Coming home, I’ve been surprised how much I miss the space JJP made for lament. It’s easy to slip back into the numbness of privilege. I have been well-trained at putting the world on mute, at plugging in my headphones, or plugging into Netflix; at cramming my schedule, at keeping busy, at staying detached.
But God is good! He never stops pursuing me. For the last three Sundays at church, my eyes have welled up whenever we sing songs about the cross. These songs (and the tears that accompany them) remind me of our Intercessory Cross at JJP, and also Christ's willingness to enter into our painful, broken existence - even submitting to a grisly, torturous demise. And God is gently prompting me to continue on the painful but redemptive path of lament. Late one night, I cried with my mom about some hard family dynamics. At church, I prayed with a woman whose 7-year-old niece is suffering because of her parents’ messy divorce. I called Michelle, a black friend from Stanford, who will be with me in Ujamaa (a predominantly black dorm) next year. Together we groaned for God to create more Christian justice spaces on campus. Even when I tried to distract myself on Netflix, I learned a valuable lesson in confronting pain from Coleman, a character in 4 Minute Mile. Moments like these transform me as a brother, a son, a servant, and a leader. |