His Voice is Loud

This post is brought to you by Jillian Desrosier. A sophomore in SIS, Jillian has a tendency to bring up tattoos in conversation, avoid studying in favor of coffee dates, and would rather read Steinbeck than talk about politics. She has never been apple picking. Anyone should feel free to rectify that situation. 

When we stand on top of a mountain, in the middle of the creations of our Creator, it is easy to feel His breath in every gust of wind and see His warmth in every shaft of sunlight. It is easy to lift our eyes to gloriously blue skies and pray that His kingdom come down. His power is apparent in the chill of the night and His grace can be found in late-night laughter over sticky s’mores. His voice is loud in the silence of Retreat.JD_Pic

But what about on the day that we return? What about in the following weeks? Is it so easy to feel His breath when I’m late for class? What about His grace when that laughter turns into late night deadline panic? Is His voice as loud in the tension of the library?

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“New” Semester Kick-off

Hello dear readers,

It’s been a while, yeah? It’s mid October and the Community Journal is starting up again with a new look and some new team members. While it looks a little different, it’s still the familiar space as always so here we go! We’ll start a rhythm of posts over the next few days so stay tuned.

-The Blog Team

God of Justice

This is a spoken word poem by Becca Lamb, performed at Chi Alpha’s Exploring Justice Panel.  Becca is a first year from Los Angeles, California and a true west coast girl.  She majors in International Studies and Women’s studies here at AU and loves elephants.

 

27 million people live in slavery today, more than at any other point in history.

1 in 7 people on earth will go to bed hungry tonight- while Americans waste 70 billion pounds of edible food annually.

U.S. female soldiers are more likely to be raped by a fellow soldier than killed by an enemy.

More girls were killed in the last 50 years simply because of their gender than all men killed in every war in the 20th century.

According to the Department of Justice, the average annual income for a pimp in Denver is 1.6 million dollars.

The love of money over people exploits, kills, and abuses millions around the world.

And it seems that with every new number I hear,

every documentary I watch

overseas trip I take

or homeless person I see on the streets of this city,

the heavier my heart feels with the burden of INJUSTICE.

I cry out for the God of Justice of which I read. Is he deaf, is he blind, is he sleeping? or heartless? Because this does not look like a just world to me.

But the heart of the almighty God of the universe was not to sit far away on a throne apart from us- he wanted closeness.

He said,

I want to know my children.

I want to FEEL their pain.

I want to know my children.

I want to HEAL their pain.

and I’m not going to be a commuter,

let me move into the neighborhood,

let me live among them.

I want to dine at the table of the prostitute and of the embezzler.

I want to heal the EXPLOITED

and I want to heal the EXPLOITER.

I have chosen you, and not rejected you. I will set every captive free and make all wrong things right.

I hear the cries of every broken child and to them I say, let me be your father.

The love of money kills, exploits, and abuses. But the love of God restores, redeems, heals.

Because if you feel like you have a burden on your heart, it’s there for a reason.

But you’re not meant to carry it alone.