THANK YOU!!!

We are so thankful for the incredible time we had in India and for the support from you all along the way.  Below are the letters our dear friend Jaime compiled and sent with me to read each day.  Thank you to those who were a part of that inspiration and to those of you who supported us financially and through prayer. The trip was more than we could have asked for or imagined!! 

Below is a reflection written by an SPU student last spring that I shared with our team on our last day. May it be an encouragement to all of us to grow in our awareness of God's presence in our lives. 

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“I am.” The words were largely imperceptible, drowned out by the wailing of the electric guitar and the crashing of cymbals as the worship team led us in another song. “I am.” They were much clearer this time, though still only a faint whisper. “I am.” The words seemed to reverberate in my mind, growing louder and louder each time, as I sat there silently towards the back of the dimly lit sanctuary for this year’s Good Friday service.

As an undergraduate, I came face to face with a God who not only loved me and desired to have an intimate relationship with me, but One who had a heart for the marginalized, the other-ed, the poor and the powerless. Over time, this image of God as a pursuer of all people and embracer of those excluded and exploited began to radically change my understanding of what it meant to be a follower of Christ. My faith could no longer be fully lived out through a steady rhythm of early morning devotionals and extended worship nights in empty parking lots. This image of a God of mercy and justice, of redemption and reconciliation, demanded that I commit to more than just reading the Bible, keeping a prayer journal and occasionally hosting a worship night. This new understanding of God compelled me to step out of my comfort zone, pursue relationships with those who have been traditionally and systemically excluded and to become an advocate for justice. So, I committed to serving in local shelters and soup kitchens. I began volunteering with youth tutoring and mentorship programs in South Seattle and Tacoma. I spent several weeks in the Sonagachi Redlight District in Kolkata, India to serve alongside women who were at-risk of entering the sex trade. Two years later, I spent two months volunteering with a girl’s education and empowerment program for young girls living in the slums of Khulna, Bangladesh.

Looking back, I see now that I still had it wrong. As I sat there, contemplating and meditating on Jesus’ sacrifice for us, He spoke two words: “I am.” Jesus did not simply have a heart for the poor. He was the poor. The Lord says, “I am. I am the objectified and demonized black and brown body. I am the immigrant, immediately suspect because of the color of my skin and detained because of my accent and the cloth I wear on my head. I am the marginalized, the misunderstood, the misused. I am the disempowered, the disenfranchised, the disabled, the dismissed. I do not just have a heart for the broken the weary, the helpless, the hopeless, the tired, the forgotten, the foreigner, the other. I am.”

God spoke with such clarity in that moment. It broke me. I cannot claim to love God if I do not mourn for the hundreds of black and brown men whose lights are snuffed out every day. I cannot claim to love God if I do not cry for the immigrant searching for a home in a land that does not want anything to do with him. I cannot love God if I cannot see Him on the streets, behind bars, under bridges, huddled in shelters, sleeping on park benches and standing on street corners. As Christ followers, may we be compelled to love our neighbors by a God who says, “I am.”

-      -  Megan Motonaga