For the last week, I have been sick… really sick. I thought I was just catching a cold, but before I knew it, I was laying in bed, wrapped in the covers, high on Nyquil, surviving on saltine crackers. (Not how I planned to spend the Thanksgiving holiday!) Just when I thought I was getting better, things took a turn for the worst. I couldn't get warm. I was constantly shivering. My head was pounding. And all my innards were sore from the painful coughing fits that lasted far too long. Never before I have been so aware of every.single.breath.  I had to breathe just right if I didn't want the coughing fit to take hold of my body. Every breath I took for about 24 hours was measured, shallow, calculating. It was exhausting trying to make sure every breath brought peace. 

Though I wish I could push the reset button to recover Thanksgiving with my family, I am looking forward to this season of Advent. I have never recognized the Advent season before, but it seems fitting to start it feeling rather breathless. 

I imagine that when Mary stood before the angel, chosen to carry the Light of the World into the earth, she was probably a little breathless. I imagine that when the shepherds finally arrived at the scene of Jesus birth, they might have been a little breathless. I imagine Joseph, staring at the son he didn't produce in full faith that Mary really did have a holy conception, must have been breathless. 

There are so many emotions wrapped up in the story of Christ's birth.

A child conceived out of wedlock.

The whispers of town folks and magnificent prophesies.

The doubts of Joseph followed by their reunion.

A wearying journey. No room indoors. 

The wondrous fear and joy of a newborn child. 

The astonished looks of shepherds told to come by a chorus of angels. 

Its all so strange. So emotional. So complex. Its so much like… life. 

On this December 1st, as I prepare my heart to celebrate Christmas, I am thankful for a God wrapped in flesh, who chose to enter this messy, messy world. I am thankful for a God who leaves me breathless with wonder at what might be next in the story.  

I am breathless. 

A few months ago I had the pleasure of preaching at Pastor Alise Barrymore's church, The Emmaus Community in Chicago Heights, IL. Though I did not preach a justice-themed service, I still wanted to share a portion of it with you all. The sermon is titled "Risking Restoration" from the story of Naaman in 2 Kings 5:1-14.  

May we all have the courage to Risk Restoration

Earlier this week, I wrote a post called Skipping Samaria. It is a challenge to our churches to continue taking care of our immediate communities and continue traveling to the ends of the earth, but to no longer skip over the under resourced communities around us.  I'd like to follow that post with a couple pointers on how to Enter Samaria. First I would point you to Christena Cleveland's blog post this week. She unpacks some of the class divisions that keep us separated, and gives practical advice for overcoming those divisions. Please take a moment to read, but promise you'll come back! 

Whether you are moving, visiting, or want to develop relationships inside Samaria, I want to share a couple thoughts with you. I hope this will help you enter Samaria well.  

1. Oftentimes when we go on a missions trip (near or abroad) we do so with the intention of "bringing Christ's love". There is often a desire to evangelize, to share the Good News, to be Christ's hands and feet in the world. Its a beautiful sentiment. But if not careful there can be an underlying assumption that Christ is not already there, with the people, in the people. Have you ever noticed how many churches are in poor communities!? If you go to Samaria, I would really encourage you to add one more word to the desire to share the Good News-- together. Let us share together the Good News. May there be room for every person present to share their faith. In its sharing may everyone be encouraged. May everyone be stretched. The sharing doesn't have to be unilateral.

Once upon a time, I worked for a short-term mission organization whose tagline is: See the face of God in the city. I love that. Go to Samaria. Be Christ's hands and feet right alongside others who are Christ's hands and feet. Participate in the good work already begun. May everyone's faith grow richly as a result.  

2. Talk through disillusionment. My husband works at a public high school in an under-resourced community. Every year, teachers fresh out of college arrive in order to have their loans forgiven, but also because they really want to have a positive impact on the kids. When they arrive and find it's not going to be an episode of Dangerous Minds or the Freedom Writers, disillusionment sets in. It is inevitable. Anytime we travel to a new space we have to bridge the gap between our expectations and reality. But talk through that disillusionment. Reflect on it. Don't let disillusionment turn into bitterness, anger, or even regret at going at all. We are human- in our beauty and in our brokenness. Don't let the brokenness stop you. 

