may iv, mmxvii

writer's block

Writing is something I’ve always seemed to have a problem with. I’ll sit at my desk staring at a blank, white screen for what seems like eternity trying to make up my mind about what I’m going to type out. This probably doesn’t bode well with the fact that I want to be a journalist… 

I don’t know what it is about creating a blog post that seems like such an insurmountable task. I think it may be this creeping thought in the back of my head that says, “What do you have to offer the world through your words? Do you really think people care about what you have to type out on some random website? You’re no expert.”

That’s my form of writer’s block. There are plenty of ideas bouncing around my head that I’d love to type out and share, but I lack the courage to write about them. I can’t seem to put my finger on the reason why that is quite yet. 

Maybe it’s because I don’t feel qualified enough to write about certain topics, or maybe it’s because I think the 20 or so people that may stumble across this page will think the ideas are stupid. It all seems to come back to the root of caring too much about what people think of me. I guess as a journalist I’ll have to get past all that.

These four paragraphs feel like a little jigsaw puzzle. I’m starting to piece together the places that my mind bounces when I’m preparing to write something. I shouldn’t write because other people want me to or because I’m trying to impress someone. I should write because it’s what I want to do. That makes sense.

Thanks for reading through that little thought journey. If you’ve read to this point, I hope you’ve taken something away. I have.

jan. xix + jan. xx, mmxvii

Patriotism, anarchy characterize the 58th inauguration

I traveled to Washington D.C. to document and experience President Donald J. Trump's inauguration. What I witnessed was unlike anything I had anticipated.

Supporters shout with joy as President Donald J. Trump is sworn into office, Friday, January 20, 2017.

As I looked behind me to the mob of protesters holding a large sign displaying “FASCIST,” I finally made sense of the atmosphere surrounding the 2017 Presidential Inauguration. 

I experienced unparalleled patriotism and dramatic defiance of government at the same time this weekend at the inauguration. It was a mood like no other. 

Thursday, January 19, 2017

I arrived at Washington Dulles International Airport Thursday morning with my mother from Atlanta. We immediately grabbed our rental car and headed for the nearest D.C. Metro station to get to downtown Washington D.C. The metro was our main form of transportation, and I could feel my adrenaline building as we quickly sped through the underground tunnels into the heart of D.C.

We emerged from the metro exit to 15th Street, and we made a right turn to walk in front of the United States Treasury building on our way to the White House. We were immediately met with groups of media members and tourists looking wide-eyed at the mayhem of coverage occurring all around them.

Many roads and sidewalks were already blocked off in anticipation for Friday’s inauguration, so we didn’t catch any views of the White House.

We decided to go around the White House to the Washington Monument to walk the National Mall and see the numerous Trump supporters milling around. The National Mall was lined with a few massive screens and metal barricades in anticipation for the next day’s crowds.

Inauguration buttons sit on display for people to purchase, Thursday, January 19, 2017.

There were no protesters in sight as we walked the National Mall Thursday afternoon, and the vast majority of people walking around were clad in “Make America Great Again” ball caps and wore T-shirts purchased from street vendors for the inauguration.

Street vendors stood on street corners, in the middle of closed roads and anywhere they found a crowded block to sell buttons, hats, T-shirts, Trump flags and a multitude of other inauguration memorabilia.

The feeling was bizarre. I thought to myself, “The campaign trail was so vicious and difficult, and now, here in Washington D.C., there are no protesters or shouting matches. Everyone is acting with civility. How can that be?” This thought would quickly be expelled the next day. 

I am also a freelance photographer for the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, and I was assigned to photograph the Bikers For Trump that were planning to hold a “halftime rally” after President-elect Donald J. Trump was to be sworn in.

Attendees stand next to the reflecting pool in front of the Lincoln Memorial to watch the Make America Great Again Welcome Celebration, Thursday, January 19, 2017.

We went to John Marshall Memorial Park on Pennsylvania Avenue, right next to the post-inauguration parade route, to interview a few bikers that were there to understand their plan for the next day. After gathering some information and taking some photos, we headed to the Capitol Building for a moment of pure touristic enjoyment.

By this point, the sun began to set and the Make America Great Again Welcome Celebration had started at the Lincoln Memorial. We arrived at the celebration and tried to get as close to the front of the memorial as possible. 

