Well, fancy seeing you here.

Welcome back, y’all.  My apologies for the summer hiatus; I was humbled by the number of you who raised concerns.  Summer in Florida was wonderful.  Even on the final day of September Tallahassee’s heat flirted with 90 degrees.  I’ll miss that.  I’ll miss it like Auburn football misses Cam Newton…but we’d best not go there.

Three weeks ago my industrial-weight thermal underwear and I flew to London.  

Some accused me of overpacking.  I found their claims ungrounded.

This was the second consecutive September that I ended with a flight to London, moving solo to a foreign continent, stupefied and slack-jawed that one of my hair brained (though surely divinely inspired) schemes had come to fruition.  Not-so-secretly, I couldn’t help but hope that there wouldn’t be a third.

On my final morning driving through Tallahassee I heard Zac Brown Band’s “Colder Weather" on the radio.  The song concerns a desperado figure who says of himself, “…got a gypsy soul to blame, and I was born for leavin’.”  That line rang in my ears while I packed.  The song is sad— at least from the vantage of the figure’s love interest— but more than saddened, I wound up convicted.

A gypsy soul, aside from one that avoids the love of others, is nothing to mourn.  Each of us was born for leaving.   Unlike the desperado character we are both created for and called to community, but I do believe we were created to have nomadic souls.  We are not to cling to what is around us.  Not to possessions, not to geography, and not to the world’s esteem.

I sometimes live as though I was born for staying; particularly in my thoughts on this move.  In explicit defiance of Christ, I build up treasures where moth and rust destroy.  I question markedly divine blessings when they diverge too far from the seemingly idyllic Southern lives of my college friends.  The hymn “I Have Decided to Follow Jesus,” at times, has the appeal of a dirge; something carried out in mourning.  What a glaring lack of perspective.

As my parents and I ate in a local restaurant just before my flight, a family friend came and spoke.  She looked at me and said, “Remember, God is in Oxford.”  I needed to hear that.

He has gone before me.  He has met me here.  And he will continue to do so.  This turned out to be the easiest move I've ever made.  Classes are challenging but immensely engaging, the pace of life is just about perfect, the weather has been freakishly temperate, the church I'm attending is fantastic,

my classmates and I get along famously,

my college and its accommodations are swell,

I'm rowing with the college club, and it's tremendous fun.

This is what the River Thames looks like by the time we finish morning rowing.

I've heard that there are three facets of Oxford life— academics, athletics, and social—  and that any given person can only manage two.  We'll see about that.  More soon on the first few weeks.

P.S.
Yesterday 35 alleged sexual predators were arrested in and around Tallahassee in what's considered to be the most successful sex sting ever accomplished in our region, Operation Tallyop.  Among the men were a local minister, an FSU assistant professor, an attorney, a city employee, and plenty other unassuming citizens.  This was the work of the North Florida Internet Crimes Against Children Task Force, comprised of FDLE, TPD, Immigrations and Customs Enforcement, the U.S. Marshal Service, and the sheriff's offices of Leon, St. Johns and Alachua counties.  I am so thankful for their efforts.

Many of the men were apprehended whilst under the impression that they had arranged to pay for sex with a 14-year old.  (Turned out to be a big, old officer anxiously awaiting their arrival.)  Please pray for our community, for the accused, and for the countless others affected by their actions.
  

As far as the east is from the west

Psalm 103:6-14

6   The LORD works righteousness
and justice for all who are oppressed.
7   He made known his ways to Moses,
his acts to the people of Israel.
8   The LORD is merciful and gracious,
slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.
9   He will not always chide,
nor will he keep his anger forever.
10   He does not deal with us according to our sins,
nor repay us according to our iniquities.
11   For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him;
12   as far as the east is from the west,
so far does he remove our transgressions from us.
13   As a father shows compassion to his children,
so the LORD shows compassion to those who fear him.
14   For he knows our frame;
he remembers that we are dust.


