doing it justice

Once a year the city of Amsterdam opens 40 of its museums at night, til about 2am. There are free buses and the canal boats are free for those visiting the museums. There are musical events, cultural cuisines and art, art, art. By far this is one of my favorite nights. So last night, we started our journey through the city, with thousands of others, seeing and experiencing the rich culture of this city.

One of the sites was a Portuguese synagogue located in what is left of the Jewish Quarters in the city. This area was practically destroyed in WW2. The building was built in 1675, and the design of the barrel-vaulted roof was designed to echo like that of the temple of Solomon. There are over a thousand candles and they were all lit that night. As we walked in, there was a choral group of men singing in the center. It felt very “sacred”. You could sense the level of devotion and reverence for the space they were in.

The last place ventured to was the nieuwe kerk, or new church, located in the heart of the city, The Dam, which is the largest center in the city. This church is anything but new. It is a Gothic church but the actual date of when it was built is unknown. It has been used since 1815 as the place where the royalty are inaugurated, and in the off time is used as an art gallery. On museum night, it housed an exhibit of Istanbul. They had music there are well, performed by an Islamic band, playing traditional music and the inside was decorated with the customs and traditions of the city of Istanbul. A very different feel than the synagogue. Obviously a church, maybe at one time, intended to be a place of worship, a place of reverence for Christians in the time of Christendom, but those days are long gone.

Isn’t it interesting that even though the Jewish faith as been around for thousands of years, faced countless persecutions, and their presence in a city where they are clearly the minority, their place of worship is intact and still functioning and being regarded as a place of worship, community and identity, while the new church is an art gallery?

I walked around the new church, as I do in most old amazingly beautiful cathedrals here in Holland, walking on the floors made of the concrete coffins of people, more than likely those who attended and identified with this place as a sacred place, a place of community and identity, and wonder. Wonder lots of things, but mostly I wonder how God is going to redeem the plundering and abuse of power that the church paticipated in for centuries? How is Jesus going to be more than that guy that hangs on all the crosses or that weak looking guy in all the pictures? How is He going to be more than an icon here? So many people traveling through the churches that are now museums, while the mosques and synagogues are still places of worship.

My grandfather died yesterday. He was 91. I wanted to write about him because I don’t think anyone else will. You see, he wasn’t a very nice person to most, he died alone and there won’t even be a service to mourn his death. He was married 4 times, and had a number of girlfriends up until his death. He had 2 children, but didn’t really raise either of them. I barely knew him, although I was fond of him as a child. He walked me down the aisle when I got married. He made a lot of mistakes and missed out on a lot because being right was more important than anything else to him. I don’t know that he ever realized how alone he really was. I don’t know that he ever embraced Jesus. He was my grandfather, he was loved by God. His name was Robert Kysar.

Sarah, she is 17 and has made an appointment to get her first abortion. In her short life, she has settled for the warmth and acceptance of any guy that shows her any kind of positive attention. She knows the drill, dress, make up and the all-important flirtatious aura that lets a guy know she is desperate for attention. She goes out with her other girlfriends, hoping this night, they will meet that “special” guy, you know the one that will sweep them off their feet and make everything right in the world. To belong, to be loved, is what they all long for.

Her parents divorced when she was young. Actually, Dad bailed. He found someone younger and more “fun”. Sarah talks to him briefly, when she calls him and he always promises he will come around, but never does. She can’t figure out why he doesn’t like her. Maybe if I was prettier, or smarter, there must be something wrong with me, because if he liked me, he would have stayed, he would call.

On the outside Sarah is confident and carries herself like she has it all figured out. She does well in school and has dreams of going to college and making something of her life. She doesn’t want to end up like her mom, working all the time, single and abandoned. Sarah doesn’t blame her mom for her dad leaving, but often wonders if only she had tried harder, maybe he would have stayed.

Fueled by this internal, primitive longing for her dad’s affection and acceptance, she looks for this in any guy that comes around and then, when the brief “relationship” ends, she is left feeling even more empty and abandoned. Once again, left, rejected, and each experience leaves her feeling even more lost and lonely.

This last relationship, she vowed to herself would be different. This guy REALLY cares for me, he even said he loved me and I think he means, it. After he found out she was pregnant, he bailed. Not feeling like she could tell her mom, the shame and guilt, the lectures and conflict was more than she could bare.

Abortion seemed like her only option to regain her fragile place in life. She has heard all the talk about how it is murder, she has seen on TV abortion clinics being bombed by people who call themselves Christians and wonders why they would kill others. She is confused, but mostly scared. Scared of losing her relationship with her mother, her father, her dreams of college and a future.

At the hospital, abortions are routine. It is like going in and getting any other outpatient procedure. There had been some controversy at the hospital due to some nurses who had a moral problem with wheeling girls down to the wing where they get abortions. They felt that they would be contributing to the death of the child and supporting this vile act. These Christian nurses had it written in their contract to be excused from this unrighteous duty. The Christian community applauded this stand for morality. “What a great witness”, they said, “standing up for what you believe in”, … “we all should pray for this kind of boldness and stand against evil”.

