Thoughts On: Jordan + Jesus as King

I had three distinct experiences in Jordan, during which I knew God was shifting something in my heart. The first was the night we arrived. Our team went out for dinner, hummus and pita and olives and french fries, and as we ate one of my friends told me about what one of our sweet Syrian students in the States had said to her. Last summer, we had conducted a book club where girls from my small group and girls from our refugee ministry came together to read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. The book, written by C. S. Lewis, is a beautiful allegory of good and evil, of the pains of injustice and sin at the hands of the witch and of the beauty of redemption and love through the King of Narnia, the lion Aslan. The girls read the book aloud and discussed the characters, and amidst giggle fits and middle school shenanigans we actually managed to finish it. As I sat in that restaurant in Jordan, my friend told me how she had asked one of these Syrian students who her favorite book character was, and the girl said Aslan. I teared up a little.

The second experience was mid-week, the most exhausting of the ministry days, when we took a group of elementary students, all Syrian refugees, to the zoo and amusement park in Amman. We watched as caged lions paced back and forth, and as a zookeeper taunted the depressed beasts with chicken on a stick. After the students had worn themselves ragged on the carnival rides, throwing up and then going back for more, we settled in for lunch on a row of long benches. The zoo played music for us as we ate, and after a failed attempt at Justin Bieber, the staff played a song in Arabic that caused the kids to light up and sing, some of them hopping off the bench to dance. The experience stuck with me because it immediately reminded me of my American middle schoolers - how it is the same in all cultures, the excitement a good song brings to a crowd of kids. They listened to the song four times, only stopping when the DJ himself got sick of replaying it. 

Our team sang the song under our breath the entire week, and a friend discovered the title this morning and sent it out. I immediately dowloaded it and began to listen to it on repeat, but I figured I should probably look up the lyrics in English to make sure I wasn't listening to something revolting. The song begins with a child singing. "Still young but I have sorrow in my heart, I'd like to fly and fly high and far, but they love cutting my wings." Between choruses, a sing-songy, catchy rap depicts a city destructed by war and addiction to drugs. The rap is filled with gut-wrenching lines. "I hate to live a life worse than death," and "they would like to carry us like animals...the lion is tied in the cage" are only a few of the poignant statements made about an evil regime running it's citizens out of the country. My heart broke as I remembered how those children knew all the lyrics. They knew this pain and carried it around like other students carry around the ramblings of Justin Bieber. The nausea swept over me in waves as the heartbreak made it's way from my chest to my stomach - the song was revolting, just not in the way I had thought. 

The third experience happened on our last day. I had the immense honor and joy of joining a few of our team members to visit the family of the same student in America who loved Aslan. Some of her family lived near where we stayed in Jordan, and we thought it would be a sweet declaration of friendship to be able to visit them while we were there. We sat in their home on cushions lining the wall and once again heard a terrible story, but this time it was connected to people we knew, children we loved and families we had relationship with. We watched and wept as both the men and women in that room cried over what had been lost. Livelihood, heritage, land, homes - all of it was gone. We listened as the father cried out in anguish over the lack of resources and help his people had received. The translator expressed what the man had said: "I see people crying over things that happen to dogs in America - but we are people! Where is the compassion for our entire people?" The anger was evident, but more than anything we could feel the palpable grief - the grief for an entire life, swept away in a war of power and greed and evil. 

It was in listening to this story that something new happened in my heart. I have always wanted to be the kind of person that is able to enter into dark places and still hold a light, but for so long I doubted whether I would still be able to see hope in a world that often seems barren and hopeless. In that moment, though, I felt Jesus. Not the soft Jesus that I have often imagined and preached, but Jesus as a lion - strong and powerful and good. I felt Jesus the King in that room, uncaged and roaring his justice into a place that felt abandoned. I felt the need for a good ruler in that moment, a God who could unite us and bring peace to a ravaged and desolate land. I felt the roar of Christ break through my doubt, through the chains and injustices and heaviness, and for the first time I wasn't swept away by the darkness of a terrible, unthinkable situation. For the first time, I felt the sacred peace of a Lord who fights for us, and I felt the need to speak his name and his power into a people that has largely been forgotten and left to fend for themselves. 

I read Isaiah 61 every day this week. I read it because I needed to, because I knew of my own tendency to forget God's goodness in dark places, but I also read it because this passage has been doing something new in me recently. I am being reminded that Jesus proclaims good news to the poor; that he binds up the brokenhearted and brings freedom to the captives. He releases prisoners from darkness, and anoints us with joy instead of mourning. He loves justice - and he rebuilds what is in ruins. I don't know what God is going to do with my experiences on this trip - but I know that he is placing these words into my bones. I know that he is rewiring my mind to believe this word - that he is good, despite the pain. It is true, and I will declare it from every mountaintop and valley I walk: Jesus is King.