Psalm 93:4-5
"Mightier than the thunder of the great waters,
Mightier than the breakers of the sea --
The LORD on High is Mighty!
Your statutes stand firm;
Holiness adorns your house
For endless days, O LORD."
Last night, my house-mates and I went to the Puget Sound (five minutes from our little home) to watch the sunset. Wind whipped hair into laughing eyes and sand flew at us and burned like flecks of fire against our calves as we ran along the tide.
I forgot how big God is.
I felt Him smile in the glowing, orange-tinged clouds stuck against our dome of sky.
I feel like I'm in love . . .
I love this city.
I love these people.
I love this God.
It's been a big week for me . . . back to work, and I love my job more now than I ever did before (though I must confess, I miss my students from last year so bad I almost cried on Wed afternoon - but lots of them have come back to visit). And I feel the meaning in it even deeper this year than last . . .
I started my last semester of grad school Thursday night - it's been a wonderful journey and definitely challenged my worldview - but I have to admit I can't wait to be done (about 100 pages to my thesis now)!
And Friday night felt heavy on the corner . . .
I haven't been out in some time now - except to visit some of my girls one night in August, I haven't been on my Late Night Outreach team since early June. I was excited to go back out - I'd missed so many of our girls . . . and my team. But I think I'd forgotten, in part, the schock of what goes on on that corner.
Ten minutes into the evening, blood was shed - White girl working "out of pocket" - breaking the rules of the street. On the track, the political justice system falls through the cracks - Street Justice holds order. Black girl chased her down the street, grabbed her long, red mane, and beat her face against the pavement until she bled. She ran away crying, dress falling off to expose her vulnerability, face bleeding and torn - legs flecked with blood. I was standing a foot away - using a teacher voice that I knew held no weight here, but unsure of what to do. I would have been a fool to enter the brawl - was I fool to stand there frozen?
The Black girl explained later she'd lost her cousin last week - again, it was a matter of injustice and racism. She didn't know what to do with the anger. She was sorry . . . but she was mad. Under Street Law, there's little grace - eye for an eye, blood for blood - and the wheel of racism rolls on.
An hour later - a 12 year old girl, drugged and glazy-eyed, followed two women to our corner. She admitted to me it was her first night out - but pretended she was 18, in college. Sometimes I have to stop my mind - she was younger than my students. YOUNGER. And I wish I didn't know the violence that she would surely face . . . I wish I didn't know there was a 12 year old girl walking the track in my city at 1:30 in the morning.
Police cars roving the track. They saw her. They did nothing. I had a conversation with a cop that night - normally, I can control my hot-headedness. I was calm when I talked to him - but seething on the insides. He said he couldn't pick a girl up - even a 12 year old - without reasonable cause to believe she was working. (Does walking the track half-clothed in the middle of a cold night count?) He said we were making his job harder - giving the girls reason to be out. (No, no - giving the girls hope to leave.) Those weren't my responses - I was kind.
But if that 12 year old had been a White girl, he wouldn't have left her on the street . . . our team grieved over that together . . .
I wish there was a way I could help my people to see the oppression of racism - I couldn't see it before. Now I can't close my eyes to it. I'm hurting over this city . . .
I remember when I was in high school, and all I could ever talk about was Africa. I remember praying, "Jesus, I know I'm useless in Africa if I can't love my own people - give me compassion for America." My friend Britan and I would drive up to Seattle and walk the streets in the evenings . . . praying and praying that Christ would come to these houses - these streets - these people.
I didn't know that those prayers would lead to this ache - this rage - this passion - for my city, for justice, for peace. I love this city. I love my life. I love these people . . .
I don't want to leave until I see my King come back to wipe away their tears.
