The Transjordan Tribes (Numbers 32)

Hard thoughts today.

I've been reading Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy recently (riveting, I know...) and tracking the "stiff-necked" Israelites through miles of deserts and not a few catastrophes, brought on, almost entirely, by their complaints about food or by their unbelief. I guess that could be boiled down to two all-too-human sentiments: "God, you're not good enough" and "God, you're not big enough". Tell me those don't sound familiar to you.

Their big, good God finally does bring them to the Promised Land after alotting enough time for a generation to completely die out. You'd think they'd echo Moses' passion to just peak into the Promised Land (which he wasn't allowed to set foot in because of his own disbelief...seems like no one is exempt...):

Moses: "Let me go over and see the good land beyond the Jordan - that fine hill country and Lebanon."
God: "Go up to the top of Pisgah...Look at the land with your own eyes, since you are not going to cross this Jordan."

But the tribe of Reuben, the tribe of Gad and half of the tribe of Manasseh thought that the land east of Jordan looked OK to them. Logically, it also made sense:

Reuben, Gad & Manasseh: "The land(s)...are suitable for livestock, and your servants have livestock."

Lots of space, lots of livestock. Handy, but was it God's promise to them? Weren't they giving up their God-given inheritance, the Land Flowing with Milk and Honey, the land promised to their forefathers, for fields just short of Canaan's border? I wonder why? Were they tired of traveling? I could relate to that. Did they think it efficient and prudential to take land outside of Canaan, and therefore "giving" more land to the nine and a half other tribes on the other side? Did the Jordan look too deep to cross? Were they holding on to the fears of their fathers that the Canaanites were "giants" with "walled cities"?

At first Moses reprimanded them strongly:

Moses: "If you turn away from following [the LORD], he will again leave all this people in the desert, and you will be the cause of their destruction."

But finally relents, after he makes them promise to help the other tribes win the Promised Land. Would they have ignored this responsibility if Moses didn't remind them? Is it easier to leave the fighting to others once you have found somewhere suitable, comfortable, logical and comfortable to settle?

I get frustrated with the strong desire to settle in "lands suitable for livestock". Career choices that make sense, marrying for comfort, 5-, 10-, and 20-year goals... Sometimes the promises God has given me (and the instruction to "possess" them which, I suppose, would be disobedience to go against) seem vague, flighty, too amazing to be true ("God, you're not good enough"), and too difficult to attain ("God, you're not big enough"). But if I settle on this side of my Promised Land, without pushing through, I'll never get to see what God had in store for me.

I also discovered that Israel no longer holds the land east of the Jordan River.

Tell them Scotland is free

After an incredible, three-hour train journey from York to Glasgow (if you have the time and inclination, I recommend that you always travel by train in the UK...especially if you're from North America...there's nothing like looking out of a train window to see, oh, a CASTLE on a random hill) I have arrived. YWAM Seamill. For a period of time, I had Seamill's Arran Lounge as my desktop picture when I worked at the Television Bureau of Canada. Now, I drink tea in the Arran Lounge.

I can feel a shift when I travel past England's borders. Now I want to be careful in addressing this phenomenon becaue I love England and have many English friends but, spiritually and emotionally-speaking, I feel more free in Ireland and Scotland. I always have. Maybe it's due to my distant Scottish/Irish heritage. Maybe, as a Canadian, I feel an affinity with people groups who live in the shadow and dominance of bigger, stronger, more well-known countries.

In any case, Scotland is just as gorgeous as I left it, almost six years ago. Seamill makes a good example of rugged, Scottish beauty: within view of a glen, a river, the ocean, the Island of Arran, and a small mountain range. My family is coming to visit in a few days, and I'm really not sure who will be more excited, my 13-year-old brother or my dad.

Starting somewhere

Dear Friend,

Today, I became part of an unprecedented global call to action to end poverty: Make Poverty History

Right now, there is active campaigning in over 50 countries around the three core demands: More and Better Aid, Make Trade Fair, and Cancel the Debt. In Canada, we're also campaigning to End Child Poverty in Canada.

You've just got to be a part of this campaign.

Go to http://www.makepovertyhistory.ca and sign on to the campaign yourself.

There is no time to lose. It doesn't matter who or where you are, your voice is critical to the success of this campaign. This is a rare chance to join me and thousands of others across the planet to once and for all make poverty history.

What are you waiting for? Join me and click in!

Sarah Aubrey Hunter

What you can do right now:

• Sign on to the campaign
• Tell federal MPs other politicians to commit to a timeline for 0.7%
• Click others into action - forward this message to your networks

"If everyone who wants to see an end to poverty, hunger and suffering speaks out, then the noise will be deafening. Politicians will have to listen."
- Archbishop Desmond Tutu

Injustice

I just finished watching The Constant Gardener.

Before you read any further, go out, rent it, watch it. Then we can continue.

I've watched my share of save-the-world movies recently including Spy Game at Shay's, LOTR trilogy at King's Lodge, and Good Night, and Good Luck at the FACT theatre in Liverpool last night. Fighting against multi-million dollar pharmaceutical companies, fighting against compromised FBI agencies, fighting against McCarthy's anti-communist regime, fighting against Mordor...

