Hello from DC

So, I haven't stopped posting for lack of exciting events; it's October in an election year and I'm a college student in our nation's capital, we're in the middle of what's being called the worst economic crisis since the Great Depression, I've begun a new job and new classes, and I continue to learn new things as I process two trips abroad. Updates abound.

But, in such a public forum, writing about these things seems a little silly. From abroad, I could write to keep you informed; from America I can just call you (read: if you want to know what's new with me, call me)!

Instead, I want to post about posting. That is, "how to tell a story." My good friend and fellow study abroad-er wrote that blog post after returning from Ghana, and it resonated with me. She wrote, "...I hope this blog has not just been a place to reinforce these images. I hope I have been successful in critically examining myself, and I hope you can critically read my stories as well. Call me out on them! And if I don't explain enough, tell me. Because in the end, if unchecked, we turn Africa into 'other.' And so we fail to truly see ourselves." 

Why is it easier to write about Africa than about DC? First, because it's foreign-- there are things I can tell to make you laugh (chickens riding with me on taxis, cows crossing highways, cars getting stuck on mud). But second, because I'm able to detach from it. It's new and different and exciting, and in some ways seems make believe. It's easier to write about people's lives when you understand less about them. A few weeks ago I heard someone say, "When you've been somewhere a month, you want to write a book about it. When you've been there for a year, you want to write an article. After 5 years, you don't want to write anything."

That's certainly been true for me! Sure there was some introspection before posting blogs from Uganda ("how will this be read from America, what stereotypes am I perpetuating or creating, how can I respect the cultures I'm coming across"), but in the end, it was easy to post because I could go about my day as if I were watching a play rather than people's lives.

All of this to say, I'm ever aware of how my reporting and story telling from Uganda and Cairo might misrepresent reality in those places. And I echo my friend's request to be called out on stories and challenged with questions. I take power from the people I met (who, in some cases, had no power to give) every time I tell their stories, and I want to steward that power well. 

In the meantime, I'll think about posting something about DC. Maybe. :)

Keep on Running

Coming to you from D.C. now, a shameless plug. You should check out Rob Krogh's new CD: "Keep on Running" which has recently been released! 

Rob's one of the worship leaders at my home church. He's got good, God-focused lyrics, "get stuck in your head" melodies, and He loves Jesus. I think his music's great. But you be the judge.

Visit www.robkrogh.com!

Listen!

Now you know how Uganda sounds.

And you know what was playing the first time I danced at a host-family event in Uganda. Lucky for me, no pictures were taken. 

Sudanese government violence

This from the BBC, on yesterday's violence by Sudanese government troops in a refugee camp in the Darfur region. 

Check it out and join me in prayer.

God of what?

So there's this song that I like.

In my "updates" blog from Cairo, I promised a few posts devoted to the trip as well as some of my "processing" of everything from vocation to refugee policy to Jesus. Being that I think the last of these is most important, I'll start with it. This post can, in no way, summarize all the ways that Jesus has shown up to me through the Uganda and Cairo trips, but it's a start.

Anyway, back to the song. I heard it first in Uganda, the day after conducting interviews with lots of people displaced by the war in the North. Singing the first verse, "You're the God of this city, You're the King of these people, You're the Lord of this nation, You Are," was weird enough as I remembered the 100 people with personal stories of rebel violence. But continuing, "Greater things have yet to come, and greater things are still to be done in this city," was even worse...it quickly became more of a prayer ("Greater things have yet to come...please?") than a declaration.

But it is a declaration--a truth promised by the Lord in the New Testament that's given credibility by His repeated faithfulness in the Old Testament. God is bringing about His Kingdom, and so greater things are yet to come in our cities and in our lives.

OK, so, fast forward to this week, when my worship leader at church lets us know that we'll playing the song in worship today. He says he's thinking about changing "city" to something else, like "place." Given my church's suburban context, I followed his logic--"city" may not feel very relevant to our congregation. But I thought we should leave the song be as written (and in the end, we did). Why?

If the brokenness of a "city" seems foreign to the suburban crowd, they can think of Kampala and Cairo and, this week, Tiblisi and Beijing, and pray that God would show himself in those cities.

But in Matthew, Jesus calls us a city (on a hill) too, after saying that we should be salt and light to a tasteless and dark world. We (as individuals, but especially as the church) are supposed to be a city. So we can pray for our own body, and proclaim that God reigns over our city.

Which we should be doing, especially as our church is in the process of deciding whether to leave a denomination that's gotten more and more heretical in recent years. What's a better time to sing about the Lord's authority over us? And, especially as our church's located in a neighborhood with significant challenges. Businesses have left and are leaving and our school district is in jeopardy of being taken over by the state. What's a better time than to pray for the Kingdom to come in our city?

One of the goals of the Trek (the program through which I went to Cairo) was to encourage us college kids to have something like "kingdom vision" (my word, not theirs). If, as we believe, Christ is alive in us and working through us, then we are empowered to be able to see things the way He sees them (or as much is possible given our sinful condition). The Bible also helps us---we know things about what this "Kingdom of God" is supposed to look like. And, as Jesus uses our hands, brains, and bodies to do His will, we'll be acting with him to be bringing the Kingdom. At least a little bit.

All of this Kingdom stuff has been solidified in me through these international trips. Talking to displaced persons and living with refugees has revealed deeper levels of our world's (and my own) brokenness, yes, but seeing God at work there (and in me) has revealed the deepness of His love too. He's increased my belief in His power to bring "greater things" and my resolve to let Him use me in that work.

So I sing (or play, depending on the week) with even more love for and faith in my Savior and the Redeemer of our broken cities. Cities like Kampala, Cairo, Penn Hills, and Hebron alike.