When the world is in turmoil: Friday 13th November 2015

Something awful has happened in recent days. Awful and shocking enough that capital cities all over the western world are changing their nightly illuminations to reflect a spirit of one-ness with the nation that drapes itself in a blue-white-red flag. The seven attacks across the city known for love sealed off the lives of at last count 129, maimed another 350 unique and normal people, shattered a much greater number of dreams and hopes, and devastated the hearts of loved ones and indeed, the whole nation that is called France.

It’s remarkable that this horrific event has occurred in the wake of Remembrance Day which earlier this week, called all us Australians to a moment of solemnity. Out of this association arises a call I am driven to echo: Let us not be a people that are stubborn in solely self-focussed patriotism, but rather, let us be swayed by the storms that unrelentingly cause severe suffering to named human souls with whom we share this planet.

Many voices are clamouring that suffering is not isolated to France and are disheartened by the attention it has drawn from the western audience. I do, however appreciate that this is for many, more close to home. We all know French people. N’est-ce pas?  En fait, I have two very close French friends and more who have each imprinted upon my life. Just a few weeks ago I spent a beautiful evening dining in Frankston’s new French restaurant with friends, making plans to get the “French Breakfast” flavour into T2 and laughing at one another’s impersonations of French dialogue. I know a few people travelling within Paris currently, and the culture I’m part of values individual people and lives so strongly, every single one. We do care if a single life ends prematurely, not just if a community or population’s mark is erased. That’s our mentality. Our Christian heritage, as a western country, has sewn into us a God-given appreciation for the sacredness and value of every single human life. Personally, my heart feels a heavy weight as I think of the paramedics, nurses, and emergency personnel, and try to envision what it’d be like to walk a few steps in their shoes, en route to the mass casualty incidents of this weekend. The job you train specifically for but never think will eventuate. Ironically the colours of Ambulance Victoria and the career I’ve spent four years with my heart set on, mirror the blue white and red of the French flag. It’s something I notice. I wonder if in such a time as this, it’s a feeble sympathy that causes these connections to surface. 

Yes, I’ve travelled to Egypt, Israel, the Middle East, to nations of Southern Africa; I have close friends who have escaped the increasingly commonplace terror oppressing these countries. Yet France has infiltrated our culture in some unique ways and that is what I want to capture amongst the outcry that white skinned people only care for fellow white skins.

(I will definitely write further on this so stay tuned...)

This afternoon as I jogged the familiar route responsible for my fitness, Casting Crowns broke my rhythm with the soaring melody that is “White Dove Fly High” (lyrics only). I was reminded through the opening lyrics that as inhabitants of this earth we are many peoples, but we are human; and we express the same emotions yet through different syllables and sounds. The fourth stanza drew my eyes to a blue sky, then the imagination of a white dove and then my mind immediately contrasted with this the shed blood of many quenched souls laying upon French soil; White. Red. Hope juxtaposed with tragedy in the French flag.  Blue. A sky under which all of humanity, and indeed we Australians, stand. 

As a sister, a daughter, I mourn for each single life that was lost last Friday and for the families that the bullets broke. I hope that they had a trust in Jesus Christ, a relationship with the Spirit of God who descended in dove-like form, whose peace, whose calm refuge and shelter promises victory, purity, unity, beauty: under whose wings the scared soul is safely hidden even in storms. In death such a believer makes the passage to eternal life, the early ending of their earthly life a loss only to we who are left behind. It is Jesus who stirs me to weep with those who weep; to mourn with those who mourn, and this I do in contemplative humility. How do we honour each life? By giving time. By setting aside moments of respect to take in the loss, and then to take out a deepened gratitude for blessings and freedom and a reinforced resolve to overcome evil with good, to live peacefully, to love our neighbour, to speak up for the oppressed and fight for what’s right.

This world is stuffed. Natural disasters, global warming, and today’s unsurpassed human depravity signpost decay. Where is hope now, where is hope here, when a world is catastrophized by an abundance of evil that is evident just this weekend in ISIS, in Boko Haram, in Japan’s earthquake, Baghdad’s funeral bombing, Beirut’s suicide bombing, Mexico’s earthquake? In my contemplation I read a truth that radically, makes me rejoice: that “the Lord Jesus Christ gave himself for our sins to rescue us from the PRESENT EVIL AGE, according to the will of the God who is our Father” (Galatians 1:3-4).
Thinking of the cross, I am taken to the feet of the most glorious king and the most humble human and I realise that there Jesus’ arms are spread wide, opened up to embrace me and to embrace my fellow Aussie, my French brother, and every other member of the human race. 