Looking around, I thought about this celebration in contrast to the “I Have a Dream” speech made by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. given at the same exact spot. It gave me chills to realize that I was standing in the spot as some of those that witnessed Dr. King’s revolutionary speech, and now I was standing there witnessing a celebration of one of the most discussed and turbulent elections in our nation’s history.

President-elect Donald J. Trump and his wife Melania Trump greet the crowd at the Make America Great Again Welcome Celebration, Thursday, January 19, 2017.

As performers kept the thousands in attendance entertained, I kept looking around for interesting photos to capture. Then, after a ten minute break in the performances, President-elect Trump and his wife Melania Trump greeted the crowd at the top of the memorial and walked down the steps to a viewing area. Their introduction was met with a roaring cheer from the crowd with multiple supporters waving American and Trump flags.

It started to get dark, and my mom and I hadn’t eaten nor rested since arriving in D.C., so we left the celebration early to go to my cousin’s house for food and rest.

Friday, January 20, 2017

Friday morning began at 5:00 a.m. when we hopped in the car and raced to the nearest metro station to get downtown. We knew the crowds would be crazy, so we gave ourselves a four-and-a-half-hour buffer. The first events didn’t begin until 9:30 a.m.

We got on the surprisingly empty metro and began the ride to our downtown stop: McPherson Square. We jogged up the escalator to the street and made coffee our No. 1 priority.

After the quick coffee run, we made our way down F Street to 5th Street to wait in the security line. As we rounded the corner at 5th Street, we were met with a wall of people waiting to get through security. 

The mob of people comprised of protesters, Trump supporters, families, journalists and street vendors. Many of the protesters joined together and led loud chants to voice their distaste for the incoming president. The Trump supporters just shook their heads.

As the crowd grew, the chants and tension grew louder and more known. This was the moment the large “FASCIST” sign made its appearance, and it was met with a roaring approval from the mob. You could almost taste the bitterness of the crowd as the unrest grew.

The wait grew longer, and the chants grew louder. We stepped in line at 6:20 a.m. I didn’t get through security until 8:40 a.m.

Immediately after I passed through security, a group of animal right’s protesters blocked the security checkpoint, preventing anyone from entering the inaugural grounds. My mother was going to be the next one to pass through security before the National Guard shut the gates.

I waited on the inside, snapping a few photos of the immediate area, but after realizing the protesters would keep the checkpoint blocked for a while, I wandered around to take in the scene.

An inauguration attendee wears an American flag, Friday, January 20, 2017.

I posted a few live videos, and I photographed protesters carrying signs and Trump supporters wearing flags. The atmosphere was incredibly different from just 18 hours before. There were multitudes of people yelling derogatory statements and chants, but there was also the calm mood from those simply there to watch the ceremonies. 

The protesters eventually moved, and my mother made her way in. We walked to the Bikers For Trump rally, but when we arrived, there were hardly any bikers. Puzzled, I ran to the security checkpoint immediately above the park. Protesters blocked that checkpoint too, and they were not moving for anyone.

A few bikers still outside of security pleaded with bikers inside security to enforce the “wall of meat” that was said to take place if something like this occurred. No more than five minutes later, a group of bikers joined together and pushed the protesters away from the checkpoint. A fight between a protester and a biker almost ensued but was quickly broken up. 

Once cleared, many protesters stayed close to the metal barricade separating those outside security from those inside security. I was photographing biker Chris Z. of Washington D.C. in a shouting match with a protester on the outside of the fence when an egg flew through the metal barricade and smashed on his neck.

Washignton D.C. resident Chris Z., a member of Bikers For Trump, talks back at protesters through a security checkpoint barricade after being hit in the neck with an egg thrown by a protester, Friday, January 20, 2017.

He took a step back, winced and restarted his shouting match with the protester with more fervor. I did not see the individual that threw the egg. At that moment, I knew the remainder of the day would be full of turmoil.

The difference between the mood outside of the barricade from inside were remarkable. The inside felt like a normal Friday afternoon parade and celebration was about to take place. The outside felt as if the wheels had fallen off the wagon, and the wagon was headed for a cliff.

For the next few hours, I interviewed bikers from across the country and snapped photos of people lined up along the parade route. This would be a nice “break” before we hopped right into the thick of the protests outside of the security checkpoints.

