This letter was first shared in an email update sent on November 7, 2022. I am sharing it again here with some additional thoughts out of a desire to share more of our recent experiences with you all as God has been deepening our understanding of Advent in this season.
Here we are again, the end of another year is quickly approaching. That means our calendars are beginning to overflow as we try to manage all of the holiday activities on top of our already crazy, everyday lives. In the midst of planning for Christmas in the Village and preparing to be out of town last week, I was overwhelmed by the realization of the number of gun violence situations we've had in such a short amount of time. I was torn by the dichotomy of our reality. We plan for celebration and life, while surrounded by violence and death. What are we to do with this tension? How do we press on in this work?
I sat with a neighbor in his grief over losing 10+ men from Marks Village just this year. We talked about how numb we can become, another shooting is just another day. But that it shouldn't be this way, we shouldn't get used to this as normal. We talked about how every person lost to gun violence is worthy of crying out in lament to God.
We celebrated with one of our teen girls who finished her physical therapy from being shot in the leg this summer and in the same week we went to visit another one of our teen girls who's femur was shattered from being shot that weekend. You read that correctly. Two Oak Tree teen girls have caught stray bullets in their legs within six months.
We heard a man be killed in our streets at 10:30 in the morning last month followed by multiple days of excessive shooting. I watched one of our 3rd graders duck behind the brightly colored road barriers as he played outside because a car sped by and he thought there was about to be another drive by shooting.
At the CCDA conference last week one of the speakers, Daniel Lee, taught on God's anger being the source, the end, and the comfort of our anger.
We should be disturbed, unsettled and angry by the way violence and death are at the core of our culture. We should be angry that our children have had to learn survival skills to avoid being shot in their own homes. We are angry because God is angry about this reality. Our anger is righteous because God is the source. But, God's anger is also the end of our anger. We don't deny our struggles or try to take things into our own hands, but we take our cries directly to Him. We trust that evil will not have the final say, that He will bring ultimate justice, and we accept His invitation to be a part of implementing His righteous justice right where we are - without sin, without retaliation, but fighting back with the stronger weapons of forgiveness, love and peace. The end of our anger is not a passive waiting, but one of faith and action. And finally, He is our comfort in the midst of our anger. The suffering of our community does not go unnoticed. Our savior is acquainted with our grief.
Gathering with other believers from around the country who are fighting for change amidst the gun violence that has turned our neighborhoods into war zones was a deep encouragement to us, but we lament that such a coalition has to exist within the work of Christian Community Development.
I find a deep sorrow and comfort remembering that the Christmas story doesn't gloss over the violent reality that Jesus was born into. Mary and Joseph had to flee to a far country they did not know in order to protect their child from being slaughtered. Jesus identifies with our community. He is no stranger to our trauma.
So as we prepare for Christmas in the Village, we invite you to step into the messy complicated reality that we live in. There is beauty and healing and joy here, but there is also pain and trauma and injustice. Both are true. Our God sees both the beauty and the suffering and He has not forgotten us. He is not finished with us yet! This is why we're here and this is why we have the strength to press on. Thank you for your support that allows us to practice the ministry of presence with our neighbors in Marks Village each day.
Since first writing this a few weeks ago, another child was killed just down the road from our community. A middle school girl on her way to school in the morning, shot by a stray bullet in the street. Some of our kids knew her and she is sadly by no means the first person in their lives to be killed by gun violence.
As I was cleaning my house this weekend and arranging my nativity sets I was caught off guard by the image set in front of me. On a candle holder by my front door I place bullets that I pick up when I walk the streets of Marks Village. It’s just one of the rituals I have developed in my time at Oak Tree to attempt to keep myself soft to what unfortunately is very easy to become numb to. If I see a casing on the street I pick it up, put it in my pocket, and each time I feel it there throughout the day I say a prayer for weapons to one day be turned into plowshares (Micah 4:3). When I get home, I place it with the others, a small altar of remembrance where I say a prayer for those who have suffered from the trauma that plagues our streets. It has become a living liturgy of sorts to remind me that our normal is not normal.
John 1:4-5, 9, 14a
“The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world… In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness,and the darkness has not overcome it… The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.”
This picture is what advent means to me. The groaning, suffering, broken world is waiting for the day that Christ will return to complete His work of renewing all things, repairing all that has been broken, reconciling us to Himself and to one another. He sees our tears, He hears our prayers, and His love enables us to keep shining His light and doing His work until He comes again.
As we went caroling on Sunday this photo that I took repeatedly came back to my mind. The paradox of deep joy in the midst of deep sorrow. Oh the unimaginable weight of the emotions Mary must have felt while holding her Son, her Savior. We have carried much grief this year, which is all the more reason to belt Christmas songs at the top of our lungs through the Village! We wage war against the countless obstacles we face each day with our neighbors by fighting on with defiant joy, knowing He has already fought the biggest battle for us.
