I am laying in a comfortable bed, a fan blowing on my face and the sounds of Kathmandu out my window. I am in Nepal. I am safe. I am a little tired, and warmer than I would like, but I am happy.
Two days ago, I was sitting in the Istanbul airport, eating some Popeyes Chicken, looking at souvenirs, rubbing Peppermint oil on my face, and generally enjoying my 7 hour layover in the swanky airport.
Some of us got Starbucks, some of us got ice cream, some of us took naps at our gate in the international terminal.
We boarded our plane to Qatar without a hitch. I remember getting a text from my dad to “be careful” in the middle east. I remember feeling completely safe.
We arrived in Kathmandu hours later. We slept for most of the day, ate yummy food, and enjoyed a day of rest.
But this morning, I woke up to a flood of notifications.
Terrorist attack, Istanbul airport, international terminal, 8 hours after I left….
I was shocked. It was too close for comfort. Accounts of the attack mention terminals right next to mine, prayer rooms I walked by, bathrooms I visited. I look at the pictures and I know where I was standing just 8 hours before.
8 hours before, when these people had already planned their attack and were waiting to strike. I could have been one of their victims.
But God was looking out for His children. My entire squad boarded the plane blissfully ignorant of the imminent threat.
We made it to Kathmandu. How many people never made it to their destination? To their families, friends, and children? Too many. God is so good. He gave me the gift of another day, and the opportunity to serve more people.
And because of this, I feel the need to make something clear.
Istanbul is an EXTREMELY ethnically diverse airport. It is a passage between Europe, Asia, and Africa, and naturally, many Islamic people frequent it on a daily basis.
It has been said that ISIS might be culprit, and in America, that means we make the jump straight into Islam. Islam is to blame. Islam is evil.
But I want to challenge you to reconsider these assumptions. These terrorists aimed to kill as many people as possible, including Muslims.
When I worked with the Muslim people in Moria, they spoke of ISIS. They call them “daish,” which is an Arabic word for the scum on the bottom of my shoe.
The Islamic people view them as an enemy and would rather die than to surrender and serve ISIS. This sentiment is one of the major reasons for the Refugee crisis.
In the Istanbul attack, Islamic families were hurt and are mourning the same as Christians, Buddhists, Sikhs, Hindus, Athiests, Jews, and all the other religions that happened to be in the melting pot that is the Istanbul airport.
I’ve said it for my whole race. People are people, no matter who they are or where they are from. There is so much more to them than te language they speak and the country they were born in.
Ultimately we battle not against flesh and blood, but powers and princpalities.
The enemy is no man, or group of men. It is not Islam, or even ISIS. The enemy is Satan, and He is present in a sinful world.
I know this is controversial, and I hope you will hear my heart in this.
Instead of getting caught up in the politics of this tragedy, mourn with those who are mourning. Feel the devastating loss and the pain of ALL those that were harmed.
See that we are all humans, and unite in peace, if only for a moment.
My life is worth no more than an Islamic woman who ran for her life under gunfire. My life is worth no more than the man in the wheelchair left for dead in the attack. We are all created by God, and we all need Jesus.
This is a tragedy, plain and simple. And that comes before any political argument.
I am safe. I am comfortable. I will go to bed tonight to the sound of rain, barking dogs, and laughter.
But not all of us are so lucky.