As President Trump was sworn into office, the reaction among the bikers was filled with pure joy. Many were jumping up and down, fists in the air, cheering at the top of their lungs. Those attending in protest of Trump’s presidency were completely broken. I’ve never seen such stark emotional contrast.

Biker for Trump Sammy Boone celebrates as President Donald J. Trump is sworn in as the 45th President of the United States, Friday, January 20, 2017.

My deadline for the AJC was approaching so we abandoned the safety of the parade route for the chaos of the streets away from security in search of Wi-Fi. I ended up sitting on the sidewalk to bum Wi-Fi off of a Starbucks. As I sat editing photos and captions, protesters filed by with signs shouting in anger at the events occurring just a mile or so away.

I wondered if anyone saw me. Many of the bikers I interviewed earlier had voiced their clear distaste for the media, and many people shot glares of anger at me when they spotted my press badge around my neck. I sat there nervously filing photos because I had no idea what someone may do to me: a photojournalist.

Once I sent them off, we headed straight to the protests at the 12th Street, 13th Street and K Street intersections. It’s one thing to watch these riots play out on television. It’s another to watch them unfold right in front of you. I approached three lines of riot police Friday afternoon, with the third being the center of it all.

A protester stares down a police officer in riot gear on 12th Street, Friday, January 20, 2017.

The main protest occurred at the intersection of 13th Street and K Street. I walked up, and immediately, I saw a photojournalist being yelled at and attacked for taking a photo of a group of masked protesters. My stomach lurched.

As I walked through the mob of protesters, I saw people hanging from traffic lights and trees. Protesters had climbed on top of a National Guard truck. Some were standing on top of a bus stop shelter.

The protest was divided into two sections. One large group was facing the riot police blocking K Street, while the other group surrounded burning trash cans in the middle of the street. Sweeping back and forth between the two groups evoked two different worlds.

The protesters facing the police we calm, talking and firm in their place. They were not shouting. They simply stood and stared directly back at the police in riot gear. A ten foot gap separated the police from the protesters.

Police officers dressed in riot gear block K Street during a standoff with protesters, Friday, January 20, 2017.

Those surrounding the fire shouted chants, threw objects and continued to fuel the fire. Those on the outside of the fire circle continued to destroy an already smashed limousine. At one point, I was walking by the limousine when I heard a cacophonous noise. A protester had smashed another one of the windows and took off in a dead sprint.

At one point, a Trump supporter made his way into the fire circle and was immediately met by a host of protesters that began throwing him out of the circle and punching him. The man’s “Make America Great Again” hat went flying through the air away from the circle. Media members and other protesters rushed in to see what was happening as many protesters began shouting, “Peaceful protest!”

A protester displays a burning inauguration T-shirt to the crowd around a fire set in the middle of K Street, Friday, January 20, 2017.

I was live broadcasting the protest for The Sentinel, but after about 20 minutes of broadcasting my phone died. That was the signal to leave.

My mother and I left the protest to find our metro station so we could head back to my cousin’s house to prepare for dinner. Along the way we encountered more protests, but these were more like a party. There was lots of music, dancing and calm chanting.

After we left the downtown area, I learned the protesters near the limousine set it on fire and were continuing to amp up the violence. The protests would continue as night fell, and the radio station WTOP in Washington reported that over 200 people were arrested from the protests.

I’ll never forget this historical experience. Witnessing the patriotism that so many Americans hold was something to behold. Many of the people I talked to were veterans, and Inauguration Day appeared to be their Christmas Day. They fought for the freedoms we hold, and the peaceful transition of power is one of the millions of things our veterans fight to keep.

It made me realize there are so many Americans that truly care about the United States. It changed my thought that everyone hates the government and all they do.

The inauguration taught me to have a better attitude toward those that may have conflicting views with me. Our country has been divided over this election season, and the protests were a clear example of that. But seeing the civility of those attending to simply observe the transition showed me that setting differences aside matters when the country goes through something big.

If you’re liberal, conservative, libertarian or anything else, I urge you to consider those around you that have conflicting views and ask yourself this question: Would you be willing to fight for those people with conflicting views if the integrity of the country depended on it?

Those around you live individual lives just like you do, and they feel the same anger, depression and hurt that you do. I urge you to start treating others with as much respect as you desire to be treated with.

