I have been trying to write for a while, but there just seem
to be no words. Ideas, even thoughts seem to be lacking lately. Perhaps it’s
due to a loss of creativity, or maybe it’s because there are too many ideas and
thoughts on rotation in my mind that the thought of tackling one is too much,
so instead I silence them.
I’m inclined to think it is the latter.
To be honest, I am coming face to face with some pretty
serious questions I have for God. And
I’m a bit scared to ask.
While I know people who have seen more sinister things than
I have, or have heard stories more tragic than I have heard, I have seen and
heard enough. Enough to question where God is at times, or wonder if he is
actually good. Questions ‘good Christians’ probably shouldn’t ask, or have at
least sorted out already in their faith.
I’m not sure about you, but for me most things I hear about
that go on in the world sit at a bit of a distance. ISIS, earthquakes, floods,
etc. While these things are devastating, I am not confronted with the reality. My
reality of those events stay on the screen of my computer. But here there have
been some realities that have met me at my front door, and a lot of the time I
don’t know what to do about it. So, I bury them.
I mean, what do you do when you know children are being
raped? When you see (what you assume) is a pedophile putting two children in
his car? What do you do when a 10 year old girl is crying because her mom will
beat her if she finds out the bracelets she is supposed to sell (for 10 hours a
day) have been stolen? Or when you hear of corruption at every corner?
What do you do when you can’t do anything? What do you do
when it looks like God isn’t doing anything?
I remember telling God if that street girl didn’t find her
bracelets him and I were going to have a huge problem. Haha, I’m sure he was
looking at me tenderly with understanding, but also a little bit of ‘come on,
Janay, do you still not trust me?’
Truth be told, most days I don’t.
Instead of dealing with the issues I currently have with God,
I avoid them. Occasionally, I numb out by watching TV shows, or allow myself to
be swallowed up into a musical vortex while daydreaming of other lands than
this one.
Processing these things seems like a mountain I am not
trained to climb. Have you ever been there?
I suppose coming over to Cambodia, I was under the
impression that I had sorted all this stuff out in my mind and heart already.
After all, I had been on mission trips, seen injustice, poverty, and immense
suffering. Why is this different?
(This is not the end, part two will come soon)
