Let me explain this title: Freedom.
This is something that is found in Christ. Something I cling to. Freedom knowing that I have the promise of an abundant life because of God's grace. I have freedom to live and live out loud. Freedom to not focus on my past, knowing that Christ's blood covers those sins. Freedom in knowing that I can lean on His leading, His guidance, and His wisdom always. Freedom to not fret over my future, knowing that He has all control over those details.
In Beit Jala, I have freedom, as a Westerner, to roam and wander around the area (as most, if not all, women here are bound to their homes-- especially if they do not have a male escort while out).
I have the freedom to worship the Living God.
I have the freedom to voice my opinions.
I have the freedom to dress as I feel.
I have the freedom to do a lot of things, if I really think about it.
But yet, I feel trapped.
My freedoms suddenly have constrictions attached.
My freedom of worship has constraints, as I can not do so in public places.
My voice is suddenly made silent when out and about.
My dress is now transformed to where I fret about my elbows and knees becoming exposed (well, in parts of the city... not all).
As a Westerner, I also have an automatic stigma of being promiscuous. I have an automatic stigma of being rude. I have an automatic stigma of being arrogant. I have an automatic stigma of being an enemy. (My mother country is, after all, an ally of the "other side.")
You would not even know the number of times I feel others staring at me, because of my hair color and complexion, thinking these thoughts of me. (Here's a hint: It's every time I leave my apartment.)
So, this can be, at times... Well, binding and causes me to feel discouraged. How can one judge me so quickly?!? They don't even KNOW me!
Even though these things can cause me to become bitter, Christ reminds me of where I should focus my attention-- on SHOWING them love. Not only speaking it. This could be the simple smile to the elderly, Muslim woman I pass on the street (after I see her glare at me questionably). This could be saying "Marhaba" (hello) to a stranger. This could be a lot of things... the key is to be available for those tasks.
And, another thing is to remember that I am not the one working here. Christ is.
That may mean that I do not see the fruit of my labor. And, I'm fine with that. I know that God is going to cause these dry lands to overflow with the living water one of these days, and that fuels everything I do. I just don't quite know what that is going to look like... but, I'm excited to help the people here prepare for that day.
But for you, my readers, I hope that this post encourages you to not instantly judge those around you, especially our nation's "enemies." Our Arab friends are people. They are not merely a statistic. Nor are they a threat. They are not terrorists. A terrorist has no face, has no country, has no ethnicity. A terrorist is a terrorist.
I urge you to treat all as beloved treasures, for that is how God views them.
Because, let's be honest, undesired pretenses of character are no fun to live through.
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