Jobin Sam

Jobin Sam Follow

losing my life to find what cannot be lost

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Whether it is in the land-of-the-free or here among the lowest of humanity (deemed by the index of the developed world), every day is a dance between two choices - subvert or surrender. In an age when fear & hatred are trumpeted as free speech, civil religion is lord and leaders show 'n tell with nuclear arsenal, nations with moral high ground sanction state executions and maintain world peace- the scaffolding of the human system is ours to (re)build. Blessed are those who hope and subversively practice the promise of Heaven on earth- where the last shall be first, refugees belong, and all of creation rises with wings of the dawn // We are so thankful for this widow who ministered peace to our hearts even as we mourned the death of her grandchild
We've been here before so many times and it never gets any easier.. time only binds the love we leave deeper. I've been learning more about the Moravians of the middle-ages, and how they packed their coffins along where they set out. What a witness! So here we stand with our one-way plane tickets and surrender, because Love is the end in itself. There is no contingency, insurance policy, exit strategy. The Cross before me, the world behind me
Keeping family traditions alive :))) our first date was a walk along the Pacific, our wedding was by the coast, and now we got to introduce Emma to saltwater, swells & surf
From everyone I've met across cultures, creed & character, I keep finding the most attractive attribute of a person to be the measure of their humility. In a world where the wise, the famous, the gifted and the powerful are rather common, it is a rare thing to find the humble. Have you ever met someone with such meekness, like all they saw was the image of God in you? The ones who hold a different beauty standard than the sight dovetailed by fitness & fashion. The eyes that define greatness by gentleness instead of strength. The hearts that became full by letting go instead of getting more. In a world of white picket fences, thank goodness for the flowers that can't be fenced
I'm so humbled that I get to share the title of family beside these beloved souls who are a living reminder daily of the grace of God in my life. This munchkin turned 2 years old today🙈
Against an age where everyone needs to be seen and there are social platforms to placate our pride, I love the story that's told in trees. They've seen more stars and lived through more storms, they've stood there longer than our stand in the world, they've reached higher and still gone deeper; but they never demand an audience or lust to be understood. Whether their beauty is noticed or missed, they are still there daily giving glory to the Author of life. As I get older, I'm learning to choose reticence over the need to be recognized and wear mystery like well aged trees
We are finally getting settled into life in Australia now and so thankful we get to be with family for this short time. It always feels like a world within a world; there is so much to process, even for Emma, but it's all worth it for moments like this. Four generations together and the toddler doesn't care about personal space :)) There are 95 years between them, but the Kingdom of Heaven is all over that space
In a world that questions or renounces the reality of God, I love that Heaven doesn't have any lawyers.. I love that Christ never asks us to become anyone, except like a child. Even at a place like this refugee camp surrounded with questions and pain, I'm reminded of my nothingness and what I have to give. (Especially for a nobody like me, who am I to get into a turf war with UN?) But as I reunite with my neighbor and love them as myself, I'm understanding that hope doesn't lie in our humanitarian response but in giving people back their humanity. So even in running around & playing tag at a refugee camp, I'm reminded of the call to being child-like and the Kingdom that's beyond me
As we contemplate the Cross, I've been stuck on this detail the last few days... how when the soldier drove his spear into Jesus' side, blood & water came flowing out. I've never heard of anyone bleeding water. Maybe it was because every drop of blood was already shed. Maybe that's why a crucified man would complain of thirst (of all things). Nevertheless, I don't want to miss the mystery for biology here. As I behold the Cross, my prayer is that my life would be poured the same. That when I'm wounded or pierced open, mercy would pour from me. That when I ache or thirst, rivers of living water would flow from me. That when I walk the baptism of sacrifice and suffering, my love would be born of water & blood
There's something to be said about God "calling things that are not as if they were". I read that text over and again as some part of me makes sense of it, yet not beginning to fathom it. What would it look like to see that which is not as if it were? That kind of imagination, wonder, belief. How a butterfly could be borne within a caterpillar, a forest be waiting in a seed, an ocean be running in a stream. Against a plastic society where "it is what it is", it's so freeing to know that we are made in the image of One who brings life from suffering, beauty from ashes, and things that are from things that aren't
Growing up, I remember praying that my life would be 'used by God'. I can only imagine the look on His face- somewhere between humouring God and hurting Him. I can only imagine the ache I'd feel if my daughter thought that I would ever use her for anything. The revelation of God as Father, as Love, is removing language from me which is a conceited cocktail of religion & the system. Because now I hear the Father saying over me, "no, I don't want to use you. I would never *use* you, Jobin. People use people. I just want to *be* with you". These days, my prayer is that my identity isn't warped in works or watered into ministry, but that as we lift up the suffering in the world, our prayer as a family would be "send me"
Maybe we distance ourselves from suffering and those who suffer because our definition of "neighbor" looks a lot like the image in the mirror. But when my knees touch the ground, the wounds of this world become my own