7.29.09

This morning was our last morning at the feeding program. Actually, today was full of “lasts”. Sad, yes. But sweet and full.

While Jason and I peeled and cut carrots and potatoes, we talked about everything. We talked about politics, the war in Iraq, President Bush, Presidents Obama, intentions, policies, oil, peace. Then we talked about religion, Christianity, Islam, terrorism, televangelists, tithing, church, Jesus. I’m going to share a bit about what we talked about, but first I just want to say that I’m going to miss him something bad. Jason is such a good listener and full of wisdom. He’ll be the first to admit he doesn’t have all the “right” answers, but he’s got pretty good reasons to believe what he does. I just love him.

So, like I said, we talked over the war and stuff…not much new in that conversation. Just that I realized I have been a lot more opinionated about politics than what I should be for how little I know. Good realization. The religion conversation is what’s clinging to my mind. We wondered about which is more pleasing to God: a televangelist who uses the name of Jesus to make money, or the Muslim devoutly seeking God through the venue of Islam. I have, for so long, been caught up on “Christianity”, the religion. I thought of it like this: all other religions are wrong, but thankfully, I’ve chosen the one that actually leads to God. If someone were to ask me, “Do you think all religions lead to God?” I would have said, “No, only Christianity.” Now I’m not so sure…

Now, before you call Moody and tell them to kick me out or fix my theology, let me explain.

I don’t think all religions lead to God. But I don’t think Christianity necessarily does either (the religion, mind you). I don’t think ANY religion leads to God. I don’t think that Jesus came to start a new religion. I don’t know…I’m beginning to wonder if He came to put an end to religion, the rules and regulations people set up in order to feel closer to God. Instead, He came and said, “Here, instead of following steps to be closer to God, why don’t you know Me, know My Father, and just stop worrying so much about “getting it right”.

There’s this part in the Chronicles of Narnia (which I haven’t read in ages, so bear with me) when they get to “heaven”. There, they see some of their “enemies”, who in Narnia represented Muslims. They ask Aslan (representing Jesus) how they can be there since they followed another, false god. Aslan reminds them that he is the Master of Truth and Purity. He says that any act of pure and true worship they rendered to their god, could not actually be given to him because nothing pure or true is found in him. Rather, any act of pure or true worship they thought they were giving to their god was actually rendered to Aslan because Aslan is the Master of Truth and Purity. Likewise, he says that any act of worship that was impure or untrue rendered to Aslan by one of the Narnians was actually rendered to the other god.

Interesting to think about, isn’t it…

I’m not sure what to make of it all. But when I think about it in terms of the televangelist and Muslim we talked about earlier, I can’t help but think that God is more honored by a Muslim praying whole-heartedly to Him, calling Him “Allah”, and seeking to serve Him, even though misguided by the Koran, than the televangelist who knows the name of Jesus but denies it’s power and manipulates the sick and oppressed so he can have a personal jet.

Yet I know that something happened at the cross, something that now requires people to look to God through Jesus crucified and resurrected. I know there is no other name, under heaven, given among men by which we must be saved. I know Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life, and that no man comes to the Father except through Him. I know that in Him is love and who ever abides in love, abides in God and God in him.

So where does this leave us? Asking. Searching. Questioning. It leaves us not having all the right answers, but also not obsessed with being right all the time.

So, yeah…that was just my morning.

School was wonderful today. I love my students. I shared what I’ve learned during my time here, and how thankful I am to have so many friends in one place. It was just, well, fun. We didn’t sit in desks, but in a circle in chairs and just talked. They are wonderful.

After school as I was walking home, one of the more rowdy boys in the ninth grade started calling my name and running after me. I stopped and waited for him (he ran a looong way) and when he got to me, he handed me a piece of paper. “Please give this to your family, Miss.” I smiled and said I would, and he took off for class again. I opened it as I started walking again. Tears came too quickly. On the paper he had written, in big, artful letters, “Dear Gilbaugh family, We loved Miss. Amy. Thank you for giving us the opportunity to meet her. Love, Jaco.”

I’m really going to miss these people. There aren’t words to express it.

After school, we went to the after school program. Alex taught about Jesus walking on water and we made paper boats with the kids. They are priceless. There’s one kid there that I can’t believe I haven’t written about yet. His name is Alchino, but I call him “Slumdog”, because he looks just like the main character on Slumdog Millionaire (don’t worry, I explained that it was the name of a movie and not meant to be offensive at all). He looks more Middle Eastern than African, and he wears this bright blue shirt that makes you just want to run up to him and tackle him for a hug. I adore him.

We played one last game of Run, Scream and Die and said goodbye.

This evening, we had Walter and Melinda and their daughter Lindsay (a girl in my Bible study), Quinton, and Ariella over for dinner. Ariella came early and gave us girls pedicures. My feet have never been so clean in my life, and I’m dreading the walk to school tomorrow. We made American pizza again (we don’t tell them that it’s not actually American, but our own make-shift recipe) and talked until late in the evening (A funny moment: Walter asked me if my father was a large man. I said he’s tall, that he played football, why? He said the first time he saw me he thought I must have a very large father. Great. Just what every girl wants to hear after eating pizza. Haahaa). What wonderful people God has allowed us to be friends with. We are so blessed.

And speaking of blessed, Chandre came again today! She brought with her a friend and we sat on the outside step and ate jam sandwiches together. The most beautiful thing happened when she was done with her sandwich. Chandre smiled for the first time. It was beautiful.