allume

real light living

Ashamed of My Gospel

By

ethiopia visit.jpg

I left a part of my heart in the blood-red Ethiopian soil. I don’t know if I’ll ever reclaim it. These months back feel like a skin I need to shed, and I’m wriggling, tensing muscles and prying myself loose.

I’ve said before I’m not the same girl I was when I boarded that plane.  But the truth is that we are never the same day-to-day. If life were time lapsed, each day would show the indents and soul creases accrued when we brush up against a lifetime. Each day adding another layer to our story. And some days remove layers, scrape them clean off like a dirty film.

Africa did both.

Before and afters litter the years of my life. Sometimes they are an improvement, often they are not.

I have a pair of walking clogs I wore when we weaved our way down the path to the huts. They sit in the entry way, they still have African soil grooved into their soles. And I do too.

I am restless and contented and I’m making my peace with this tension. How can a soul be stirred up and kindled white-hot for the things of God and then asked to simmer and stay and dwell in suburban obedience?

I dreamed of being a world changer when I was young enough to think that meant suitcases and passports and no ties to keep me from living radically. But I’m older now, wiser maybe. I see world changing doesn’t begin with a stamp in a passport or selling all your possessions.

It starts with knowing God. It starts with asking what He wants and sometimes that means all of those things but often, I’m finding that obedience is just as hard when the grand adventure that awaits you is paying bills and loving your neighbor and shopping for groceries with a gaggle of children in tow. Sometimes it’s purging the soul of excess.

Sometimes it’s so hard to see God in the ordinary rhythms of our lives and it takes a mighty blow to remember we are on holy ground. Walking each day in the grace and glory of a life redeemed and a call to make it known among nations and neighborhoods, near and far.

I find I struggle most when I am swept along with the current of a culture that can’t ever fill those soul holes.

We are rampant with desire for all the wrong things. And I think back to the patches of sunlight breaking through the mango trees littering the ground with dappled light and I remember sitting on the slimmest wooden bench hoping to God my weight wouldn’t snap it in two. These are the things I thought about in that hut in Ethiopia as I sat with my sponsored daughter. I was filled with joy and remorse.

I thought about the weight of my soul and my body lumbering down the narrow path, reeds and stalks snapping against my bare arms because the path wide enough for two Africans to walk side by side barely accommodated me. How far I’ve wandered in the filling of my life.

Traveling to the third world as an overweight American changed me in ways I’ve yet to reckon with.

I carry my excess, my sin, on my frame, visible for every emaciated and waif-like child, every villager who hasn’t got enough. But then we all do, don’t we? Some just hide it better. Who of those people could see our sprawling homes or our overstuffed closets, our shopping carts overfilled and our appetites for more. Only mine was visible because it rolls off my body and bulges at the seams.

If the gospel were real.jpg

I am ashamed at the way we represent the gospel that sets us free. I am ashamed of the bondage I bring with me.

I know a grace that covers the brokenness. Oh how I know this. But I want to believe the gospel. I want to believe he binds and makes new. I want to see the new creation fully alive.

I flew home with the promises of God whispered in my ear. You are free, child. You are filled. I believe them.

I step tentative toes on the scale and see barely the tiniest dip. It doesn’t match my restraint. But I’m not on the quest for an after that dons skinny jeans or poses with fat pants that could house 3 of me.

I am in search of an after that means my gospel is truth. Only Christ in me, the hope of glory. Nothing else fills. And I know the sum of my parts and my soul are not measured in numbers but obedience. I find my appetites are quelled. My soul doesn’t salivate for more, only my spirit seems unquenchable.

I have tasted God.

Comments

  2. Thank you for the vulnerability it took to write this. It speaks to me.

  3. Your writing style is as gorgeous as always, but what makes your posts extra special is how you bravely weave vulnerability into your prose. Thank you for sharing such convicting truth.

  4. As always, Alia, your write something that touches my heart and soul. You write so lyrically and beautifully. I think this is the key “It starts with knowing God. It starts with asking what He wants” then having the grace and courage the DO what he asks of us.
    Beautiful my friend…just lovely. Thank you.

