Blessed and Dispossessed

I am reading a commentary on justice in the Old Testament that talks about Jesus being partial to the dispossessed. Some excerpts:

"It is significant that the story of Israel's birth (and therefore our birth as a community of faith) begins not in a moment of nationalistic triumph but in a context of slavery and oppression...This portrait of numbing oppression sets not only the social context but the theological context for the events of Exodus. It is not in Israel's own resources that power can be found to oppose the oppressive power of the empire (pharaoh), but it is in the power of God. Therein lies hope that seem by human terms to lie beyond redemption."

God's identification with Hebrew slaves in Egypt reveals a fundamental partiality of God towards the dispossessed. Exodus is but the beginning of a long list of canonical witnesses to God's special care for the poor, the hungry, the oppressed, the exploited, the suffering."

This helps me remember again why He is my God. I've been searching for a word that describes my recent situation. Dispossessed is the right word.

Am I blessed? Oh yes. I just look at this computer I am typing on, my warm bed, my full cupboard and the fullness of God I am experiencing as I study His word and I know I am well kept under His wing.

But my reality is that I am also dispossessed. And when that sad reality grates on my soul, it's nice to remember that God isn't a god for the victorious Christians, the ones who write books about praying your way to happiness or changing your life daily, He's a God for those who can't help themselves. He's a God for those who are still in exile, still waiting for the promised land.

He's a God for the dispossessed.

He's a God for me.

And I am blessed to be one of His dispossessed.

I have a problem

Yup, the first step toward recovery is admitting you have a problem, so I'm doing just that. I have a problem. I can't write when forced to. When I want to write, I can't shutup. But when I am forced to by school, all of sudden it's time to eat, watch TV, surf facebook, talk on the phone, re-arrange the furniture, or anything else. Why is that??? I hate it.

I know what I should write. I have a plan for how this paper will go. But I am stubborn with myself. I have to admit it - my life is unmanageable when it comes to writing papers. And to top it off, I'm kind of angry that this is assigned over Thanksgiving. I can't give thanks when I'm trapped inside being forced to write academic papers.

And this is only the first of 3 due in the next two weeks....help me, Jesus.

How do you know it's a love letter?

Somewhere along the way, I picked up the idea that the Bible is "God's love letter to His people." While I don't think this isn't true, I am realizing I have allowed that idea to limit my view of the Scripture. It is so many things. It is the epic story. The story of a God and His people. The story of God declaring Who He Is over generations. The story of Him expanding and further expanding His dominion and glory.

Dissonance

Be happy and be haunting. Slip into that perfect disguise that will advertise who you really are. Get sexy and be sure to set out plenty of Kit Kats for the kids. Take a break from the war on terror and terrify someone to death. Go on, have another mojito and a Mars Bar chaser. Party hard but stay out of the party-central Castro. It's Halloween, the most dizzily dissonant holiday of the year.

-Steve Winn From the San Francisco Chronicle.

I think this hits the nail on the head. How can we be for something and against something? For God has put us in charge of small things (national holidays) and He will put us in charge of greater things (worldwide causes) only based on how we respond responsibly to our charge over the little things. That's food for thought...

A Baby Refugee

The people wanted a mighty Messiah. They got a baby refugee. They wanted a powerful king to take over Rome. They got a wandering homeless man. He could have saved the world with his mighty power, but he did it through his ridiculous love. The power of God lies in the brokenness of Jesus: naked, cursed, spit upon, with birds picking at his flesh as he died the rotten death of a criminal. -Shane Claiborne

Bearing Burdens

Sometimes I remember what it's like to bear burdens.

I carry a really old Toshiba laptop to class every day so I can take notes on it. I carry my regular backpack with my books and binder in it and then I carry my laptop bag with my laptop in it on one shoulder. It is probably 15lbs or more and I was walking with it today when I realized that to other people it probably registers as 5-10 lbs hanging off the end of my hand, but it's heavy enough to be painful to my back and neck. It feels to heavy to me, but it probably looks light to others. Isn't that the way?

I probably wouldn't look at someone and offer them help unless I saw them visibly stagger under the weight of their burden but I realized today as I'm walking that I've gotten pretty good at smiling despite carrying a heavy burden. And not staggering so it doesn't appear as though anything is wrong. I'm a survivor. And not in the thats-my-name-because-I-did-something-impressive way. More in the sense that my default position in life, my position that I set into when things are tough, is that of a survivor.