GET ANGRY

So the Yugoslav wars were pretty horrific, and when the Calvin group was in Croatia last fall, we still saw the wretched effects of it all over the countryside and especially in the pits of our stomach. (See a former post called "Vukovar" if you need to recall some of that.)

Why am I talking about this now? I just had an aha! moment as I was skimming over my human rights textbook; one human right specified by international law is this: "Physical destruction includes the destruction of crops by chemical defoliants or the pollution of water reservoirs. Violations would also occur if landmines were to render agricultural areas useless...(yada yada yada)..." This is considered a war crime.

But if you drive through the Croatian countryside, through its ethnically segregated Hungarian, Serbian, Bosnian, and Croatian villages, you will notice this exact crime arrogantly branded on all the fields—all except the Croatian fields.

The Croatian government has thus far failed to remove these red, skeleton-stamped minefield signs from much of the land that could be used for cultivation, for feeding people, for giving poor rural communities the freedom to profit, flourish, work, and be free from hunger. It's not that there are necessarily leftover landmines from the Yugoslav wars in the field; in fact, most fields have been swept of them. But leaving that red sign there mandates that the field can't be cultivated, and so the Croatian government continues to exact vengeance on minorities—Bosnians, Serbs, and Hungarians—isolating them in an island of poverty and fruitlessness.

Oh, that makes me so mad. I hope you are getting seriously angry about this. Otherwise, in ten years, our indifference will ensure the continuation of this and all other human rights violations.

STRAY THOUGHT OVER TEA

A thought:

There is something very soothing about a kitchen.

There are a bunch of tangents I could easily run off with about how food and sharing food and sitting down for regular family meals and friendly potlucks creates community...and how important communion and sharing communion is...and all that jazz; but really, I just wanted to say that thing about kitchens.

I just glanced up from my reading, and my good friend and housemate Liz Yeager is stirring some homemade chai tea over our stove top, and there's something about her, there, stirring her tea, and me, here at the table, with my book, and the space between us and the comfortable silence except for the quiet stirring.

That's all.

FACT

Today is my last first day of school.

"GUT" IS A FUNNY WORD

Whoever claims to live in him must walk as Jesus did.

(I John 2:6)

Usually when my belly is rumbling, it's saying, Leah, I want some peanut butter, please. (It's a very polite belly.) And this morning, when my belly said, Good morning, Leah, I would love some coffee with peanut butter toast, I listened.

But around 11:20 this morning, during the worship service at Madison, my gut was just churning with a hunger that had nothing to with peanut butter or physical need. It had everything to do with the truth I started this post off with: Whoever claims to live in him must walk as Jesus did.

Sometimes seeking God's will is a test-and-wait-and-see-and-turn-around-and-try-again thing, which you do while slogging through a thick fog. And then sometimes God just hits you with a truth—maybe because you were ready for it, maybe because you made your heart available for it, or maybe because he just wanted you to listen up right then and there.

Whoever claims to live in him must walk as Jesus did.

This morning was one of those clear-cut truth mornings for me. And by clear-cut truth, I mean it landed like a fireball in my belly, a meteor shower maybe, and worked its way into something straight-up practical while Pastor Dave preached.

It was awesome.

I've got all these crazy dreams about bringing fingerpaint to kids in the Ukraine, and helping the Roma women provide for themselves and their families, and waging a war of love against all kinds of apathy and discrimination and hate going on around world. The cool thing is, it's possible.

When I die to myself, just let fistfuls of selfish and insecure and stupid stuff go, just let God really have his say and way with whatever I've got, these dreams get real. All of a sudden, they're not far away somethings, but up-close, highly-focused callings. They're empowered by the only one who's got the power to ignite those dreams into a big blazing reality. They're things I feel burning in my gut each day I wake up. And as long as I'm still waking up (praise God), I will burn for that which God requires of and desires for me.

Whoever claims.

I claim the just mercy of Christ, I will proclaim his death until he comes, and I must walk in the way of life.

Mmhmm.