For those of you a part of my generation, our children will ask us what it was like to live during this time. What will you tell them?

dec. xiii, mmxvi

decisions

Decisions make the world advance, regress and change minute by minute and second by second. Obviously, each one of us makes decisions every single day of our lives, often thousands of them. Decisions can bring people immense joy, deep sadness, anger, happiness, confusion and pain. Think about all of the decisions you've made this past year. How many of those decisions helped people? How many brought people joy? How many brought people pain? Which decisions gave life and which ones took it? This paragraph has been my mind for the better part of the past three or so weeks. 

My fifth semester of college ended about a week ago, but it seems like the stress of college and all of the work I was doing has simply transferred over to other aspects of my life. My vision has cleared about the mound of work I was doing, and now I can see many of the things that matter more in life than the work that clutters our lives. In fact, the past week has amplified the thoughts of how the year 2016 has been. If I’m being honest, this is a year that I am not proud of. If I could give this year a theme or title, it’d be “Difficult Conversations” or “I’m going to say 'I don’t know what to tell you' in order to hide what I truly feel and want to say or do.”

Don't get me wrong, I’ve had so many bright spots this year. I’d be a fool to think this year was a waste or anything short of wonderful. I had the opportunity to travel to Tanzania, New York City, South Texas, Orlando and countless other beautiful places around the Southeast. I finally feel like I’m in college doing what I’m supposed to do. I became a freelance photographer for the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. God has provided an endless amount of opportunities and beautiful experiences that I in no way, shape or form deserve to have. 

But even with those incredible things, I am still not proud of this year. I’m not proud of my character. I’m not proud of my integrity. I’m not proud of my decision making. I decided for the third straight fall semester to stiff-arm God in the face and say, “I got this.” And here I sit again, at the end of another fall semester, knowing I pushed God out of the picture so I could run my life how I thought it needed to be. How have I still not learned? People warned me about doing this again. People that cared about me told me. Of course I didn’t listen because I thought I knew what was best. But yet again, I’m here, in the same exact spot as the past two years. 

I don’t know if it’s simply the season of Christmas and the beautiful purpose of it, but this time of year has seemed to open my eyes to what my life has been for the past four months of the fall semester. I finally wake up and think, “Oh. Wow. I’ve really, really, really messed up again.” But you know what’s beautiful? God still loves me. He still wants me. He still cares about me. He still gives me grace. And you know what I've done after He continues to give Himself to me? I stiff-arm Him again. I keep taking advantage of Him. That’s no way to treat the one that gives you breath and knows every single step of your life to the millisecond. The stiff-arm comes from me the minute I set my gaze on the things of this world instead of His glory and guiding hand. 

So here I sit. I’m typing my thoughts and feelings of my life from the last 347 days, and if you’ve read this far, I hope that you know I try not to throw myself a pity party all the time. I just want to be honest and genuine. But get this. My goal for this year was to be genuine to people. How’d that go? I haven’t been real this year. I haven’t been honest with people. I’m so easily swayed by what other people think and believe. I’m like a flag in the wind swaying this way and that way. More importantly, I haven't been honest with myself. Not being honest with myself has prevented me from being honest with others. 

I haven't been honest with myself because I have believed the lies of the enemy. I’ve allowed what the enemy says about me to reside over what my Father in Heaven says about me. I am His child. I am His son. I am His. I’m not a waste. I’m not a failure. I’m not worthless. You see, God gives second chance, upon second chance, upon second chance. This world rarely gives you a second chance, much less a third or fourth. Why would I want to look to, or put my faith in, anything apart from God for strength, guidance and hope?

So as I think about every difficult conversation, event and decision from this past year, I see that I have a lot of “work” to do. That “work” will come in the form of spending time with my Savior. He will be guiding my steps, and He will be leading me beside still waters. He will make my crooked paths straight, and He will restore my sight to see Him clearly. I shouldn't need to realize this at the end of another year. I should realize this before it ever becomes an issue. But God will always be there to remind me of who He is and where I’ve been. He’s never left me. He’s been trying to help the entire time. I’ve just been deciding not to let Him. Now, have your way God.

nov. vii, mmxvi

life goes on

I woke up to the sound of a ceiling fan whirring at full speed, a crack of sunlight peering between the curtains and the faint smell of coffee brewing slowly. I had a slight headache, one I’d come to realize was from consuming a tad too much alcohol the night that had ended only five hours prior. As I sat up and freed my eyes of the itch they held, I realized that I had zero responsibilities, plans and duties for next 30 or so hours. 

