Following Jesus amidst the tombs
This weekend I worked an adventure camp with kids who come from notoriously bad neighborhoods in L.A. I always enjoy these camps, because I essentially get paid to hang out with kids and do fun things with them. The part that is always difficult, however, is hearing their stories of the tremendous obstacles they face in life.
One obviously intelligent and creative 16 year old boy, allowing himself to dream a little, was telling me what he hoped to do when he got older. Just as quickly as his face lit up, however, did the sparkle die out as he lowered his voice to tell me that he knew this would never happened since he did not have "papers". His parents had brought him into the States when he was 3, and he knew the difficulty of receiving his documents. "I'll probably just end up doing nothing," he told me quietly.
Another girl sobbed out pent up pain with me outside in the freezing mist while the rest of the group was involved in a "conversation circle" inside. It seemed to me that her pain came just as much as from a profound sense of isolation as the hurt caused by being abandoned by her father and difficulty with her mother.
Hearing these stories reminds me that I do not enjoy feeling my own pain, not to mention other people's pain. The temptation to isolate myself from others' pain is a powerful and potent force. The day I got back from camp, however, I read the story of Jesus and the Gerasene demoniac. It struck me that Jesus seemed to have gone there for the sole purpose of meeting with this naked man who lived among the tombs. Assaulted by the demonic, this man was surrounded by the scent of death, yet Jesus walked in the midst of this. In view of my visceral reaction to pain, I have no doubt that I would have been hiding behind one of the tombs during the interaction between Jesus and the demoniac.
To follow Jesus, I have to follow him amidst the tombs. These kids are assaulted by those same forces that were in that ancient graveyard, forces that are attempting to destroy their lives, to bring them to a point of hopelessness and resignation at the prospect of things ever being different. To follow Jesus, I have to be present with them, to be able to squarely look at and try to understand their reality. This means really listening to their stories and allowing myself to be affected by their pain. Perhaps this allows me to bear a small bit of their burden, even for that moment that they are telling me their story.
One obviously intelligent and creative 16 year old boy, allowing himself to dream a little, was telling me what he hoped to do when he got older. Just as quickly as his face lit up, however, did the sparkle die out as he lowered his voice to tell me that he knew this would never happened since he did not have "papers". His parents had brought him into the States when he was 3, and he knew the difficulty of receiving his documents. "I'll probably just end up doing nothing," he told me quietly.
Another girl sobbed out pent up pain with me outside in the freezing mist while the rest of the group was involved in a "conversation circle" inside. It seemed to me that her pain came just as much as from a profound sense of isolation as the hurt caused by being abandoned by her father and difficulty with her mother.
Hearing these stories reminds me that I do not enjoy feeling my own pain, not to mention other people's pain. The temptation to isolate myself from others' pain is a powerful and potent force. The day I got back from camp, however, I read the story of Jesus and the Gerasene demoniac. It struck me that Jesus seemed to have gone there for the sole purpose of meeting with this naked man who lived among the tombs. Assaulted by the demonic, this man was surrounded by the scent of death, yet Jesus walked in the midst of this. In view of my visceral reaction to pain, I have no doubt that I would have been hiding behind one of the tombs during the interaction between Jesus and the demoniac.
To follow Jesus, I have to follow him amidst the tombs. These kids are assaulted by those same forces that were in that ancient graveyard, forces that are attempting to destroy their lives, to bring them to a point of hopelessness and resignation at the prospect of things ever being different. To follow Jesus, I have to be present with them, to be able to squarely look at and try to understand their reality. This means really listening to their stories and allowing myself to be affected by their pain. Perhaps this allows me to bear a small bit of their burden, even for that moment that they are telling me their story.
posted by Melody at
5:56 PM
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