Not all who wander are lost

It’s my 32nd birthday today. And like every year’s celebration, today is filled with ample amounts of reflection on the road which has led me here. For me that’s one of the most important parts of getting older; remembering how I got to this moment and savoring the path I've walked so far.

Today also reminds me that I’ve been brought out of What Was and into What Is. Out of the parts of life which held death and into the new growth. In this way I am a traveller, just like you. We are all being offered movement, moment by moment and day by day, out of the parts of our stories which hold death and brokenness into new life. Travelling through the broken bits of living and toward health and wholeness, is what change is all about. We are creatures of change because we are broken creatures living in a broken world who yet crave the beauty and goodness living offers.

In turns out being a traveller is at the core of the human experience. 

Did you know we just past World Refugee Day? I’ve been thinking about it the last week or two as the day aligns closely for me with marking the passing of another year. It reminds me that in a small way, I am also a refugee - moving out of the death that parts of life bring and in search of new life, safe from the turmoil and lament of the paths behind me. 

While many, many parts of my story are different than refugees from around the world, at my core I am not so different than they. I want the same things; a chance for a better life, to keep my family together and healthy, to provide for those around me and to live without persecution. 

We are far more alike than the divisive voices around us might suggest.

This is one of the things I find most compelling about the story of Jesus. That God Becoming Man could have chosen any path, any stories to engage humanity with. But he not only chooses to come in poverty and to the forgotten parts of the world, but as an outcast refugee without a home. The Divine moving toward deeper intimacy and relationship with humanity does so by first moving away, together alongside us, from the broken bits of culture, society and the human condition into New Life. 

The supernatural begins in mud, straw, dung and camel drool. Because sometimes that’s where we find ourselves, down on the floor beaten down by life and tossed aside by the world. So that’s where Jesus meets us, right where we are.

Yet, a couple thousand years later as I find myself identifying more than ever as a traveller, as a refugee moving through my story out of death clinging to the hope of more life, I also live in a part of the world which is hostile toward immigrants. And worse, in a part of the world actively tearing apart families, forcing them into concentration camps and letting children die cold and alone on the floors of cages. 

I’ll never experience those things; I’m an affluent white man from a privileged background who never has to be concerned with the authorities knocking on my door in the middle of the night and dragging me away from my loved ones because I didn’t fill out paperwork correctly. 

But I empathize with what is happening just down the road, so to speak, from where I live. And if you are anything like me, which it turns out you are, maybe you feel this brokenness too. This disconnect and simultaneous intersection of getting a bit older, seeing God moving among us, being disgusted by what is happening in this state and across the world to those who are trying to find New Life, and wondering in the middle of all of this what your small part might be. 

So on this, my 111th birthday [Link and strikethough text] let me offer up a few thoughts for us to hold together.

First, may we never stop remembering What Was. When we forget how we got here and discard the rich history of the roads we and the people before us have walked, we lose a part of our soul. We are made for memory, even the parts of our story which are deeply painful to recall. 

Second thought: action is the catalyst of change. The world is changing all around us with the passage of time and the movements of others, but change in our own lives comes from the actions we choose to take. And sometimes, it’s hard to know what to do and how to move forward. I hear you, and I’m in the same boat. Especially when we feel powerless to enact real change. So here are a few practical ways to love your immigrant and refugee neighbor today:

Check out this checklist of practical ways to take action and get involved on behalf of people who are powerless to enact change for themselves and their loved ones. 

Make a donation to the ACLU specifically to help fight the poor legal precedents set by our nation’s lawmakers and spotlight change on a large scale. 

Plan to show your support of immigrantion reform in person by attending an upcoming march as they become available in your area. Or, consider taking more drastic and immediate action by visiting one of the detainment facilities in person. 

Lend to refugees in other parts of the world as they start new lives in foreign lands. Or make a direct donation to a family in need. 

Have a conversation. The first step in solving a problem is recognizing there is one. Many people don’t believe the horrors occuring in our borders are real problems, or are unaware of the atrocities we as a nation are committing.

Finally, I'm struck by this reminder at the doorstep to our nation; the first thing people encounter as they come to our New World:

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,

With conquering limbs astride from land to land;

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she

With silent lips. 

“Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

We are a nation of immigrants and refugees, people looking for new lives across the sea far from the broken places they once called home. This is our history - it is the What Was. So as we carry on into What Is this year, and as we get just a little bit older, may we find fresh courage to take bold action not only on behalf of others, but in our own stories as well.