It's the last day of the year, and as I peruse the pages, the hours of each of the 364 days, I realize that I am hungry. Given, if you compare pictures of New Year's Eve Me 2016 to 2017's New Year's Eve Me, you'd be wondering how in the name of all that's holy, can I be hungry.
But I am hungry. And I'm realizing this 2017's lingering hunger is a manifestation of inward starvation.
This past year, there's been so much that's starved me: everything from a dads dying -- DYING-- on social media, to grown children whose parents didn't live to see this day, to the unspeakable anguish of friends who have buried children.
Then there were the DudeBros chanting Jews will not replace us, to a crowd being plowed over by a car that ultimately resulted in the death of a mother's baby.
Then there's the horror of a President who won't call evil for what it is. And then sometimes -- a lot of times -- I've felt broken by folks who call themselves Christian and turn a blind eye to evil and/or justify evil.
I guess I'm just hungry. Famished.
I'm hungry for courage to call out wrong for being wrong. Courage for myself to do so, and the same for my family in Christ to do the same.
I'm hungry for grace that says I've been blessed with a roof over my head, food on my table, and a stable family. Grace that says there for the grace of God that I or my child could have a disease I couldn't afford without good healthcare.
I'm hungry for ears and a mind so open that views that unlike mine evolve into a conversation bent on understanding instead of a yelling match to outwit one side into winning or losing.
I'm hungry for empathy in the simplest of things. The kind of empathy that helps a stranger in the grocery store find the peanut butter because you remember when you nearly had a breakdown that one time because the dish washing liquid wasn't where it had been for millennia.
I guess I'm just hungry.
Let's raise a glass and hope that 2018 feeds us all.
But I am hungry. And I'm realizing this 2017's lingering hunger is a manifestation of inward starvation.
This past year, there's been so much that's starved me: everything from a dads dying -- DYING-- on social media, to grown children whose parents didn't live to see this day, to the unspeakable anguish of friends who have buried children.
Then there were the DudeBros chanting Jews will not replace us, to a crowd being plowed over by a car that ultimately resulted in the death of a mother's baby.
Then there's the horror of a President who won't call evil for what it is. And then sometimes -- a lot of times -- I've felt broken by folks who call themselves Christian and turn a blind eye to evil and/or justify evil.
I guess I'm just hungry. Famished.
But even so, my hunger carries hope.
I'm hungry for courage to call out wrong for being wrong. Courage for myself to do so, and the same for my family in Christ to do the same.
I'm hungry for grace that says I've been blessed with a roof over my head, food on my table, and a stable family. Grace that says there for the grace of God that I or my child could have a disease I couldn't afford without good healthcare.
I'm hungry for ears and a mind so open that views that unlike mine evolve into a conversation bent on understanding instead of a yelling match to outwit one side into winning or losing.
I'm hungry for empathy in the simplest of things. The kind of empathy that helps a stranger in the grocery store find the peanut butter because you remember when you nearly had a breakdown that one time because the dish washing liquid wasn't where it had been for millennia.
I guess I'm just hungry.
Let's raise a glass and hope that 2018 feeds us all.
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