The Caravan's A-Comin'

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The caravan’s a-comin’

The images are stunning. A stream of humanity stretched across a bridge, down a dusty road, marching.

What do you see when you look at the photos and footage?

The caravan’s a-comin’

What do you see? Do you see the families torn apart by the violence in Honduras?

To the journalists embedded among them, making the journey alongside them, they tell stories of horror, violence, and threats.

They move forward because they have to. They move because that which is human within them compels them. You would be moving, too. You would be marching if you were in their shoes.

The caravan’s a-comin’

What do you see?

I’m reminded of the Zimbabwean song which has become such an important tune in American churches, called Siyahamba.

We are marching in the light of God, we are marching in the light of God; we are marching in the light of God, we are marching in the light of God.

We are marching, we are marching, ooohhh,we are marching in the light of God;

We are marching, we are marching, ooohhh,we are marching in the light of God.

The caravan’s a-comin’

What do you see? Here’s what President Donald J. Trump sees:

“Let me just tell you something. I spoke with Border Patrol this morning. And I spoke to them last evening, and I spoke to them the day before. I speak to them all the time.

“And they say -- and you know this as well as anybody -- over the course of the year, over the course of a number of years, they've intercepted many people from the Middle East. They've intercepted ISIS, they've intercepted all sorts of people.

“And they said it happens all the time, from the Middle East. There's no proof of anything. There's no proof of anything. But they could very well be.

“But certainly you have people coming up through the southern border from the Middle East and other places that are not appropriate for our country. And I'm not letting them in. They're not coming in.”

The caravan’s a-comin’

What do you see?

It’s a question of perspective.

Politicians see terrorists, ne’er-do-wells, criminals, rapists, security threats, interlopers, and illegal aliens. They see brown skin, poor health, and hungry, thirsty bodies.

Disciples of Jesus see people in need; families with little hope, mothers with children, laborers with nothing to do, girls who want a chance. In other words, they see Jesus himself. “Just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me,” said the king in Jesus’ parable (Matthew 25:45).

The caravan’s a-comin’

What do you see? Can you see yourself in that great march? Can you see us in that mass migration?

I’m reminded of another song that we sing at church, a hymn called “A Wilderness Wandering People”:

We are a wilderness wandering people on a journey of the soul. 

May we find our destination in our longing to be whole. 

Our Holy God is calling to us. 
With Jesus by our side may compassion be our compass; 

may the Spirit be our guide.

May we cherish all our children, let us heal our family’s pain.

Help us cure our city’s madness, let love and justice reign.

Reconciled with one another in prayer and praise and song, 

we’re the body of Christ together and we know that we belong.

The caravan’s a-comin’

What do you see?

The Parable of Living Water

The following story comes from a sermon preached by Bishop Michael McKee on Monday night at the Clergy Retreat, which Kay and I attended. I don’t remember who originally told it, but I thought it was worth stealing:

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Once upon a time, a holy man discovered a spring of water that had magical powers. The waters healed those who were sick, inspired those who were depressed, and gave immortality to those who drank it. The man built a little hut next to the spring and spent all his time there. Soon word began to spread of the living water, and other people began to build huts nearby. A thriving community built up around the waters.

One day, as yet another family moved into the area, someone suggested that they build a fence around the village. A fence with a door and lock was hastily constructed. But as soon as the fence was built, the water stopped flowing.

When the holy man discovered what had happened, he packed up his things and left the village. He wandered through the countryside until he came upon another spring with living water. Once again, he constructed a hut and moved in to stay. Soon word began to spread, and other people followed him. A thriving community built up around the spring.

As the population swelled, again someone suggested that they build a fence around the community. Again, a fence with a door and lock was built. And again, the water immediately stopped flowing.

When the holy man saw what had happened, he packed up his things again and left the village. This time he wandered farther and longer, but again he found a spring of living water. Once again, he built a small place to live.

You can imagine what happened — word got around, and the people came. They built a thriving community again. And once again, someone suggested they build a fence around the village.

This time, however, the holy man said, “No. We won’t build a fence, or install a door, or put in a lock.”

To this day, the holy man still lives in that place, in the midst of a thriving community, for the spring of living water still flows.

How are we constructing fences around the living water of the gospel?