Well, God decided to hold me to my challenge to pray more.
I (and my 3 teammates) left Thursday, May 27 for Amsterdam! Party city! Woo! And where else were we staying but the fringes of the notorious Red Light district. We actually stayed in this cozy and welcoming hostel called Shelter City, one of the Christian hostels that one of the other teams will be working with.**** Before I go on, let me explain a little bit of the structure of the trip I’m on, which is under Youth Hostel Ministry of Wheaton College’s Office of Christian Outreach. There are 23 students off in 5 different groups in 3 different locations. Two groups will be stationary and working in two different Christian hostels in Amsterdam. The other 3 groups travel around a bit. One group travels and then works at a hostel in Bergen, Norway. The remaining two groups, one to which I belong, are traveling for a month and then are stationed in two different hostels in Prague, Czech Republic. The hostel my team and I will be staying in is Sir Toby’s (check it out online!).
So, our first stop, as said, was Shelter City in Amsterdam. First off, Europe is beautiful in her age. Everything is old and made legitimate in it’s experience – like wrinkles, you are made to look all the happier when wrinkles evidence decades of smiling. We would pass archways that were built in 1614 and stood there like it was no big deal. (Honestly I’ve been horrible at taking pictures thus far but I’ll try to snag some from my teammates.)
My biggest struggle in Amsterdam, a place with many stumbling blocks to offer, was actually my health. (I don’t mean for this to be a pity-post, but rather an exploration of present suffering.) Since the day before we left, I’ve been rather sick, leaving me with no audible voice for the first few days, communicating merely in whispers, smiles, and other gestures (I am continually amazed at how expressive I am with my face without knowing.) This “forced vow of silence” as we came to joke about it was really rough for me, but I’m trying to exegete some lessons from it. First of all, I learned the worth of words. We generally spew all our thoughts and feelings (okay, only some of us do) without thoroughly thinking about what we are saying or the purpose of those words. Yet, we developed language so that we may communicate. What do we want to communicate to each other? Okay, well there’s one mandate that I know of in Scripture of how to act, as well as how to communicate, and that is to love. How can we be more loving with our words? I ask this not in self-righteous conviction for the lesser-hearted ones, for no, not all, nor many of my own words have been loving since I’ve gotten my voice back. However, a question I was reminded to ask myself as I journaled today was, “Is this the most loving way to do life?” (as inspired by Crazy Love of course). In today’s world and my very own, our (and my) communication and humor is laced with harsh sarcasm, racy and crude gestures and comments, and generally unnecessary expletives. Is this the most loving way to do life? To communicate? No, so I will try to find the worth of my words in love.
Another lesson that God has been teaching me lately is in meekness. Now, I imagine this is one of those topics that can’t be discussed by one yet to transcend into it’s ideal state, i.e. one cannot say that he or she has become the most humble person because saying so would prove otherwise. Thus, I will leave it as vague and open-ended as to say God has been teaching me meekness. Through my interactions in the deli as the oldie-newbie to needs to be reminded of protocol, and through my silence during my early travels, God has taught me meekness by showing me that my voice is not the most important one to be heard. In the deli this looked like my reliance on others for what to do next and giving up the facade that I’ve got it all under control, and know it that I asked some pretty foolish questions for someone who has been technically working there for two years. In Amsterdam and in our travels, this lesson looked like complete allowance of others to express their wants, needs, and opinions, or stories without interruption. I had to let someone else drive, even everyone else. The True lesson to be learned here is not that my voice is not the most important, but rather His voice is the most important. This is no easy lesson to be learned by an American taught that the world is on my string and free speech implies other’s obligatory listening, and clearly this lesson has not been completed as I continue on for paragraphs fed by the self-perpetuated illusion that reading this blog is the best use of your time. (It’s not, stop now!)
Love and meekness. Dang, this is going to be a long and messy journey. Oh Lord, if this means that not even a morsel of my self will be intact, so be it, for it is only in my mute moments are you mountainous, and in my weakness are you wondrous. Make us to be prayerfully aware of our need for your true strength.
C’est tout pour maintenant. That’s all for now.
Peace in Christ.
JB
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