Dear Weston,
Yep, it’s me again:
God. I know that you like to ask
other people questions in order to get to a point, so let’s see how you like
it.
Are you still glad you
left?
You don’t have to answer that question. You certainly don’t have to record your
thoughts in a blog. You can go watch an
episode of The Office, go back to
bed, eat, or sit and be mindless. It
comes down to a choice. Do you desire
more? Do you want to see with eyes of
the Father?
Your jumble is a head.
Easy, sleep has not been.
Thoughts like darts with piercing tips, but not hitting anything in
order to stick. Tick by the days in Togo
go. Close to seven and the basic
question of, “What are we doing?” is still being asked. Your leadership brain
won’t shut off. Your desire to step back
and stay out is an undesirable chore.
The irregularity in action throws you off balance, and when balance is a
goal, wavering feels like backwards momentum.
It comes down to a choice.
Your mind’s “Take In” switch is permanently set to “More.” While that programming is what led you on the
Race, it’s not the easiest to live with.
If you hadn’t chosen to lead, you could get away with thinking about
yourself more. If you hadn’t read
“Tortured for Christ” this morning, you wouldn’t be reeling with the realities
of persecution. If you hadn’t prayed to
be wrecked, you wouldn’t be having your internals become externalized.
I’m so glad you left.
Your mind throbs from lack of understanding, but the pain
induced by realization eventually subsides.
Your thoughts are stilled as you realize “standard” living conditions
aren’t percentages but are people.
Your chest beats for glimpses of the Church as the Bride,
and thus you’re learning your life’s outcry.
Your brain ponders, “What do they have that I don’t?” And your paradoxical thought is met with a
sigh,
As you internally interrogate, as you have many times so
far, “Because I was born in America….”
You won’t be the same. You can’t. You can’t allow yourself to settle for mental
mediocrity or emotional constipation. Your
life is going to be a race. You’ll be
out of breath panting at times, or, at other points, coasting downhill,
naturally flowing heel to toe, heel to toe.
Don’t stop moving. You’ll see
things, like the slave castle, that push the limits of despair and
imagination. You’ll hear facts, like
that some children don’t know their birthdays let alone celebrate it, that
redefine what is Western and what is a norm for the world. You’ll watch babies that don’t cry because
their nurture teaches them that no one will pick them up and hold them.
Keep seeing. Keeping
reading. Keep learning. Keep growing.
Because my pathway of hope is not eroded by despair, but is defined by
joy.
It’s the “tale as old as time.” Cars won’t bring happiness any faster. Spouses are as flawed as you. Food fattens, liquor loses, and drugs deafen
the still small voice that beckons, “Come.”
I have for you “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give
you a hope and a future.”
Following Christ is not following a book. It’s not going to church. It’s not talking about God. It’s not just a lifestyle. It’s not just historically evident or merely
evidenced through testimony. It’s not
about sparring between mental mastery and emotional frailties. It’s not about hearing a sermon and going,
“Hmmm, that’s good,” and leaving it at that.
I am hope. I am
alive. What does that mean for you? Please don’t hesitate to ask.
In me,
I Am
PS: Next time you
have the chance to stay or go, leave.
You’ll be glad you did.
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