Poor Inspiration

Inspiration is a funny thing. It strikes when it wants to, it lingers at its leisure, and it conceals itself with great profundity. Yet, when inspiration graces the stage, all eyes are captivated by its moment. The moment of inspiration is as elegant as a wedding gown and yet as vicious as a surgery with no anesthetics. The poking, prodding, constructing and deconstructing that goes into inspiration deserve to be feared - for no greater pain can come from a moment of inspiration. And yet, inspiration is the avenue to a beauty that words simply fail to describe. The product birthed from a moment of inspiration can change the lives of not only the mother but all those that come into contact with her new child. For inspiration leads to transformation, and as the caterpillar can attest, all moments of metamorphosis carry a dose of pain with its grandeur.

As many of you know or can at least deduce, this is my first post since last October. It is not because I do not enjoy the potential community presented by this forum nor is it because I despise writing to the specters I assume will read this entry. Rather, I simply did not encounter inspiration until this post. Simply put: God has transformed my heart and my mind to actively care for the poor.

I have long ignored the elephant in the room labeled Christianity when I recognized the trunk stretching out for another "hand-out". I have long distanced myself from the nameless faces that I pass as I drive down main street. I have long rejected the whispers of the spirit in the tears of the oppressed in order to justify my own status and comfort. The past 6 months have put this latency in my heart to death.

God has transformed me in a way I cannot describe. My family and I are still beginning this journey, and we know we are going to make stupid mistakes, a few enemies, and even some good friends mad, but we can hide from the beckoning of the Spirit no longer. For as a sinner who is poor in the spirit, I look at those that are poor in economics and I see myself in their eyes. I want to know their names, I want to know their stories, and I want to know their pain as my own.

How do we do this? I don't know. But my family and I are taking two steps. 1. I am going to be utilizing this blog to reflect on the realities of those that are poor around us for the next several months. I am convinced that opening myself up to possible criticism through a blog forum is the only way to also open myself up to the wisdom of God through his community. 2. My family and I are going to sell our house and move across town to the "impoverished" section of the city. We have had our hearts torn asunder by God's spirit and united with another family with whom we will move into an intentional community in this part of town.

I know this is foolish and I know this may seem rash, but something has to happen because inspiration has struck and her beauty has captivated my heart. I cannot let her out of my sight for her countenance strikes fear in my soul that can only be described as holy.