honest to God confessions from Washington, D.C

I absolutely love the stories of missionaries, old and young martyrs, persecuted theologians, misunderstood reformers, courageous women deprived of rights, and tonight- young peace activists. I have always been encouraged by these stories, yet longing for one to call my own, I have always wanted my own story. Maybe I tried to create a story for myself:

[The curtain unfolds with leading lady, Tracey Harmon, the brave and beautiful soldier for Christ. She enlisted in the United States Military at age 18 seeking adventure to tame her courageous spirit, and, to live out her faith among the secular barbarian whom the church ignores- most “Christians” plug into churches, Tracey plugs into the world of the grunts! Not only does have a “real” background on her resume, she is willing to take the gospel to the third-world barbarian, risking her very life in the entire process. Having traveled to Egypt, Pakistan, Syria, and Indonesia, her heart for “converting Muslims” exceeds the risks, emotional pain, suffering, and fear (after she gets off of the plane). She has the credentials as a “real” Christian, because she comes from a “real” non-Christian background. Oh yes, life for her was so difficult in these circumstances….being labeled as “missionary of the family” and being financially funded to travel all over the world. Having a non-believing brother that is so concerned for environmentalism and social justice issues that he verbally attacks her life’s ambition. Shall we even venture into her life’s atrocities and set backs? A…break up! Emotionally challenging conflict at Bible College! Oh the tragedies! This brave young women has truly stood the test for greatness, her experience in training for combat arms has prepared her for whatever she may encounter on the mission field. Tracey Harmon was made for greatness. CLOSE curtain.]

I think Jesus has a different idea about this life, maybe he has ALWAYS been trying to say something different. He says, if you want to save your life, you will loose it. Was I trying to “save” my life? Or, create an entire world of fantasy…living out and writing exactly what I’d want my biographer to say. God, all I ever wanted to be for you was BIG and known. I wanted fame, and used you as a platform. I’d be lying to say I’m free from that disgusting attitude, because I’m not. When I hear, “you were made to do BIG things for God” I think, “hell yeah…take one look at me and you’ll know of course I was!” Something has been shattered in God's tent of meeting, a place that for now terrifies me to enter into, and it is this very process I will be trying to account in these ramblings.


Now, tonight, I feel like just a face in the crowd, just another girl at a coffee shop tying away on her mac, just another listener at peace conference to the stories of people who HAVE made a difference for peace. What the hell could I possibly do right now? For God, and…for the sake of humanity? I have heard that the first thing is believing we are capable of change…..for it is the thoughts that manifest themselves into behaviors, and behaviors into action. SO…I’ve got to change the way I think, about myself and about life right now- because this is all I’m seeing here in Washington Fucking D.C:

Green is not green; green is red
The sun is not radiant; it is always fading
An M’ & M’ melts into fat; the damn candy stays tone in my hand
Love is not sweet; love is pain
Honeysuckle smells like a weed; not the rebirth of summer
12 casualties is a number; not 12 human lives-

There’s a lot of names on the Vietnam memorial wall, not human lives
The Holocaust pisses me off because there is another Holocaust occurring among Palestinian refugees

Has the machine turned me into a machine? Tonight I heard a testimony from Shane Claiborne at the Sojourners emerging leaders dinner. He told the story of how the community loves and has accepted 2 soldiers: 1 being my boyfriend whom I love to the point of mental exhaustion wrapped in pain and joy; and 2, the story of Jesse. When Jesse was at basic training, he wrestled with the religious conviction of using his weapon, the M16A2 firing rifle. The weapon got heavier and heavier every day, until one day he told his Drill Sergeant he could no longer carry the weight of his rifle. The Drill stopped the marching formation, got straight up in his face, ripped the American flag patch from his uniform and yelled, “A piece of shit like you does NOT deserve to represent this flag!” The Drill made the entire platoon march in circles around him and curse, to the point where Jesse escaped and fled to the highway. A woman picked him up and took care of the A.W.A.L soldier to return home. Jesse was later arrested and discharged from the army- he immediately joined the Simple Way community, the only place of acceptance he found.

That story brought me to tears tonight. Not because of the impact of good Christian lovin' and acceptance, but personal lament over my cold, heartless spirit. I have been in Jesse's shoes, but I didn't listen to the spirit of God and his compassion for people who suffer from violence. I named my weapon "Philly" and treated it like a damn toy. What kind of God-filled spirit person must I be! You see, I'm the one that WOULD pull the trigger on the approaching Iraqi refusing orders from the convoy. I'm the one that WOULD be swept away in the crowd by Hitler's eloquent speech, disallusioned like the rest of them that the war was for the good of the American, oops, I mean German people. I don't feel like a leader, nor even a follower....just a spectator, which is the greatest evil in my mind right now.