Windows And Mirrors

"Look with pity, O heavenly Father, upon the people in this land who live with injustice, terror, disease, and death as their constant companions. Have mercy upon us. Help us to eliminate our cruelty to these our neighbors. Strengthn those who spend their lives establlishing equal opportunities for all. And grant that every one of us may enjoy a fair portion of the riches of this land; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen"

I recently attended a traveling art exhibit called Windows and Mirrors, 45 unique 4-foot by 6-foot panels created by artists memorializing Afghan civilian casualties, alongside images about living with war collected from Afghan schoolchildren.

These paintings and murals and children's drawings moved my heart in remorse for the human condition, especially the condition of Jesus' Church, in ways in which I struggle to put into words. We, as a Church, have lost sight of God's heart. While you and I continue our endless, hateful, and pointless debates of the ways of pacifism or the ways of just-war, thousands upon thousands of innocent civilians are being slaughtered and orphaned in the name of freedom, democracy, and the pursuit of happiness. 

You and I have emptied our hearts of compassion and empathy, replacing it with mounds of theology and doctrine and hard feelings and bitter tastes.

We serve a God full of compassion.

Our God is love.

Our God is an all consuming fire.

Our God is jealous.

Our God is mercy.

Our God is hiding his eyes.

"When you spread out your hands, I will hide My eyes from you; even though you make many prayers, I will not hear. Your hands are full of blood" (Isaiah 1:15). 

“There are six things the LORD hates, seven that are detestable to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked schemes, feet that are quick to rush into evil, a false witness who pours out lies and a man who stirs up dissension among brothers.” (Proverbs 6:16-19 ephasis mine)

It is only by God's jealous mercy that you and I can still stand before Him as children and lovers.

The blood of innocent men stains our hands. It colors our clothes. It hardens our hearts. 

We need not examine the sheer mass of civilian men, women, and children this war has killed to find the crying heart of Jesus, but into the eyes of the broken widow; the tears of orphaned children.

Imagine with me a normal evening with our families. We just ate dinner and are beginning to get ourselves ready for sleep. Mom and Dad are planning their next morning's clothes, preparing their breifcases and purses, while your brother or sister is hogging the sink space brushing their teeth. Everything is normal. This is the atmosphere of a normal night. Nothing is out of the ordinary, when a bright and blinding light pairs with a tremendous deafening blast that shakes you to the ground. Flames engulf the room around you and smoke fills your lungs. You shreek in terror at the sight of your sibling torn to shreds in a pool of blood on the debris covered lenolium. You are able to make it out of the bathroom to find mom and dad in similar states of horror. Terrified, you stumble over stones and debris, out of the house, blood and puke staining your pajamas. You are alone of all your peers and of all your family. 

This is the experience of hundreds of thousands of children throughout the Afghan villages. 

I do not know the cost of war. I have never experienced anything hard in my life. I am fortunate. Everything I need has been handed to me.

But we follow a Savior who commands us to give all of this up for the least of these.

We follow a Healer who calls us to be his hands and feet- hands that heal and feet that deliver hope.

We follow an innocent man who took upon himself the cruel violence of men so that we might share this mercy with the poor and destitue of our communities.

Jesus weeps for those experiencing injustice in Afghanistan, but even more so, He weeps for the heartlessness of those of us who read writtings like this unmoved. Who read numbers like 28, 360 casualties and continue their lives in apathy. 

I do not know the cost of discipleship. I have not sold all of my possessions and given the money to the poor (Matt 19:21). I have never met an orphan or a widow, let alone cared for them (James 1:27). I do not claim perfection, nor do I profess knowledge or wisdom. I can only ask that you join me in an adventure of love. An odyssey to the center of Jesus' heart. 

Take my hand. 

Let us awaken our souls to those around us.

Let us break the starring compitition we have been playing with ourselves and give our lives for the sake of love. 

Let us work towards servanthood.

Let us trade the American dream for the cries of the least of these amoung us.

Let us find our own Afghanistans.

Let us look through the windows of compassion into the eyes of widows and orphans in war torn lands.

Let us look into mirrors and examine our own hearts and lives.