My brother (who, honestly, will probably never know of the publicity he gets on this blog...because he doesn't have the link...because he hates blogs) and I just had this conversation the other evening:
[his MSN tag line was "real pissed at injustice"]
Me: what injustice?
He: I dunno - I feel like being a superhero
Me: cool. me too.
He: damn life is too unjust
Me: i know. i agree.
think of anything to fight?
yet?
He: injustice
generally
Me: that's kind of broad, no?
He: nah
whever I see it - I'll just start dueling out the punches
Me: good call.
how's school?
He: injust

Don't we all feel the push? As complacent and as comfortable as North American life has become, don't we still feel injustice lurking in the shadows?

Sometimes I don't even feel like getting out of bed, let alone fighting injustice. But I can do something, can't I? When Jesus tells me to, when he shows me injustice, I can chose to "duel out the punches", can't I?

Hands
By: Jewel

If I could tell the world just one thing
It would be that we're all OK
And not to worry 'cause worry is wasteful
And useless in times like these
I won't be made useless
I won't be idle with despair
I will gather myself around my faith
For light does the darkness most fear
My hands are small, I know
But they're not yours, they are my own
But they're not yours, they are my own
And I am never broken
Poverty stole your golden shoes
It didn't steal your laughter
And heartache came to visit me
But I knew it wasn't ever after
We'll fight, not out of spite
For someone must stand up for what's right
'Cause where there's a man who has no voice
There ours shall go singing
My hands are small I know
But they're not yours, they are my own
But they're not yours, they are my own
I am never broken
In the end only kindness matters
In the end only kindness matters
I will get down on my knees, and I will pray
I will get down on my knees, and I will pray
I will get down on my knees, and I will pray
My hands are small I know
But they're not yours, they are my own
But they're not yours, they are my own
And I am never broken
My hands are small I know
But they're not yours, they are my own
But they're not yours, they are my own
And I am never broken
We are never broken
We are God's eyes
God's hands
God's mind
We are God's eyes
God's hands
God's heart
We are God's eyes
God's hands
God's eyes
We are God's hands
We are God's hands

"This is the kind of fast day I'm after:
to break the chains of injustice,
get rid of exploitation in the workplace,
free the oppressed,
cancel debts.
What I'm interested in seeing you do is:
sharing your food with the hungry,
inviting the homeless poor into your homes,
putting clothes on the shivering ill-clad,
being available to your own families."

(Isaiah 58, the Message)


JUSTIN:
There are millions of people.
They all need help.
That's what the agencies are here for.

TESSA:
Yeah, but these are three people that we can help.

O brave new world!

It has recently been brought to my attention that the following write up of my blog is posted on an anonymous person's blog review page:

Sarah Aubrey Hunter's blog. Rarely updated because she's too busy.

Atrocious, name-sullying fiend!

I recently indulged in a two hour argument with my brother, over MSN, about blogging. He hates it. I heart it. His stance is that people should not be given the means with which to pollute the internet with the innane details of their trivial life, or indulge their illusions of grandeur that *someone* will one day discover their bleeding bit of poetry and they will become famous, etcetera. I had to agree with a lot of what he said but, as a blogger, I could not, you see, agree with all of it.

He also hates the term "blogger".

I once read a hilarious (but *so* not what your mother would want to you to read, I can't bring myself to link to it...give me an email and I'll pass the info along) critique of the words blogging, blogger, blogged, blogosphere, blogomania, blogroll, blogshare, blogstorm, blog swarm, blogging community, blawg, blogumentary, blogebrity, photoblog, warblog, warblogger, warblogging, webmistress, trackback, travelblog, friendblog, watchblog, videoblog, and the like, entitled, "If these words were people, I would embrace their genocide". It begins:

Blogger: Term used to describe anyone with enough time or narcissism to document every tedious bit of minutia filling their uneventful lives. Possibly the most annoying thing about bloggers is the sense of self-importance they get after even the most modest of publicity. Sometimes it takes as little as a referral on a more popular blogger's website to set the lesser blogger's ego into orbit.

And gets progressively more colourful (and I'm not talking prism) from there.

It all makes me think of something my mother once said, which was apocolypic, in her usual way: "I wonder why this generation is fixated with the trend of writing down their own personal histories? I wonder what it means, prophetically?"

Are we all egomaniacs? Perhaps. Are we filling the void that was once filled by community and in-depth, in-depth conversations with our family members and friends, over long meals, long journeys, and long evenings by candlelight? Most likely.

Lunch with Lewis

That's right. I woke up early this morning, caught a ride into Nuneaton, asked for the cheapest return ticket to Oxford, and managed to locate 49 St. Giles Street - The Eagle & Child pub (or "The Bird & Baby" to legendary authors, Clive Staples Lewis and John Ronald Reuel Tolkien). The two were members of an unofficial club called the "Inklings", which met on Tuesdays at the pub. I will draw your attention to the fact that I visited it on a Tuesday.

I was nearly peeing myself with excitement on the train, which traveled through Coventry (home to famous actor, Clive Owen, and my good friend Jessica Morris), en route to Oxford. I reached The Bird & Baby just in time for lunch. And so, in the pub that birthed writing far better than I could ever dream of accomplishing, I read the rest of Red Moon Rising by Pete Greig, sipped on my pint and wrote down some inspired thoughts in my journal. Interestingly enough, as had been wondering if I could "pick up" on any leftover genius in the air from Lewis and Tolkien, God used the opportunity to speak, quite clearly, to me regarding what I should be doing with YWAM in Toronto when I return. It has been a memorable day.

This was the best Valentine's Day I have ever experienced, in fact.*

* Sorry, Kate - any year in Montreal would be a close second. (I'm pretty sure that your Valentine's this year beat Montreal as well...and I won't hold it against you.)