Thursday I drove from Tallahassee to Boone, NC for a dear friend's wedding.  As I watched this

turn to this

and finally this

I listened to a recorded reading of The Hole in Our Gospel by Richard Stearns, U.S. President of World Vision.  World Vision is Christian humanitarian organization working to address the roots of poverty and injustice around the world.  (Where IJM has a pointed focus through its collaborative casework model toward seven types of injustice— slavery, sex trafficking, unprosecuted rape, police brutality, illegal property seizure, illegal detention, and citizenship rights— all in the developing world, World Vision paints a broader stroke through emergency aid, microfinance, child sponsorships, and provision of basic staples to meet the needs of impoverished peoples both internationally and in the United States.)  Currently, the organization works with nearly 100 million people in almost 100 countries.  If you haven't heard of their child sponsorship program, check it out.

The Hole in Our Gospel was not written for our comfort.  Stearns calls readers to understand the gospel holistically; not only that we might love the Lord our God with all our hearts and love our neighbors as ourselves, but that we might define "loving our neighbors" beyond evangelism.  He calls us to pray that our hearts would be broken by the things that break God's heart, near or far, no matter whether our actions directly or immediately save a soul.  He notes that the contemporary church harps on sins of commission to the detriment of attention to sins of omission.  Scripture, he asserts, seems to imply that our Lord is more dismayed by the latter.  (See James 4:17; Luke 12:47; Luke 12:48; 2 Peter 2:21; and John 9:41.)  He takes liberty in paraphrasing Matthew 25:34-40 to address today's church:

"For I was hungry, while you had all you needed.  I was thirsty, but you drank bottled water.  I was a stranger, and you wanted me deported.  I needed clothes, but you needed more clothes.  I was sick, and you pointed out the behaviors that led to my sickness.  I was in prison, and you said I was getting what I deserved."

Ouch.

Many of Stearn's illustrations came from his experiences in India, and even in the city where I lived.  Hearing his thoughts helped me to process some of what I have seen.  I feel so far from the East right now; as if there is no way India could be on the same planet as America.  Reflecting on the profound disparity between my home country and the place I've called home for the past nine months, I reach one conclusion: the distance from east to west could hardly be further.  For the psalmist's illustrative purposes, that distance is our greatest hope; one through which we bask in mercy and in grace.  The chasm's physical distance and its social and economic implications, however, should call us to action.

Consider the 10/40 Window.  From North Africa to China, 10 to 40 degrees North of the equator, an estimated 2 billion people have not heard the gospel.  Many of those same people are starving and oppressed; among them live the majority of the world's 27 million slaves.  Both their physical and spiritual needs should be met.  Why wouldn't we help?

Stearns writes that the disparity between rich and poor is a relatively recent phenomenon in human history.  Around 1820, the difference between the wealth of nations didn't vary much beyond a 4:1 ratio.  As of 2002, the disparity was 75:1.  The problem is august, and will become worse without severe intervention.  We've grown comfortable brushing off convictions to serve the poor through misconstruing Christ's words to his disciples in Matthew 26:11: "For you always have the poor with you..."  Context is crucial here.  The link above will display the entire chapter.  Take a look.  The second part of that verse reads, "but you will not always have me."  This statement was made solely in reference to a one-time choice to expend a sum directly on honoring the Lord incarnate rather than giving money to the poor, in the context of making the most of his limited (and now expired, should we need reminding) time on earth as a man; not on brushing off the poor because they'll be around forever.  Even if the directive was to flat-out ignore the poor when attention could alternatively be given to Christ in the flesh, the premise is no longer valid.  Christ is no longer on earth in human form.  As should further go without saying, a message of apathy to the poor (let alone a message of ambivalence to help the poor because total eradication of worldwide poverty must be impossible) stands in direct conflict with nearly all of Christ's teachings.

Some would have us believe that the poor and oppressed, particularly those outside our own nation, are simply not our problem; that we've worked hard for all we have, and we should get to keep the fruits of our labor to ourselves.  Those people must have created their own messes, right?  That's got to be justification enough to leave them be.  Stearns' paraphrase, "I was sick, and you pointed out the behaviors that led to my sickness" was particularly convicting to me.  I would be embarrassed to admit how frequently I mount that soap box.  At times I'm tempted to turn to a date rape victim and ask, "What were you thinking going to that night club?"  Or to ask a single mother struggling to feed her family, "Why in the world did you have so many children?"  I certainly didn't learn this trait from Jesus.

