Two months ago, my husband and I were watching the Kardashian-style drama (my spell check just corrected the spelling of Kardashian, our culture is in clear crisis) of the RNC unfold and I find the ongoing “Christian card” being played fascinating. Before some of you get too excited or pissed off and quit reading, this is not going to be a Trump-slamming rant, but more of a reflection, trying to understand where Jesus fits into the ideals of many of those whom call themselves Christians in this country during this election season.
Three weeks have passed since we left the Middle East and come back to the world of consumerism, bikinis, bad coffee, endless supply of clean water, and not so terrifying driving. I’ve had some time to reflect on my experience on the Syrian border and the following is a mixture of thoughts I wrote while in Mafraq, as well as some reflection at home. In other words, as the busyness of life in the US quickly reemerged, I may have procrastinated putting these thoughts that I have deeply wanted to share on paper.
If they say home is where the heart is, then I have come home. The sound of horns constantly honking, the smell of cigarettes and cardamom, and the air, it's like my first breath all over again, I even like the near death experiences of driving in the Middle East. It makes no logical sense that some random white girl who grew up in Texas and Canada's heart only feels the most complete in the Middle East. Weird and unnatural, but it's one of the most beautiful feelings I've ever experienced. It could be because I've always loved adventure, culture, hospitality, and amazing coffee is always a win in my life. But more than likely, it's because this is where I learned who Jesus actually is, thousands of miles away from the West.