Frozen feet,
awe-struck
silent streams,
flowing
from my eyes.
Right before my face,
a road sign,
of beautifully abundant,
G L O R I O U S G R A C E .
I couldn’t believe that nearly three years later, I’m standing here in Manila, The Philippines; his picture staring back at me…
It was pictures like these, my brother surrounded by his beautiful little middle school students doing service projects, that stirred something deep within my soul.
It was spring of 2008, and I was sitting at my desk in my cozy little Portland State studio. Though here I must admit, I don’t remember it well. In fact, the honest truth is that I don’t remember many things from that time in my life particularly “well”. That’s what happens when you live life in the fast lane, from one night out at the bar with co-workers to the next, waking up at the last possible moment to get to class or finish that paper, and then doing it all again the next day. All with a headache. Because, well, you may have just had a little too much the night before. Again.
Life was about
just
getting
by.
(And that’s why now,
I’m continually praying for
drastic
t r a n s f o r m a t i o n ,
a renewal of my body,
and a renewal of my mind.)
Chances are I was in such a hot-mess state when I saw his recently posted pictures; surely I was at the end of my rope. Months away, graduating was my only goal. What was next, I had no clue. At the time, I remember feeling like I would be lucky to just make it out.
Days were an exhausting daze of whose heart was broken by who, who’s cheating on who, who’s sick with what horrifying whatever, who’s strung out on what, who’s moving away because of their drug-trip shame, who stole from who, who just got out of jail, who got kicked out of school, who got kicked out of their apartment, etc. etc. etc.
Life felt dark;
it felt so
e m p t y.
It seemed as though everyone around me was angry about something, seeing all kinds of injustices everywhere and in anything- from a lack of bathroom stalls to the chopping down of trees. Okay, and sure, bigger issues than that, but everyone feeling utterly powerless because it was all the fault of the people in power. Blaming “the man”, was always a popular idea, and a particularly strong theme throughout my years in college. (The final years of the Bush administration, in a very left leaning city, mind you.) But beyond the political atmosphere, the world of academia I was saturated in tended to thrive on these life paradigms based on marxist theory; the basic idea that there are the haves and the have nots, and unless you were the bourgeoisie, your only course of action was to protest in the street, and maybe blog about it. (Or in a trendy little town like PDX, better yet, you can create your very own zine.)
Don’t get me wrong, there can be power in these things. If there weren’t, I wouldn’t be writing right now. But the thing is, solutions like these are temporary band-aids to a much bigger problem.
I sensed all that at the time, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it; I couldn’t quite put my finger on the *root* of the issue.
My brother Wyatt is honestly about as firry as they come in many situations. But with him I noticed, there was often something different in his approach. There was something different in his demonstrations, and after awhile, it got to me. He saw injustice, and he often had that same kind of anger I was seeing all around me. But with him I noticed, there was a different kind of fire behind it. When he spoke to me, he spoke of things that were at first very hard to understand. It was hard because he spoke to me of truth. Hard truths that I didn’t want to hear. Like how I was just as much a part of the problem as anyone else, and that it was all because of this thing called sin. Maybe he didn’t tell me that directly, but it was in-between his words. It was the message he was preaching with his life; his self-proclaimed sinful, but redemptive life.
And then there were his pictures…
The pictures I saw that afternoon, sitting at my desk…
I remember one in particular that was taken of a little girl at the orphanage where he was doing construction. “Baby Jessica,” the only caption.
Her hair messy, but her smile so big, and so pure.
Like I said, I don’t remember well, but I think I may have cried. In fact, I’m pretty sure of it.
Seeing the work that he was doing, and having the understanding that he was bringing change to the world in tangible ways, it got to me. It really got to me.
Traveling to all theses amazing places, seeing all his amazing pictures, and thinking he was kind of crazy for believing what he believed, but all the while being totally awe-struck and fascinated, and utterly convicted by it all.
That was what set me down a new road.
Or now that I think of it, maybe it wasn’t even new.
I heard once that, “We all want progress, but if you’re on the wrong road, progress means doing an about-turn and walking back to the right road; in that case, the man who turns back soonest is the most progressive. (Mr. Clive Stapels Lewis)
So maybe that was it. Perhaps it was then that I began an about-face.
F a s t f o w a r d ~
Last year when I told my brother about The World Race, he checked out the website and after reading some blogs, discovered that some racers had been sent to the same orphanage that worked at a couple of years back. You know, the one with baby Jessica. It was, after all, in part financially supported by the school that he worked for in Seoul.
I thought about how amazing it would be to go to the Philippines. I thought about how amazing it would be if I was sent to the same place that my brother worked at; the same place with baby Jessica who stirred in me a passion to reach for more out of this life.
God has so blessed the work at Kids International Ministries Manila, that it has expanded to encompass another orphanage on the more southern island of Mindinao; the location I was blessed with serving at last month.
I never got to meet baby Jessica, though some of my squad mates did! Who knows, maybe someday I will.
I did however, have the blessing of staying a couple of precious nights at the guest housing in Manila, where I saw it. My brother’s picture was there before me on the wall.
I think it was that picture, the one of my brother and his co-worker (who I had the pleasure of getting to know during my time in Korea), standing opposite him, I think maybe that is what this was about. In that moment, God gave to me a precious road sign of glorious, abundant grace, telling me to keep pressing forward; telling me that its okay to now; I’m on the right path now that I’ve turned around…
~The first picture of “Baby Jessica” that captured my heart.
~And “Baby Jessica” now, three years later with squadmate, Angie Blattner.
*Thanks to:
-My brother, Wyatt Wilcox, for the early photo of “Baby Jessica”.
–Angie Blattner for the recent photos of “Baby Jessica”
–Erica Kaufman for helping to shoot my special message video!