I hope and pray that (like the song lyrics) this country’s clean and blue skies should be cloudy and grey not forever. That what I hear about France will give me thoughts of wings of hope spreading wide, a white dove dancing, flying free and happily. What I am praying for is heaven - and whilst that can only be reached from the other side of death, we can receive that heavenly experience in daily life through the invitation of Jesus to live within us and transform us with His powerful love. The city of love is injured yet through this God I have love within me that could not be displayed by even the greatest human city.

~ His perfect love alone drives out fear ~

What about the refugee crisis?

Distressed, war-persecuted, trauma fleeing faces and feet are flooding Europe, seeking asylum, yearning for protection, walking forward in the hope of finding a place of peace to rest their feet. They know they are leaving home, leaving their cultural identity, leaving the things that have formed who they are and yet they must - to survive, so they do it almost unthinkingly, like responding actively to that inner voice, the survival instinct.

Last night I rallied with thousands of other Melbournians who share a belief that humanity is created equal, that we Australia, have boundless plains to share and want to not only sing that in chorus but courageously act upon it and lobby our government to do so by increasing the number of refugees we agree to settle. This one night won't make a huge difference in the scheme of things- in reality standing in the cold with a sea of candles does not constitute grand action. It does however, form a part, a picture of the message-spreading we must relentlessly engage in. In a western world where it is only too easy to make choices that disconnect us from the reality of the wider world, or to shroud ourselves in amusement and entertainment and our own pursuits, it is a big shift to engage in the fight for refugees and do so with conviction. I am guilty of this- I must confess I have removed myself so far from these situations that it's like I need to be physically punched to feel the sickness that should naturally wash over me as I saw the picture of 3yr old Aylan washed hopelessly and helplessly onto that shore. I want to feel deeply, to love with sincerity and to use my resources to help in the capacity im enabled to- but the tool behind this is KNOWLEDGE. Let's stop shutting our minds, let's stop being scared of the stories of suffering, let's listen to someone's story, their journey, the refugee in your local neighbourhood or on the bus who has to wear a mask and struggle to find a niche in this complex culture. This means I've gotta ask. I've gotta choose to ask their story when there's a million other things I could be doing. I want to unashamedly sing "for those who've come across the seas we've boundless plains to share" as a proud Australian citizen- and sing that with integrity. It's one thing to lobby our government to alter policy but another and equally important thing, to convey a welcoming attitude to those who ARE here. To be welcoming, not hostile to be available not distant.

To finish this post, I will reflect on my somewhat sleepless night. After the #lighththenight rally, I travelled home, read up on previous notes from refugee health events i'd engaged in, and prayed. I brought these people to their Maker and then I closed my eyes. Moments later I found myself in a crowded room next to a hidden boat ramp. I was told I'd be on the second boat, two boats would leave that night anytime from 7pm as we had to wait til dark. Eventually the first one went, I said goodbye and blessed those who were to leave and I prepared my essentials- priorities for what to take were based on survival: the 10hr journey was anticipated to be very cold and so I got a beanie, gloves, 2 layers of clothing and a jacket, I was told there wasn't room for more. Finally I was ready but I also wasn't. I worried I'd be cold, I worried about what was happening next, and I wondered why on earth this was happening when I took a last look at the fading boat where 2 dozen people lay supine on the floor of the boat- no room to move at all. One of my closest friends was in that boat, he looked back at me with a sad smile. Even as I waited for my boat with a family of Pakistani friends and another very close friend I worried that we wouldn't be warm enough, I was so anxious. And then I heard we'd wait another whole day because the second boat was not coming this night after all. Tomorrow night at 7pm. I hoped our money wasn't in vain. Worried and waiting.

And then I woke.

I don't know what this dream meant but I feel like it made me get in touch with the refugee experience more, and get a more tangible glimpse of their reality: it was mild but by combining this surreal experience with my knowledge and with the personal stories I've heard, the issue is coming closer to home.

I am a blessed and privileged woman. 

It's not my right to live as if in ignorance.

I am called to stand up for the rights of the poor and needy.

I am called to love and welcome.