I am in Need

Yesterday I was flipping through my Bible trying to find a passage to read (I'm in between book/chapter readings, so I've been doing that for the past few days), and I came across Psalm 147. I got as far as verse 3 before I got really emotional and had to stop and really think about what I was reading:

"The LORD builds up Jerusalem; He gathers the exiles of Israel. He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds."

... I found that really encouraging. God doesn't necessarily call the rich or perfect or secure to Him, but He calls the poor and broken and destitute...

He calls me.

I'm going to Bolivia in three days. My life is chaotic and messy. I'm broken and in need. Yet, for some (I'm sure) incredibly awesome reason, He wants to use me to do great things for His kingdom. He wants to use me, someone absolutely ridiculous, to bring Him glory--and I think that that is beautiful. In three days I'm leaving for Bolivia to be a part of the lives of some really beautiful people this summer. And I'm going with the belief that God is going to use me there and refine me in the process.

This is the city I'll be in. It is home to the largest statue of Jesus in the world (33 ft high--1 ft for each year of His life).

Thank you for reading this, and for partnering with me in prayer.

Grace and peace,

Margaret

Heifer Ranch

This past week was not an easy one for me. It was filled with lessons of power and weakness, wealth and poverty. It all started with a trip to Heifer International in Perryville, AR.

Our school group of fifteen arrived at the Heifer Ranch on May 5th with all of our modern conveniences and unjust stereotypes in hand and in mind. The next day, May 6th, our electronics and other "must-haves" were stripped away from us and we were left with one another and a sleeping bag (we had more than that, but I'm being dramatic). For me, at least, coping with the loss of material things was not so big a problem as my realizing that I have formed prejudices against a certain group of people.

For a long time, I have lumped people who are "intolerant" into one group. I have given them a name--the "oppressor"--and a description--(mainly) white, (primarily) male, lower-middle class, with a strong Southern accent. Before I really even talk to them I put them in a box. I label them "racists," "gay-bashers," and "chauvenists." But before last week, I didn't notice the difference in my attitude towards them... Not until one of "them" pointed it out. In this case, I had labeled him as hating impoverished people; and, honestly, he probably did not like them too much. He made comments like, "If they don't work, they don't deserve to eat" and "If you live in poverty, then you will be happy in it because you know nothing else." However, that was not an excuse... And, I know that. Basically, in my desire for us to be equal, for people to love one another regardless of their sin habits or prejudices or whatever, I made the oppressor the oppressed. I took on the role of the oppressor. While I didn't beat him or hinder him from becoming a better person, I did not love him with the love of Christ.

Right now I am trying to figure out how to love people equally regardless of everything, including their worldview (and Southern drawl).

The Recovering Despot,

Margaret

State Street

I live in Clinton, MS. For those of you who are familiar with Mississippi geography, you know that it is West of the capital, Jackson; for those of you who are not--well, now you know. After many frustrating years of living near Jackson, I have come to love and appreciate it. The history here is unprecedented and the people are extraordinary. I've been thinking up crazy and irrational plans to get me living there, and I'll tell you why...

In Jackson there is something I like to call the "State Street divide." It is a barrier between the West side of Jackson (the "Black" side) and the East side (the "White" side). For me, it stands as a very physical reminder of the South's history of hatred and oppression, prejudice and ignorance. I look down that street with beat-up houses on the West and newly-renovated ones on the East, and a part of me gets really angry. I think, "Why have we allowed this to happen? Why hasn't this changed?" And another part of me sees the really great things happening on the West side--churches being planted with the intention of being multi-racial and cross-socioeconomic, the "checker-boarding" of the neighborhoods, and the shining faces of kids as we play games and tell them about the love Christ (and we) have for them at a park we hang out at on Wednesday afternoons near my church.

Then, I remember the verses in Ephesians 2 (:11-22, if you are curious) that talks about how Christ in His death on the cross reconciled Jews and Gentiles and made them one. And I think how possible it is for God, who can reconcile a holy people with a heathen people, to bring together people with different skin tones. In verse 14 it says, "For he himself is our peace, who has made the two one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility." So today I am praying for that physical State Street barrier to be destroyed, and rejoicing that He has already provided.

Grace and Peace,

Margaret