T hink you that each is a traveller on this
R aft we call 'world'?
A nd think you that we all whirl to 'Eternity", whether
V iking or Jew or Kurd?... and think you that
E veryone will meet the Great Navigator, nor more to
L inger on earth? And your destination... where is it really, think you?
t rees sail past my porthole, as I
r ace in my steel boat on a river of
a sphalt. Tributaries beckon
v ery persuasively.
e very exit is an invitation--forget the itinerary!
l et the day rush on as it will!
W ater streams smoothly in a liquid mass
A dvancing yet looking like old ripply glass
T orrentially moving yet seemingly still
E ach drop glistens and plummets until
R ainbows sparkle in the mist by the shore.
F ullgrown trees and their young look in wonder
A s the air and the water are rent asunder.
L ife here is untouched by the run of the mill--
L ilting, stunning, unexpected, joyful
Saturday 22 June 2013
Wednesday 19 June 2013
Speak up!
It feels so strange to be home for the summer! I enjoy it, but yet I also find it too easy to be occupied with work and family things, more difficult to engage with new people and get beyond my little sphere here. Today I want to share with you all a journal article that I wrote last year, as a reminder for myself and hopefully an encouragement for you to speak up and remember the bigger picture in life:
I glanced at the girl on the bus seat beside me. Her build was finer than mine, and her straight black hair hung down to her shoulders. I was surprised to note that she was not 'plugged into', or at least absorbed in, some form of electronic device.
The bus pulled away with a sigh from Brock University, and I glanced at her again as Proverbs 31:9 flashed through my mind--"Be a voice for the voiceless... speak up for the oppressed." I tried to settle back in my seat and disengage my mind, a futile attempt to silence this insistent action call from Scripture and the silent unborn. Instead, other images echoed in my mind... the time that God impressed on me the need to talk to a friend, and it turned out that her dad had just passed away... the Scriptures that warn against quenching the Spirit and ignoring God's voice...
"O.k., Lord, I know that disobedience isn't worth it."
I turned to the girl and started with some small talk, leading up to the question: What do you think about abortion?
Silence... "Why do you ask?"
"Well, I think abortion is a very important issue. What with all the discussion about it in parliament over Motion 312 and 412, I am curious to hear what people thinks about it."
... "I had one"...
Her voice took on the rough edge of unshed tears--the kind of quality that I hear in my own voice after I have stopped crying but my voice hasn't realized it yet. She went on to say that it turned out that she had miscarried anyways, so they just did the procedure to clean out her womb. She said that she would never do it again, and she should have known better before she even started fooling around with her boyfriend.
I just listened... What could I say? O Lord, this is so wrong! She didn't really want an abortion, but no one offered her support or alternatives. She's only in first year--far too young for all this pain. She knows that she made the wrong choice because she keeps trying to excuse herself--"it was only the procedure; it turns out that I had already miscarried before..."
Out loud, I expressed sympathy for all that she went through, reaffirmed her decision not to ever undergo another abortion, and recommended that she check out the Silent No More Awareness Campaign.
We were at the Pen Center now. The bus stopped and we disembarked. I thanked her for sharing with me and wished her well. Our ways parted, and tears pressed against my eyelids as I strode angrily across the praking lot. Angry, because the pro-choice movement offers few choices but murder. Angry, because of the injustices in the world.
And tears, for hurting young girls like my seatmate. Tears, for the unborn children--human beings who are precious to God.
Abortion affects the lives of many people that we meet every day. And yet it is one of the most taboo subjects of our time. We can't even pass a bill in Parliament that will let politicians start talking about it. At least we still have the freedom, as individuals, to discuss these matters. God grant me grace and courage not to let these opportunities pass by!
I glanced at the girl on the bus seat beside me. Her build was finer than mine, and her straight black hair hung down to her shoulders. I was surprised to note that she was not 'plugged into', or at least absorbed in, some form of electronic device.
The bus pulled away with a sigh from Brock University, and I glanced at her again as Proverbs 31:9 flashed through my mind--"Be a voice for the voiceless... speak up for the oppressed." I tried to settle back in my seat and disengage my mind, a futile attempt to silence this insistent action call from Scripture and the silent unborn. Instead, other images echoed in my mind... the time that God impressed on me the need to talk to a friend, and it turned out that her dad had just passed away... the Scriptures that warn against quenching the Spirit and ignoring God's voice...
"O.k., Lord, I know that disobedience isn't worth it."
I turned to the girl and started with some small talk, leading up to the question: What do you think about abortion?
Silence... "Why do you ask?"
"Well, I think abortion is a very important issue. What with all the discussion about it in parliament over Motion 312 and 412, I am curious to hear what people thinks about it."
... "I had one"...
Her voice took on the rough edge of unshed tears--the kind of quality that I hear in my own voice after I have stopped crying but my voice hasn't realized it yet. She went on to say that it turned out that she had miscarried anyways, so they just did the procedure to clean out her womb. She said that she would never do it again, and she should have known better before she even started fooling around with her boyfriend.
I just listened... What could I say? O Lord, this is so wrong! She didn't really want an abortion, but no one offered her support or alternatives. She's only in first year--far too young for all this pain. She knows that she made the wrong choice because she keeps trying to excuse herself--"it was only the procedure; it turns out that I had already miscarried before..."
Out loud, I expressed sympathy for all that she went through, reaffirmed her decision not to ever undergo another abortion, and recommended that she check out the Silent No More Awareness Campaign.
We were at the Pen Center now. The bus stopped and we disembarked. I thanked her for sharing with me and wished her well. Our ways parted, and tears pressed against my eyelids as I strode angrily across the praking lot. Angry, because the pro-choice movement offers few choices but murder. Angry, because of the injustices in the world.
And tears, for hurting young girls like my seatmate. Tears, for the unborn children--human beings who are precious to God.
Abortion affects the lives of many people that we meet every day. And yet it is one of the most taboo subjects of our time. We can't even pass a bill in Parliament that will let politicians start talking about it. At least we still have the freedom, as individuals, to discuss these matters. God grant me grace and courage not to let these opportunities pass by!
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