This isn’t going to be your typical Thanksgiving Week blog post.
But since nothing about the days leading up to Thanksgiving have been average for me, let’s just go with it.
A week ago, a middle eastern man walked into our Mercy House retail store for an appointment he made with my husband and I, set up by friends at church. He works with Syrian and Iraqi refugees who have flooded his country for asylum from ISIS.
As he tried to wrap his mind around fair trade product, economic development, American consumerism and our attempt to redeem it, I could tell his mind was spinning.
Every word out of his mouth was humble as he downplayed the grave risk he takes every day to share the Gospel with Muslims. He doesn’t do it from a pulpit, but he does it by showing up at their makeshift door. Day after day.
He is living a hard life for a good purpose.
As my friend Tara, who runs No.41, a sewing co-op and feeding program for those affected by the genocide says, Because sometimes the Gospel looks like a plate of food and sometimes it looks like a job. But it always looks like showing up.
He lives in relationship with people who have been forced to leave their homes, businesses and family. It’s a sea of refugees, living in temporary homes, in limbo between governments, trapped, not knowing where they will spend the rest of their lives. They have lost everything.
He asked us not to take his picture or share his name because he could be killed since it is illegal to tell people about Jesus in his country.
By the end of the day, as we broke bread together and talked about Living Bread, we were friends. It was holy. This is work, a place, a people group, we long to join hands with and as we said our goodbyes, somehow I knew we would meet again.
Maybe that’s why when our new friend returned with a brown paper sack saying it was a gift for our family, I steadied myself. I slowly opened it and pulled out his personal red patterned keffiyeh. I held up his Arab headdress, smelled the scent of dirt and dust, humbled by a hero of the faith giving his best and I cried like a baby.
I had never felt so alive.
Two days later, I sat in a roomful of non-profit leaders at a gathering hosted by Mercy House. As I listened to another friend, this one a dear Russian friend, a refugee himself, tell his story of faith and the persecution and humiliation he endured because of it, I fought the sobs working their way out of me. His family interrupted our family’s story more than 9 years ago and the fabric of who we are and what we do has flowed from the crossroads of this relationship.
He stood in the rented beach house and told my non-profit friends, who are working in hard places around the world, his story: Imprisoned for his faith again and again. Beaten for the Gospel over and over. Isolated from his underground faith community. Family members kidnapped because he could not, no, would not, stop telling people about Jesus. Escaping to America, losing everything he possessed–his home, cars, business–everything in just 24 hours. He was forced to start over, live by faith, and he chooses every day to risk his safety and comfort to spend the rest of his life telling people about Jesus.
I can’t share his picture because it would endanger his family. But I will share his words to us, to me, to you: “Christians are bored with Christianity and their lives because they are just reading the stories in the Bible. But I don’t want to just hear the stories. I want to live them. I want to be in the epicenter of what God is doing. There are people today–in China, the Middle East, around the world, living the stories of the Bible…right now, at this moment. The cure for boredom requires us to step into spaces that are out of our control.”
And then, he urged us with these counter cultural words that I will never forget, “Do not invest your life on things you can lose in 24 hours.”
As we pause our busy lives this week to give thanks, I urge you, I implore you, I beg you to do a few things:
- Give thanks for what you have. Twice this week, I’ve met people who are risking everything they have–even their lives– so that others may have Jesus, someone we take for granted.
- Invest your lives in more than the American Dream. In a blink, it can disappear. Spend your life and your money helping people. It’s an eternal investment.
- Refuse to live a bored Christian life. Because there are people right now losing their lives because of their Christian life.
My friends around the world are helping me rethink Thanksgiving this year. “Thanks is the new giving.” as Kristine, Director of the global Karama Collection says.
Give some today.
Happy Thanksgiving, friends.
Molly Stillman says
This is beautiful. Thank you for sharing their stories and thank you for your heart, Kristen!
Cindy Smith says
Thank you for sharing what we should really be thankful for and what we take for granted each day. I will remember his words. God bless the refugees and you and your family.
Ann Voskamp says
And giving is the new thanks…..
It’s the story of my life — in that one sentence.
This: “Christians are bored with Christianity and their lives because they are just reading the stories in the Bible. But I don’t want to just hear the stories. I want to live them”
I am carrying this.
With you, love you… so, so, so wish I was there.
a
Karen says
DITTO what Ann said….ALL of it! Thanks Kristen!
Kathryn says
Kristen, Your words come at a time where I feel the Lord, once again, calling our family to more for His Kingdom. He is slowly ripping the scales of this life from our backs and refashioning us into soldiers for His army that looks less and less familiar to others in our comfortable American lives. I love your family’s story, mostly because I recognize the humbleness that comes from being sold out for Jesus. I also understand and recognize the sacrifice, struggle and hard work and rejection from others that comes when you say yes to Him. I pray for you, your family and your ministries regularly and I know we are sisters in Christ, even if we have never met. Be strengthened in your work sister.
Runner says
So, how do I do this? I am trying so hard to figure this out. Is that my undoing? We are foster parents. We have three bio kids. But still I feel I’m missing something. What is it? I go to work, I go to church…I feel like I’m running on a hamster wheel. I’m tired.
Amy says
Thank you for your words. I am refreshed to live thanks by giving and giving through thanks.
SRamsey says
Oh now I needed this Gratitude adjustment! Thank you for not playing it safe with your words or your work so that we step up to the challenge that you so beautifully describe.
Rachel Lundy says
Kristen, your posts are encouraging, convicting, and challenging to me. Thank you for writing so boldly. You are changing the world, and you are challenging more women to go out and change the world too.
Sharon E. says
Thank you so much for this post. I read it for our family devotions tonight and we prayed for the men you wrote about. We also wonder how our lives can be different for the gospel. Not sure what it needs to look like, but we have our eyes and ears open.
Patti says
Kristen,
I was in Kenya just last week and had the chance to spend a few hours with Maureen and Oliver at the Reheema house. What an Amazing experience it was! I am part of a ministry in Memphis called One by One so it was already on my heart, but I love the holistic approach you give to these young girls/women. What a joy it was to hug each of them! I want to do more… and I am looking for what that would look like for me. But so in awe of the lives being changed at those houses! Loved every moment that I was there! Would love to email with you.
Stacy says
Thank you for your words, and all the articles on your blog — they are refreshing and insightful. As I feel God’s calling for revival and invitation to go deeper, I share this prayer with you and your readers. Holy Spirit speak! Show me where you want me to dig, opportunities to spread His Good News, whether by specific words or actions. Thank you, Kristin, for affirming the prompting God has been speaking to my heart, and prayers for those who encounter persecution all over the world.