To be sure, Christ admonished sinners whom he had cleansed to "go and sin no more," but only after addressing condemning crowds: "Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone."  From east to west, none of us is too different from that adulterous woman.  The distance between us should not be so vast.

Last summer political personality Glenn Beck took arms against a sea of troubles, proclaiming, "Social justice and economic justice are code words.  The rallying cry of both the communist front and the fascist front.  And if we don't get off the social justice/ economic justice bandwagon, you are in great danger.  All of our faiths.  My faith, your faith, whatever your church is, this is effecting all of them.  It is a perversion of the gospel, and every member of every church should be concerned.
...
If you have a priest that is pushing social justice, go find another parish.  Go alert your bishop and tell them, 'Excuse me, are you down with this whole social justice thing?'  If it's my church, I'm alerting the church authorities: 'Excuse me, what's this social justice thing?'  And if they say, 'Yeah, we're all in on this social justice thing,' I am in the wrong place."

Indeed, terms like "social justice" must be defined.  But in establishing definition, we must examine what leads us to draw lines where we do.  What do we scramble to keep to ourselves, and why?  If we're talking about giving our time and money to aid and empower the poor and oppressed, and that "social justice" is a perversion of the gospel...we're all in trouble.

Human rights activism, or social justice, has long been considered a left-wing, liberal trumpet call— a line of work reserved for hippies and new age fringe.  This is not the case, nor should it be allowed to be the case.  As the psalmist wrote that our Lord remembers we are dust (verse 14 up top) we would do well to remember the same.  We are all children of the one true God.  We all have a responsibility to care for our brothers and sisters, no matter how distant or disparate their existences may seem.  We will all be held accountable, one day, for what we have left undone.  In Christ's own words:

"And proclaim as you go, saying, 'The kingdom of heaven is at hand.'  Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse lepers, cast out demons.  You received without paying; give without pay."
     

Homecoming

I'm leaving for the airport in 20 minutes.  Processing that, alone, is more than I can muster at this juncture.  To recount all I have seen and learned here would take a long time, so don't stop coming here now; there will be many more posts on all that I didn't have time to write about while abroad.  That, and posts on what I'm learning at Oxford about India and modern slavery.

Among the greatest lessons I've learned here are these:

• Christ is not only our savior, but an archetype for how we are to live.
• God is entirely worthy of our trust, and his mercies are new every morning.
• The Christian faith is separated from all others by a deity who reaches down to meet us where we are and bring us into his kingdom; into his love.
• The Christian kingdom is rigged: all investments for our Lord, in some kingdom way, come back as gain.
• Like a father, God delights in giving us good things and is moved by our asking.  When his responses are seemingly contrary to our requests, his mighty hand and outstretched arm move in our best interests in accordance with a reality to which we are not fully privy.
• The reality of the gospel is greater than anything we can imagine.  And sooner or later, as Dallas Willard says, reality wins.

I've spent more time in Deuteronomy 6 these past nine months than in any other five books combined.  As I leave India this evening, I recall verses 20-25 in hope and great thanks for the God who has delivered us from ourselves and continues to do so daily.

"When your son asks you in time to come, 'What is the meaning of the testimonies and the statutes and the rules that the LORD our God has commanded you?' then you shall say to your son, 'We were Pharaoh’s slaves in Egypt. And the LORD brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand. And the LORD showed signs and wonders, great and grievous, against Egypt and against Pharaoh and all his household, before our eyes. And he brought us out from there, that he might bring us in and give us the land that he swore to give to our fathers. And the LORD commanded us to do all these statutes, to fear the LORD our God, for our good always, that he might preserve us alive, as we are this day. And it will be righteousness for us, if we are careful to do all this commandment before the LORD our God, as he has commanded us.'"