Under the banner of morality, the righteousness of our day, Sarah will be wheeled down by a nurse who will show her compassion and understanding in her most desperate hour, but it won’t be a Christian showing this love and compassion, they are too busy making a stand.

For the majority of my adult life, the distraction of money, the fact that it is needed for daily life, seemed like the hurdle that got in the way of what life was supposed to be about. Even though, I had a job that I viewed as missional, a science teacher in a public school, I usually felt like my hands were tied when it came to how I really wanted to help the kids. It trashed a lot of my ideals and left me wanting…wanting to have a REAL impact, lasting, eternal impact on all the youth I encountered. It seems we strive for financial independence so that we can live a life unencumbered to serve God to the fullest. Well, here I am, living a life basically unencumbered by the restrains of a “job” that eats up most of my day, and I am left wanting…basically in the same place I was those years ago feeling like I really want to my life to count for something bigger than who I am, still searching for my place. The irony huh?

Irony, yeah, that word resonates with me now. I thought I was leaving a desert time, moving to the land of green, rain, and life. A life that would be integrated into community, team, common mission, a tribe if you will, only to find a year later, none of it materialized. Now what? Prolonged desert time? More pruning, preparation? More grief and loss? For what purpose? For how long?
A stream of failed attempts at wanting this life, that is what I have. The thing is, none of the failed attempts have been rooted in moral collapse like you usually hear about. Politics have defiantly tainted and wreaked havoc, which always catches me off guard (shame on me). Looking for someone to blame, I guess, but what would that solve?

Still I read that God is with me, for me and loves me. I read about many great leaders who had many years of desert times, years and years of time we know little about, and God was ever present in those unknown years. But I am just an ordinary chick just wanting my life to be full, full of God, adventure and meaning. I long for action, done dreaming of what might be. But for now… I am encouraged to look for the gifts in this time, this prolonged desert time.

Last night I co-lead a discussion group with parents of an international church in The Hague about parenting. I basically shared my own stories that illustrated my core value of parenting which is having good relationships with my kids. During the course of this conversation, I was sharing how important it is for me to live in community with others. It is good and beneficial for my kids to be around others, to hear their stories and how they are fleshing out what they believe, how they struggle, what they question and how they are contending with God. It is equally benefical for us to have people over that are not yet Christians, and to watch God transform them before their very eyes. I mentioned that earlier in the week, we had a baby shower for 2 of the teachers at my kids school that were having babies. It was a way for us to share a bit of American culture as well as a way to build community within our school, and honor them, show them love and get to know them a little better.

Well, with that came a deluge of resistance. The mothers in the group were quick to defend why they can’t be entertaining that often in their homes, too much work, stresses them out, etc. I tried to explain the difference between entertaining and sharing life together, how informal I am, etc. Then one mother said to me, “You must be an extrovert.” Wow, I have been accused of a lot of things in my life, but never an extrovert. I am an introvert to the core. There was a part of me that was a bit proud of the accusation. I have worked really hard since we moved here on being more outgoing, more social. I have taken a lot more risks in relationships. I start conversations with perfect strangers at the park, I throw parties in my house for people I don’t know, I travel hours on trains to go to meetings with other parents and make it a goal to get to know them a little better every time we travel. Why? I believe that there is a hunger for belonging and community, real life on life living and sharing. I have had to change, you see because in the past, I was able to ride on coat-tail of my late husband who was an extrovert. I didn’t need to be overly intentional with people, because he met enough people to keep us both busy.

We talked last night about the need we all have, including our kids for belonging and relationships. I strongly believe that if all the parents that were at the meeting last night, were intentional in the relationships they currently have, there would be a noticeable change in the culture of The Hague and their kids would feel at bit at ease knowing they aren’t the only ones with questions and doubts. We all have them.

Today I realized we were probably robbed last week. It has taken that long to piece together all the things that are missing. I did not lock our door last Sunday night. I know, shame on me. I went to bed and forgot to check. So, today when we were looking for our cameras so we could finish a class assignment for a couple of my kids, we realized my camera and my sons were missing. My son was positve his camera was in his room. If that is so, then that means we had strangers in our rooms while we were sleeping. Not a very comforting thought.

As we prayed tonight, I thought of how I was thankful we were robbed here in Amsterdam than back in California. There might be a lot more petty crimes here, but the thieves don’t carry guns. I thanked God that all that was taken were things. My most precious gifts are safe and unharmed. I think of all the stories of robberies where that is not the case.

We had a great conversation tonight about what really matters - people not things. I think we all left the conversation less frustrated and more thankful. Thankful we had things that could be taken, thankful just things were taken, thankful we can replace all that is gone (it may take a while), and thankful for all that we do have. May we be good stewards of what we do have:)

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