This week I sat across the lunch table from a friend, and as we discussed what seems to be on everyone’s minds—as we talked about bombings and refugee crises—he asked, “What’s the point?”
Why do we live in a world that feels more saturated by hatred than anything else? Why does life often hurt so badly? And why do our lives, as Christians, sometimes feel no different than others?
That afternoon I helped a single mother, an immigrant, load her 3 children into the backseat of an almost broken down car outside of my church, and although she and I speak different languages, I saw it in her eyes—tell me that you care.
Tell me that you care for immigrants who are simply desperate for a safe place to exist. Tell me that our lives, although different than yours, matter. Tell me that when you look at us you see very real systematic racism and class systems. Tell me that you don’t chalk us up as just a danger or a drain on the system.
Tell me that you are pro-life. Tell me that you care just as much about the babies after they are born. Tell me that you don’t dismiss them as thugs or welfare weight or the kind of people who shouldn’t live in your neighborhood.
Tell me that you care about the homeless man on the corner. Tell me that you don’t serve him on a mission trip but step over him without a glance every other day. Tell me that you care about the orphan in Tanzania. Tell me that you don’t go and take pictures with him but return to your air conditioning and your cups of coffee without a second thought.
Tell me that this church is not just a building you sit in on Sundays. Tell me that this is who you are. Tell me that you, like your Jesus, care about what is right so passionately that you go faithfully live it rather than simply telling the rest of us that we are wrong. Tell me that you choose kindness over rightness.
Show me that you love your welfare-dependent, substance-addicted, God-rejecting neighbors as yourself.
Just—just tell me that you love people who are different than you, more than you dismiss them.
And maybe then I’ll see your Jesus.
Maybe then I’ll see a point. Maybe then I’ll see Christians whose lives are different.
Maybe I’ll see a perspective that reflects a Kingdom, lives that are a refuge, and courage that goes against the current.
This, my friends, is why I go.
Through the World Race, I choose to abandon worldly possessions and a traditional lifestyle.
I choose to go and love people who are different than me rather than to reject them.
I choose a Kingdom.
If you have any questions about this journey to 11 countries or would like to learn how to support me, please let me know.
I love you all,
Brooke Morton
(931)205-3573
