It’s so weird to live in this world.
There is a bizarre tension to care deeply about the persecution in the Middle East, and also about Netflix’s new show, Love is Blind. It is disorienting to pray and plead for our brothers and sisters oppressed for their faith, and then go explore the very city in which they are co-existing alongside their oppressors.
Is it even okay to have fun when there is so much suffering in our communities and churches and world? Am I allowed to love things like coffee shops and books and card games in a world plagued by sin and sickness?
I live in a deep awareness of both pain and joy, wholeheartedly with both feet in, and oftentimes in the same hour. It can feel wrong and cringe-worthy to find joy here; the dichotomy can be exhausting.
Knowing what we know and seeing what we see, we are so deeply connected to human suffering and the pursuit of setting wrongs right. We care deeply for and stay close to the brokenhearted, the hungry, and the hurting (Psalm 34:18). We claim a front-row seat to God’s work in His people.
AND STILL, we are little humans in a big world. A world that is beautiful, with beautiful people, and beautiful delights to be seen, tasted and enjoyed. And when we tell ourselves we are only here to serve His bottom-line and basically just suffer until we die and finally get to Heaven, then of course, embracing pleasure is out of the question.
BUT, there is time to lean into sacrifice, dying to self and service. AND, there is time to jump up and down for adventure, laughter, and joy. We are part of God’s plan to heal the world; AND, we are sons and daughters in His family. We are not just the distributors of God’s abundant mercies, but we are also the recipients.
We are neither blind nor bound by pain. Sure, it casts long shadows, but God is in us and among us and FOR US. Sometimes, life is great and sometimes it’s painful beyond recognition, and yet here we are: still standing in the juxtaposition. Here for both.
I live in this tension: I wander aimlessly through the cities and villages, praying incessantly for my brothers and sisters. Yet, I wander with camera around my neck, yearning to see and shoot and share.
We live in two entirely different worlds, one marked by privilege and one by poverty; we have both Good News and good times (thanks, Jen Hatmaker). And, although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of overcoming it (thanks, Hellen Keller).
So, I do my thing: say my prayers and capture these photographs. I see joy and pain, and both are God ordained. I want to show you both:
Easy to say, we loved Georgia. The Cartographers are still going strong – comprised of Elijah, Hannah, Ian and myself.
Heading east from Turkey, we started the month in Batumi, a city nestled between the Caucasus Mountains and the Black Sea.
Georgia was another open month, full of opportunity & dependence on the Lord’s guidance.
As always, I was overjoyed and comforted to be near the water.
Batumi proved to be diverse: old cobblestone back streets, quiet suburbs & neighborhoods, and the cold & windy seafront.
One day, we decided to take a bus into the mountains; we didn’t have a destination in mind, just a desire to be surrounded by snowy caps. We encountered a sweet man on the street who led us to his friends at the bus stop, who guided us toward the village of Keda.
We arrived with no plan, so we just started walking.
We were utterly captivated by the beauty surrounding us.
Keda was a small town – the population not more than 1,500 – known for their wineries. Unfortunately for us, it was the dead of winter and the vineyards were frozen.
But, the people were kind & generous & welcoming. We hitchhiked quite a few rides to get us around town, making friends along the way.
Back in Batumi, we made ourselves a *day tour of religious buildings*! Starting with the Holy Mother Virgin Nativity Cathedral.
Then, the Jewish Synagogue.
Onto the Batumi Mosque (although currently under renovation).
And lastly, the St. Nicolas Orthodox Church. The religious tolerance in Batumi was surprising and impressive.
Then, a dream came true – it SNOWED! I spent my day with numb fingers, a full memory card, snow in my pockets, and so much JOY in my heart.
We loved Batumi. So much so that I maybe slipped in a prayer for a tapeworm so I could keep eating the best food we’ve had on the Race. Let it be known, I definitely paid for that moment of ignorance later.
Then, we continued east to say HEY to Kutaisi.
Closer to the mountains and further from the sea, this city had VIEWS!
And, an impressive art scene with statues scattered around the streets.
And a beautiful big park in the center of the city….
…where I impulsively bought a mini chess set and instantly made a friend!
There are markets strewn with local produce.
And my favorite seller, who gave me mint tea…
…and churchkhela! This traditional candy of strung nuts dipped in grape must.
Kutaisi had people living on almost every street corner, so we bought a bag of sweet bread and set off to make new friends. Seeing our friends day after day instilled a new hope; this world isn’t as big and scary as we sometimes make it out to be; we get to love our neighbors right where we are.
Then, the tour of religious buildings continued!
With the beautiful, Bagrati Cathedral, sitting atop the hill.
Then, the Church of Annunciation.
And even a church in a tree!
Our open month in Georgia was quick, yet full of joy and beauty, juxtaposing the harsh reality of cold winters on the streets. As always, it is so hard to leave our friends (like the owner of our favorite Turkish restaurant).
After leaving Kutaisi (without a laptop…), we kept moving east toward Tbilisi to meet up with the squad for debrief & our parents for the Parent Vision Trip. Part two comin’ in hot!
Join me in prayer: Lord, thank you that you are a compassionate God. You know us intimately – you see our pain and our joy – and you love us the same. You stay close to the brokenhearted and you rejoice with us in praise; you see our suffering and our smiles, and your glory is revealed in both. You are with us, among us, and for us… and all we can do is thank you. May you bless us and keep us.