3. Discover the whole community. Going to Samaria can be a great opportunity to move beyond the media coverage. Some of what you find will confirm the news stories, but at other times you will wonder why you've been exposed to so little. Spending time in Samaria will give you an opportunity to learn about white flight, high rises and redlining. But you might also learn about civil rights movements, church events, cultural festivals, and the public gems of the neighborhood. Being there is an opportunity to see how it has all come together, to appreciate its history and while working towards a beautiful future. 

Whether you are thinking about moving to Samaria, working in Samaria, or just visiting, I would ask that you not skip it. I would ask that you enter Samaria well- that you share your faith and allow the community to share, too. I would ask that you enter Samaria knowing that its possible disillusionment might hit hard, but that you can make it. You can adjust. You can handle the brokenness. I would ask that you enter Samaria determined to see it as a whole community, and hold both its stories of tragedy and triumph.

May we all grow as a result of entering Samaria.  

Before ascending into heaven in Acts 1, Jesus had some very specific words for The Way at verse 8, "But you shall receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you shall be witnesses to Me in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth." This is instruction we have largely taken very seriously. We are active participants in our Jerusalem- the communities where we've chosen to live. We are involved in local churches and the wider community. We do not forsake the gathering of ourselves together whether in worship services, small groups, or intimate gathering of friends. We volunteer. We run for local office. We attend school games.  We shop locally. We make sure our communities are safe, healthy, strong. We also have gone to the ends of the earth. We raise the funds for missions trips. We save up to go to conferences. We explore when out of the country for business. We make the world more than a little paint on a globe, we make it real, close. We are in Jerusalem. We travelled the world, but what about Samaria?

Are you skipping Samaria? 

You have been to many of our 7 continents. Some lands you've travelled to multiple years in a row. You have fallen in love with various cultures in places where you stick out like a sore thumb. You enjoy the food, the lifestyle, the learning, the people. But you travel over highways to avoid driving through the poor communities right here. You lock the doors to make sure you keep its elements out. You have been in dangerous communities around the world, but did you skip Samaria? 

You have lived in multiple countries, as a student and as an adult. You went there full of excitement. You were a listener and learner. You sought out mentors, teachers, and friends who would be willing to show you the ropes, explore the beauty, find the treasures. Yet, poor communities in your own backyard are shunned, ignored, visited only when in need of help, service, missions. The world has become a place of learning, but have you skipped Samaria? 

You have lots of pictures of small dark children with dirty faces in far away lands on your desk, but are there any people of color in your wedding pictures? your family pictures? your Facebook pictures? your church pictures? Do you know children of color, but somehow missed developing relationships with peers of color? You have travelled the world and found people to love, but did you skip Samaria?  

Samaria is the place that has been historically rejected. It is the place full of "those" people- the ones who are unclean and impure. Samaria is filled with people who worship a little differently than you. It is the place that is unfamiliar, not because it's separated by an ocean but instead a highway, railroad tracks, or bridge. Samaria is the place you heard about growing up- the place you never want to go, where you don't belong, and no matter how 'low' you go- you never have to worry about ending up there. Samaria is the place that falls lower in our hierarchy of good and bad places to live.  In America, Samaria is usually defined by class and/or race. If the door was closed, just me and you, you could tell me where Samaria is in your small part of the country. 

Its true that Samaria is not a perfect place. Its vices are not well hidden nor well contained. But Samaria is more than the sum of its vices. Samaria is historical. It did not pop-up out of nowhere. Its community members didn't take a vote and decide only the poor and just one race are allowed. Poor communities around the world have a story and so does Samaria. It is rich with the stories of who we are as a people- a whole people who chose division. There are stores of pain, deception, violence but also of triumph, movements, and beauty.

Samaria is filled with real people, young and old, hopeful and tired, brilliant, educated and uneducated. It is filled with people who have dreams and those whose dreams have long died. It is filled with people who laugh and cry. It is filled with people who worship and seek spiritual guidance- some just as you do, and others very differently. It is filled with real people.

Samaria has an expertise all its own. It is not culture-less. It has a language, a being, s sense of self, an identity. It claims its space in the world. It has dance and music, language and clothes, hobbies and pastimes. It has a way of communicating, of celebrating, of mourning. It lives, moves, breathes. Samaria has something to teach the world, if the world would only listen.

God is in Samaria, at the margins, with people, and we can be a witness of all of this, if we would stop skipping Samaria.