And the Friction Bleeds

The other day I watched a documentary called War Dance with the rest of my program. It was a movie about the atrocities going on in Northern Uganda right now with the LRA. It was an incredibly well made movie. I would make all of you watch it if I could because it is an phenomenal documentary. I won’t tell too much about it because I really think you should see it for yourself (make sure you have a couple of boxes of tissues handy), but hearing these kids stories just tore at my heart. I normally don’t cry that much, but at one point I could feel the tears sliding down my cheeks. During the movie I think I felt some of the truest and deepest emotions I’ve felt yet on this trip. I have a passion for those kids who are fatherless or just unloved. While watching the movie it was like the right note was played and my whole body resonated clearly with it. For the next 24 hours I had this anxiety in me because I’m not sure what God wants me to do with this passion and so I wrote a poem about what I was feeling and thinking about and I wanted to share it with you.

So why am I here?
What should I learn?
I want it to be clear
God, for what purpose do I burn?

You meet me there
Where my passions lie.
A constant heart tear
That triggers my cry

You planted it deep
That small prick in my soul
It’ll push ‘til I leap
Because it threatens my whole

I desire to reach out
To find the dark and be the light
And yet I feel such doubt
As to what to do and where to fight

And the friction bleeds
Because I see the gap
Between my thoughts and their needs
I wonder when is the overlap?

You’ve given compassion
Filled up to the top
And empathy’s been fashioned
To each breath I drop

These gifts have been granted
To pair with my hope
So a mission is planted
To struggle up the slope

I’m not sure how to start
Or where this passion will be placed
I want to be a part
Of every lost, orphaned face

But for now I’ll start small
With learning and prayer
Until the day when his call
Gives a next step if I dare

A father to the fatherless, a defender of the widows, is God in his holy dwelling. Psalm 68:5