I opened my Notes today to write a post about how I'm overwhelmed and dragging with all of this writing, that all my preparations have dried up and I'm feeling the burden of deadline. But what I found instead was this freestyle poem (?) I started a while ago and never finished. So I finished it today. We'll just celebrate that small victory for now and not get too caught up in tomorrow.
It's about the tension that exists between the girl I used to be and the woman I am now. It's about waking up to real life and not just existing in the haze, but how do you get there? How do you build bridges between two different realities? How do you effectively connect people to people and resources to needs? I'm still trying to figure it all out.
Also, I'm not sure what to title it. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to chat in the comments!
The Currency of Souls
I used to get angry at the ignorance
Thinking, how could it be that you cannot see
All of the privilege right here in front of me
Most of the world perceives it, how is it you can't
Inside my head is this ongoing rant
This desperation for the blindness to cease
For people to wake up, their world to increase
Call materialism what it is: Infectious disease
Our lusts and passions we're seeking to please
When all the while the world is crying, dying
Waiting for men to turn from the lying
The wool they pull over their own eyes
To hide the poverty they've grown to despise
It's no surprise
They're trying to find purpose in comfort and things
Pantries full, closets stuffed, pearls, diamond rings
Homes are huge and overflowing
Our bellies, our brains, our hipster churches keep growing
But how do you connect those minds to the streets,
Compel care about the endless needs to meet?
Connect people who’ve never wanted for anything
With those who only know love as neglecting?
The at-risk youth who’ve never left the city
With kids from the burbs--the other half, sitting pretty?
These are the questions that plague me at night
Because once you’re woke, you can’t unsee the plight
Of those who are broken, enslaved to the enemy
How do you overcome this cultural dichotomy?
Then I remember the soft whispers of the Spirit
On my own journey, refusing to hear it
Beckoning me downward, poured out, and lower,
Into a life of blessings bleeding over
Coloring the tidy whiteness I once held so dear
Messy and uncomfortable, but I had nothing to fear
For it’s when we come to the end of ourselves,
Of our knowledge, understanding, idols on shelves
That we find life that is Christ, we finally behold
Called to store up treasure in the currency of souls
We must be willing to burst our safe bubbles
To step into the lives of others filled with troubles.
To invest in the city comes at great cost
But the heart of Christ seeks after the lost
So Lord Jesus, keep making in me
A relentless pursuit of eternity
This post is part of a series I’m writing for the month of October called, 31 Ways God Paved the Road to Urban Missions. If you’re interested in the reading the rest of the series, you can find it here. To receive these posts directly in your inbox every week, subscribe below!