I reminded myself that this weekend was set aside specifically to spend time with great friends and rejuvenate my drained body. I ventured down to Milledgeville, Georgia, for a weekend getaway with a few friends from the KSU Sentinel photo staff, and one of the staff member’s parents own a lake house on Lake Sinclair about 45 minutes away from the GCSU campus and downtown Milledgeville. We planned to go to the lake house and simply have a fun weekend of much-needed relaxation.

The past four months of my life have been much more intense than a whirlwind of emotions, activities, responsibilities, jobs, talks, classes and meetings. Since the summer concluded, and junior year of college began, I have enlisted four jobs, six classes, continue to live on my own and manage to squeeze in about five to six hours of sleep per night. If I’m completely honest, I’ve become numb to this lifestyle. I’ve accepted the fact that a life as an aspiring photojournalist will not cease to be this way until I’m six feet under. I’ve accepted the fact that I may have to miss important events in the lives of my family members and friends due to commitments that require my attention. But even with the craziness that my life has come to be, I won’t forget about the One who has a better handle on it than I do.

It’s been an awkward journey at times. I don’t currently have a home church. I don’t attend church every Sunday anymore. Part of the reason for that is because I’ve been hurt by a church I’ve called home for a very long time. Another, possibly deeper reason why this new trend has occurred, is because of the way I see our current American church culture. I pray that the Lord would mend my bitter and broken heart and restore my love for the church as an institution. I wish I did have a church home because a lot of times during these past fourth months, I’ve felt isolated by the struggles I’ve endured. I have a community, but because of my own busyness, I can’t devote adequate time to it. 

Part of me hates what my life has become. First of all, I’ve become easily distracted by anything that switches my focus, and this has, in turn, spilled into my relationship with my Father because I cannot devote time to Him. The other aspect of life that I somewhat hold disdain for is the relational side. I feel broken because of the relationships I’ve destroyed. I am scared of commitment. I am scared of breaking more hearts. I am scared to attempt to let someone so deep into my life. Also, who would want to date a guy that is so wrapped up in his work as a journalist, and eventually (hopefully) an international conflict/humanitarian photojournalist? I may be getting weird and mushy and whiny here, but I know all college-aged people endure this thought process in some way.

With that said, I’m not going to allow my joy to be stolen, nor will I allow the excitement and passion for the things I do to be taken from my life. Sure all of those sad and not great things I just listed can seem like that is all my life is currently about, but I remind myself of how abundant my life is right now. I’m loved by the Most High God! I’m in college! I have amazing roommates and friends! I have jobs! I am healthy! I am loving what I’m doing! I cannot put into words how amazing life has been these past few months. If I could make up a word to describe it, it’d probably be, ”Super-awesome-amazingly-beautiful-and-fun-joy-fillied-days-with-a-sprinkle-of-multicolored-sprinkles-on-top.” That’s accurate. 

So yes, I have had a fourth-month hiatus. Yes, as I’ve told so many people I care about, I am sorry I have been so busy. But you know what, I wouldn’t change a single damn thing. Life goes on, and I can’t wait to see where the Lord takes me next because where He’s taken me so far has been pretty freakin' awesome.

april xxix, mmxvi

obeying the still voice

And after the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire the sound of a low whisper. - 1 Kings 19:12

Patience, obedience and conviction are not qualities I tend to pride myself on. Sure I try to be as obedient to my parents as I possibly can. I tend to be fairly patient when it comes to things like food, grades and text message responses. However, I know for a fact that accepting criticism and conviction are not my strong suit. Over the past few months, the Lord has been growing each of these areas. He has provided endless opportunities to be patient in so many situations, but more so than that, He has been convicting me in obedience. What a combination, right?

Two weeks ago I started reading a book called Interrupted: When Jesus Wrecks Your Comfortable Christianity by Jen Hatmaker. I have been obsessing over this book for the past two weeks. It took me three-and-a-half months to read 47 pages of The Comeback by Louie Giglio, and in two weeks I have read 163 out of 240 pages of this book. It’s that stinkin captivating and exactly what I needed. The book was given to me by a friend before I went to Nepal last August, and she suggested that I read it while I was on the 16 hour flight with nothing to do. Of course, I didn’t even crack it open. I was too enthralled with the endless movie choices and season 7 of Parks and Recreation to bother reading on a flight where I could literally do almost nothing. How wise was that?

