We Are Sisters {What Does Love Require of Us?}

Caring isn’t a Christian’s sideline hobby. Caring is a Christian’s complete career. We don’t just care about people — caring about people is our job — the job every single one of us get up to do every single day. That’s it. Caring is our job, our point, our purpose.We’re here to care like a boss. Ann Voskamp

I’ve missed the last few Ann Voskamp posts. In a busy day, blog reading is the first thing in my routine to go. But after seeing this post shared on Facebook by ladies I respect, I made time to read.

I read and reread.

How horrific.

I am begging you to take a moment and read it.  Please. You need to know.  (This is me pleading you to take five  minutes and read this – please.)

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I once prayed…Lord, break my heart for what breaks yours.  He answered.  He continues to answer. And if I am honest there have been times I’ve tried to take that prayer back.  I’ve looked around in Honduras or in my own classroom and said…I don’t want to know anymore. I don’t want to care.

Just today a woman who once cooked for me in Honduras lost her one-month old to pneumonia.

Two students recently told me of their foster care experiences – one is now happily adopted. Another just existing because it’s the best she’s been offered. (When she looks around at her peers, she feels less than – like she was dealt an unequal hand.)

And now these words from Ann that describe something I can’t even fathom.  Near the end, the “God forbid” sections get to me.  Tears come.  And this….

When we are on Sinjar Mountain,” Sozan motions to these mothers, these women, sitting on the floor of the shipping container — like you can truck humanity around like meat — “and ISIS is fighting and shooting and killing all around us — there is no water. No water anywhere — for any of our children. There is no food. Six of the children with us — six of my nieces and nephews” — she holds up her fingers — “six of them, they die. No water, no food.”

Does she know that after every meal at home, I water all our houseplants with the leftover water in the pitcher? That our dog gets whatever we don’t finish off our plates? Does she know that our churches are fundraising for building expansions and plusher chairs while their children are dying?

I had a bad day yesterday. Just a day of feeling overwhelmed and weary mixed with sadness.  So much just felt impossible yesterday.  And then I read these words.

Both my kids woke up happy and healthy this morning.  Chose from 20 outfits. Ate good breakfasts. Packed a big lunch.  No choosing which one to put in the getaway car.  No watching them die and covering them with rocks because I can’t dig into the mountain for proper burial.  No wondering how they will eat or drink today. (I mean, can you EVEN imagine??)

I wasted three gallons of water washing my favorite travel coffee mug because I’d left it in my car.  Wasted pizza sits on the table.  I threw out old food from the fridge in anticipation of trash day – you know, that day when the trash man comes and takes away all the things I’ve wasted.  Sigh.

And, friend, this is NOT me feeling shame or guilt about what I’ve been given.  Not at all.

BUT…

It begins to end when the world lives what we actually are: We are sisters. We are a sisterhood. We belong to each other. We belong to the women who can’t read, we belong to the women who have been stripped of every hope, who are being sold in slave markets, whose daughters are coming back to them with ripped apart virginity. ISIS doesn’t own these women — they belong to us. They belong to the sisterhood of the world. When we live like we all belong to each other, we answer much of the longing in the world. 

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I read Hebrews 11:1-40 this morning; it just happens to be Faithfulness day at She Reads Truth.  I read of Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, and Sarah who IN FAITH gave their best to God. I read my friend Marilyn’s blog on frontiers and fear.  And wrote this prayer in my journal…

Lord, what am I sacrificing BY FAITH to bring my best?  

It’s so hard to look heavenward and say “send me” – however that looks.

I wonder…”What do I do with this, Lord?” Then, I fear His answers. (Have you ever been scared He will actually answer or give you the desire of your heart?) If I truly ask Him and surrender, then what might love require of me?

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What does it look like for me to stand “with each other and for each other and about each other”? Here, there, and everywhere?

A mentor and good friend (whom I admire greatly) texted me and asked my thoughts on Ann’s post…she shared that the “enormity of the horror immobilizes me.”

Do you feel that way?  Immobilized?  Scared to ask what love requires of you?  Me too and me too.

But, can we begin a conversation?  Can you share what you think?  How you feel God is leading you?

I pray it’s time we begin to speak of the real issues and horrors in this world – and that those things which break His heart, breaks ours.

Comments

  1. “enormity of the horror immobilizes me.”
    Yes, it can be completely paralyzing, the enormity of a thing. I pray for eyes to see the one thing there is for me to do. Just one thing. One at a time anyway. Is God pointing to something that’s not just a jumping-on-the-bandwagon, but a call on me to extend some grace, even to an individual close. That, too, touches the world. After that one, there may be another and another. The overall effect of taking those little steps that are pointed out is to find the paralysis gone. Sorry to go on and on. Being immobilized due the enormity of a thing is a topic near and dear to my heart.

  2. I do what I can, I talk about it, I pray sincerely, I give from my little, I keep my trivial desires in perspective (most days) and work to teach my children to do the same. I am willing to go, but I will serve where the Lord has me for now.

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