    • Thank you Mary. That’s always the start, yes? I’m listening to what He’s saying and it feels like freedom, but not one that comes without a great cost. Learning to live the obedience.

  5. “How can a soul be stirred up and kindled white-hot for the things of God and then asked to simmer and stay and dwell in suburban obedience?” Yes….how? And yes, knowing God. Yes. I am blessed through your words.

    • Thank you. I’m still working out the tension every day. I can’t wait to share notes when you get back from your trip.

  6. I can never say it enough and I pray it just never gets old, or comes off as lazy or untrue… I just adore you and all your lovely raw honest soul-stirring words… every. single. time.

    • Honestly after the day I’ve had, those are the sweetest words. So blessed by you, not old or lazy, just what my soul needed today.

  7. Oh friend. The passion that oozes from your words. And just this…”Only Christ in me, the hope of glory. Nothing else fills.” Yes. YES. A million yeses to that. Heart with you and looking only to Him. xoxo

    • I was so happy to see your comment here but mostly because I miss you. I am going to vox you long rambly words.

  8. Alia, your words never fail to reach me at my core. I need to purge my soul of excess in so many ways. And I echo Karrilee in that I feel like I can’t put into words how much your words move me, but I want you to know anyway. So KNOW you are encouraging me with every word you write. Always. And thank you for your honesty and transparency. It’s needed and it’s appreciated. xoxo, Meredith

    • Thank you so much for sharing that with me, Meredith. That means so much. Sometimes writing, especially my writing and processing of Africa have been solitary. I haven’t written much online yet about it but when I do it’s always a bit scary. Thank you for being on this journey with me. I so appreciate you.

  9. Oh yes… this —>I am in search of an after that means my gospel is truth. Only Christ in me, the hope of glory. Nothing else fills. — Please this – Christ in me. Weeping here friend… just weeping with the beauty of this!

    • I keep looking around at all the excess and I just want to purge it all. I see it around me but even more so, I see it in me. I just want to burn it all down. LOL. I do feel kind of crazy free. I’ll write more about it later, but for now, I’m garage sale-ing the contents of my home. 😉

  10. Alia, I’ve recently started my own quest of obedience regarding my outward appearance and health and blogged about it last week! I love your words of wisdom and encouragement and love when God brings us together along the same path. Praying and cheering for you!!

    • Yes! I’ve started and stopped a million diets for every wrong reason but I’ve never felt the promises of freedom like I do now. It’s obedience and being filled by God, instead of searching for idols. So glad to be on this journey with you.

  11. Alia, I am getting ready to go on a mission trip to Haiti June 14th. When I return, I know I will not be the same person who step on the plane the week before. I will be asking the same question: “How can a soul be stirred up and kindled white-hot for the things of God and then asked to simmer and stay and dwell in suburban obedience?” I love your imagery of indents and soul creases. If we live life well, our souls will be deeply creased and etched by the those who brush our path. As if staring in the aged, timeworn face of an elderly women kissed by the life’s many experiences, may our souls also reflect a deeply creased life. Your words are beautifully written!

    • Yes and amen to a deeply creased life. I want to say, when I’m old and gray-er, I earned every one of those creases by laughing hard, loving well, and weeping when it was called for. Sometimes it’s knowing when to take action, went to lament, and when to get on your knees and start over. Hope you have an amazing life stirring trip to Haiti!

  12. “I have tasted God.” Oh, my heart resonates with your passion from being changed….awesome words here, Alia.

  14. Alia, I have read your post sitting in Paris and again here at home. Thank you for sharing about your experience and how you are processing your re-entry back to the States after your trip. I am working out my own re-entry to the States after 8 weeks in Europe. I always find the tension between travel and suburbia life fascinating. The only way I know how to make peace with the tension is only doing what I feel like God is calling my family to do and not worrying about everyone else. And I agree, how we represent the gospel matters. So much.

  15. Oh, Alia. I love you so much. I am immensely proud of you for being a truth-proclaimer and hope-bringer, and I am believing with you for your freedom. Jesus is so beautiful in and through you, my friend.

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