is the goal towards which we strive, we must not attempt to change, but we must allow ourselves to be changed. If you never remember another bible verse in your life, please remember this one: (It’s short, I promise.) “We love because He first loved us” (1 John 4:19). We were loved when we were unlovable, we are loved when we are unlovable, and we will be loved no matter how unlovable we become. This kind of incredible love shouldn’t just give us a warm fuzzy feeling. It shouldn’t just send us to a pew each Sunday or compel us to recite a prayer before we eat. It should swell inside of us like a storm cloud waiting to burst. It should burst. It should hit us like a hurricane that destroys what was never built to stand. When this mighty hurricane has come through, we should not be the same. We should stand on a new foundation of hope, faith, and love. (You get a gold star if you can guess which of these three is the greatest.) And this foundation should become the center of who we are, the root of our Splagcnizomai. Our compassion.

 

            Now that I’ve made everything sound all beautiful and poetic, I’ll let you in on a little truth: being compassionate is not easy. Having compassion is one thing. Displaying it is another. Displaying it when it is not reciprocated makes it even harder. Nothing kills me more than extending my hand to someone I love and watching them turn away. That hurts. So much. (But then I think about how God feels when I decide that I actually have life all figured out and I’m just going to put Him in a neat little box on my bedroom shelf because I can totally do this on my own.) There are days when I feel so burned out because I’m doing everything in my human power to make the world a more positive place, but then torrents of negativity overwhelm me. I come to the conclusion that I should just give in and give up. I’m too young to change the world, anyway. And being nice is overrated. I should just focus on myself and let everyone else solve their own problems. But then, the seed of compassion planted deep within my soul pokes its head out from the darkened soil. I see the suffering and brokenness around me. I realize that hatred and deceit will not fix anything. Nor will the fear of going out and making a difference. Only compassion. Only love gets the last word in the end. So by the grace of God, I muster up all the strength I have left and meditate on the words of Hebrews 6:10: “For God is not unjust; he will not forget your work and the love you have shown him as you have helped his people and continue to help them.” And honestly, I find myself a little bit addicted to loving people and all the pain it inflicts. Every once in a blue moon, I see the chain reaction working like dominoes; each one falls down in surrender to a force greater than itself, with much credit to the domino behind it.

 

            As you continue on your journey, let me leave you with a few last words from Rachel Scott: “I have this theory, that if one person can go out of their way to show compassion, a chain reaction will begin of the same.”

 

            Don’t be afraid. This kind of chain reaction has the power to change the world. But will it change you?

           

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?