Sign of Home

I passed this on my way to work today.

Acknowledging UF is always an ordeal.  Do I cheer in support of my home state, grimace at the arch rival of my hometown's team, respectfully acknowledge a fellow member of my alma mater's conference, or smile recalling that said alma mater was victorious against UF in the past two football games played, though the latter was heavily favored?  I never know.

Happy Tuesday.

The Mother House

After a few months in town it's easy to grow weary of the noise, the dirt, the trash, and the odors; particularly when all those things are compounded by a line of work that requires watching film after film of undercover brothel footage and reading gut-wrenching legal statements of young girls recounting their existence as sex slaves.  Silent meditation, corporate scriptural study and rich fellowship breathe life into us— that's why we begin every work day with an hour of the three combined. 

Standing alongside a fresh pair of eyes, watching them find the best in everything they see, is among our most rejuvenating practices.  We love having guests.  Along with fresh eyes they bring fresh energy, fresh chocolate, and fresh Starbucks coffee; none at which we scoff. 

Currently our office is hosting a team of staff and donors from IJM UK and IJM The Netherlands.  Today I got to accompany the team to the Missionaries of Charity's Mother House.  While the Missionaries of Charity work throughout the world, this is their home-base convent, and the home to Mother Teresa's tomb.

  

This is the sign just outside the entrance.  I loved seeing that Mother Teresa was "in" today.

Here are some of the nuns arriving from various work stations for Sunday afternoon mass:

 



 

Upon entering the building, the nuns took seats in a small room used for mass.

They sang "As the Deer" during their service.  Knowing the work and conditions to which they've committed their lives in the name of Christ, hearing them sing these words was moving.

When they finished mass, each nun approached Mother Teresa's tomb and knelt briefly in prayer.  

Today the tomb was topped in flowers arranged to read, "Be my fire of love."

 

 

Then, just as quietly as they had entered, the sisters returned to their work in the streets.

 

 

Walking where Mother Teresa had walked, praying where she had prayed, and being among the women who now carry on the mission she began was a source of great peace and strength for all of us.  We were blessed to be reminded that we are not alone in serving the oppressed, and admonished to remember that others in our city perform this same mission in working conditions far dirtier than ours.  Both through the encouragement of the sisters' fellowship and the silent contrast of their tasks to ours, I left with one simple conlusion: our work is not so bad.

On a hill far away

Lately I've been attending a house church of sorts.  It's well established in town, though presently existing without a designated building.  The body meets in the second floor of an elementary school tucked away in a residential area.

Some things about the service are a far cry from that to which most of us would be accustomed in America.  An interpreter stands on stage with the pastor and translates sermons into the local dialect sentence by sentence.  Everyone gathers for chai tea (known here as cha) after each service.  Half the women wear saris.  Half the men wear what would appear to us to be dresses.

Some things, though, feel just like home.  We administer the same sacraments, we read the same scriptures, and we sing the same songs.  The congregation is particularly fond of "The Old Rugged Cross."  Every time they begin the first bar I feel like I've been transported to the deep south.

...only I haven't.  It's not that these people are emulating what was common to my rearing; though it may be more prevalent in my home than in theirs, and this particular song may have been penned in my country.  The principle is simpler: our faith is universal.  This message and these practices are not "just like home" as though my home were the prototype for comparison.  These practices are carried out in the pursuit of the glory of our Lord— a Lord whose nature is steadfast and unchanging from here to the moon and back.  His yoke is transcendentally easy, and his burden is universally light.