As always, God has a way of working things out and with perfect timing. Since I had given away the only book I was semi-interested in reading, I decided that I should at least start reading a new book. So I settled with this one by Hatmaker, and boy has it changed my perspective. If you need a book to read, please go buy this one.

I won’t spoil too much of it for you, but the book confronts our current Christian culture in America. We live in a Christian culture that is detached, uninteresting, uninspiring and unappealing to the world around it. Church attendance is declining rapidly. More college age people are leaving the church than ever before. This is simply due to the fact that American Christian culture is completely missing the point. That’s what this book addresses, and I know that I have been missing the point for a while now too. 

31 "When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on his glorious throne. 32 Before him will be gathered all the nations, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. 33 And he will place the sheep on his right, but the goats on the left. 34 Then the King will say to those on his right, 'Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. 35 For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, 36 I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.' 37 Then the righteous will answer him, saying, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? 38 And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? 39 And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?' 40 And the King will answer them, 'Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.' 

41 "Then he will say to those on his left, 'Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. 42 For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, 43 I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.' 44 Then they also will answer, saying, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to you?' 45 Then he will answer them, saying, 'Truly, I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.' 46 And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.” - Matthew 25:31-46

I truly dedicated my life to Christ and His mission when I was a sophomore in high school. Ever since that moment, my life has looked extremely different from before. My mind functions differently, my actions are different and the way I treat others is different. However, since that moment during sophomore year of high school, I don’t know that my heart has truly understood what Christ’s mission was about and what He is truly calling us to until the past year or so. 

What I failed to grasp was that His call on our lives to take the gospel to all people and all nations is not simply when we decide to go to Haiti or Nepal for a week. We aren't supposed to simply sing a few songs of worship to our creator for 20 minutes on a Sunday morning and Wednesday night. We don’t need to drown ourselves in endless bible studies that seem to stumble over the same content as the ten we were involved inbefore. We don't need to continue pouring into vessels that are already weary of hearing the same sugar-coated words of teachers that are seemingly bored with God breathed scriptures. What we must realize is that there is a broken, disgusting, dirty, cruel, harsh, ugly, destitute world that desperately needs a Savior. And we have been enlisted to take what we have been told and show that to the world. We have been enlisted to show the world who our Savior is. 

I understand that we go on mission trips to bring our Savior to the world. I understand that there are local ministry partners that work to reach people in need. I get that we are busy humans that have roles and responsibilities in our areas of life. But what would our world look like if each follower of Jesus realized that the homeless person we pass on the road every single day is actual the image of the same man that taught parables to crowds and raised people from the dead? What would our world look like if we actually cared enough to talk to the person that is sitting by themselves in the dining hall because they have walked through things none of us should ever have to walk through and they don’t feel comfortable enough to initiate conversation with another person? 

God calls us to reach all people. By all people He means ALL people. The people in Nicaragua. The people in Haiti. The people in Nepal. The people in Syria. The people in Greece. The people in Germany. The people in Texas. The people in New York. The people in Atlanta. The people in Kennesaw, Georgia. All people. 

I’m not contending that we go and shove the Gospel down everybody’s throat. That’s already been done, and clearly it’s not effective in showing people how much Christ loves them. But what we can do is be obedient and model Christ and how He lived in His 33 years on earth. We can help those in need. We are all in need in some form or fashion. We can actually start DOING something instead of talking about how cool it would be if someone would do something. Be that someone! I’m telling myself this right now!

It’s hard. You will be judged. You will get weird looks. People will ask you why you’re doing what you’re doing. And that is the most beautiful thing about it. People will take notice of what the Lord is doing through you. People take notice when you are being obedient because it is so uncommon that they are thrown off by it. That is how He is spread to all people. Instead of talking about Christ’s love for others, why don’t we show people Christ’s love for them? After all, we do have the Holy Spirit inside of us and that’s really all we need. We don’t need fancy words. We don’t need a compelling argument, nor a “turn or burn” mentality. Just genuine, real, authentic love and interest. I pray that we would rise as a nation and show the love of Christ to all. Let’s get out of this comfortable position of passivity and start living the lives we’ve been called to. Listen for His soft and still voice. Furthermore, obey it. He will never steer you wrong.

-Cory