Amen.

Agra Fort

The last stop of our weekend venture was the Agra Fort.  Most of its present structure was completed in 1573 under Moghul emperor Akbar, grandfather of Shah Jahan the Magnificent, who commissioned the Taj Mahal's construction.  According to legend Shah Jahan died in the fort with the Taj Mahal in sight, imprisoned by his own son after a coup.

At 94 encapsulated acres, the fort was amazing.  I enjoyed it just as much as the Taj Mahal.

As we walked toward the entrance, we could see the Taj from afar.

My favorite admonishment at the fort: "Thanks...for your sweet behaviour with co-visitors."

Here we are again with the Taj behind us.

It was visible just about everywhere we went inside the fort:

The hallways seemed to go on forever.  As in the Taj, the marble cutwork was astounding.

Locals kept at work as visitors gawked at the enormity of the place.

Former Moghul emporers sat inside this space to give morning decrees.

Subjects would stand here to receive instruction.  Those columns are solid marble.

There seemed to be beautiful architecture around every corner.

One last view of the gates:

What's this?!

We found a McDonald's between Delhi and Agra. While the restaurant itself isn't uncommon in India, this was the first time any of us had seen one housed in this traditional structure.

Once inside, however, we were reminded that we were still in India.

 

Looks more like a Chick-Fil-A sort of establishment if you ask me.

Speaking of which, it's time to come home.

The Taj Mahal

Delhi was fun, but the true reason for our trip was to get to the Taj Mahal.  We hired a car and drove four hours to Agra, where we stayed overnight and rose early for a morning viewing.  As we approached the site, these women were chanting outside the gates.

Everyone was herded like cattle to get inside.

This building serves as an entryway to the Taj.  We caught a glimpse over the wall:

 

There it was!

Our first full viewing:

The hotel in which we stayed in Delhi scheduled a tour guide to show us around Agra.  He was big on pictures.  Here is our first:

And here are some more:

This, apparently, is the "Lady Di" bench.  

 

Lady Diana posed here in 1992:

 

People say that of all India's over-promoted sights, the Taj Mahal is the one that never disappoints.  We certainly felt that way.

As we approached from the side we noticed an empty cart. 

It wasn't empty for long.

Note the footwear.  Everyone who enters the Taj Mahal is required either to leave their shoes at the gate (go watch Slumdog Millionaire for inspiration on how that scenario may end) or to don these fashionable shoe covers.

The shaping of the marble was astounding.

All over the marble, these precious and semi-precious stones were set in.  The stones were each individually shaped, their precise shape was etched into the marble, then the stones were glued into place.  A flower the size of an average human first may contain as many as 30 individual pieces of stone.

Here are views from the back of the Taj:

 

And the back of the Taj itself:

Verses from the Koran were cut in ivory and laid into the marble.  The artistry was remarkable.

The Taj is flanked by identical buildings.  Apparently, according to the Koran, paradise is described as a place of symmetry.  One is a music building and the other is a mosque.  This is the music building.

I loved these guys posing:

Even the paths to the building were serene.

One last shot:

Or just one more:

Camels hung around outside!  We thought they seemed more like giraffes up close.

Next we were taken to a tourist trap that we ultimately enjoyed immensely.  These men demonstrated how precious stones were shaped to adorn the Taj.

Here are some of the stones with which they work:

This guy was charged with etching the stone shapes into marble.  They dye the marble top with henna so that the etchings stand out, then wipe it clean after the stones are set.  I was amazed that the marble could ever return to its original shade of white.  Apparently it does so easily.

Here's an example of what a fist-sized flower would look like.  Imagine how much work went into just this portion.  (You can also see where someone has begun to polish away the henna.)

The shaped stones are tiny:

These men kindly let us try our hands at shaping stones.  Using these simple machines (literally) we pushed the wooden poles back and forth to move the metal wheels against the stones, shaping as we went.  Every few seconds the stones are dipped into the blue water to remove particles that have been etched away.

That was the Taj Mahal!

Stay tuned for Agra Fort.