Ask me for the most compelling Bible verse that sets my heart a flutter for issues of social justice and the answer may surprise you. There are a number of verses in the Bible which promote giving to the poor. caring for the orphan, setting the captive free. There is no shortage of verses about crossing cultures, welcoming strangers, and honoring the humanity of our enemies. While I commit myself to studying and living out these important instances of loving others, there is one passage of Scripture that really lights my flame for its beauty and revelation: 

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was nothing made. In Him was life and the life was the light of men. And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it. And the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth.”

— John 1:1-4,14

Can we first pause at the beauty of this passage? "In the beginning was the Word" … "and the darkness did not comprehend it" … "The Word was made flesh and dwelt among us" … "full of grace and truth." Ah… I could revel in the beauty all day.

But its also the revelation that keeps my fire for justice issues flaming.  The imagery of the Divine, of words stretching as they wrap themselves into the confining space of human flesh and squeezing through a physical labor of blood, sweat and other fluids, I'm sure. All to enter this world of humanity, of dirt, of messiness, of division, of heartbreak, of rejection. How must it have been for the Divine to look on the world not from a holy place above the fray, but eye to eye, quite literally with skin in the game, watching the ways we treat each other, divide ourselves up, create hierarchies, build towers of babel unto ourselves. How different it must have felt from home, from golden walkways and angelic beings, from hallelujah all the time.

But the Word didn't turn away. Didn't turn away from that ragtag group of disciples, passionate but often completely misunderstanding the mission. Didn't turn away from men or women. Didn't turn away from Jews or Gentiles, even those most unholy Samaritans or those oppressive Romans. Didn't turn away from the sick or the afflicted. Even the dead received an audience with the Divine. The Word crashed through social barriers, religious convention, and everyone's expectations.

Thats why I fight for justice issues. Because the Divine modeled for me far beyond words, even words that I love, that I can't turn away from the messiness. The Word chose to dwell among us, but far from building an impressive throne right here, the Word wept, and experienced a range of emotions, rejections, disappointments and awe known to the human condition. The Word made flesh full of grace and truth, right here in our midst, wrestling with the issues of that day. Thats why I must wrestle with the issues of today. If the Divine didn't turn away, how could I?   

God incarnate. God with us. God among us. What better reason could my heart desire?

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.