I recently wrote this in an email to a friend, and the phrase 'Prophet of Beauty' has been ringing in my ears since; so I thought I would post it.
I so need to cry on someone's shoulder almost every day... so glad Jesus doesn't mind getting wet. There is a neighborhood is this city that is so poor, that the parents have no one to watch their kids when they work; 200 children have gone missing into trafficking since 2004. Another woman has been pregnant 8 times, no money for diagnostic ultrasound of gender in early pregnancy, but still 4 aborted girls. Another woman picks through the garbage, mentally disabled but married for sexual use; many children, one daughter has gone missing. We picked up a 65 year old man on the corner who had fallen over and gashed his head open. Starving and dehydrated, with no eyes, he was trying to make a living begging to send home money to his wife. And on and on.
I so need to cry on someone's shoulder almost every day... so glad Jesus doesn't mind getting wet. There is a neighborhood is this city that is so poor, that the parents have no one to watch their kids when they work; 200 children have gone missing into trafficking since 2004. Another woman has been pregnant 8 times, no money for diagnostic ultrasound of gender in early pregnancy, but still 4 aborted girls. Another woman picks through the garbage, mentally disabled but married for sexual use; many children, one daughter has gone missing. We picked up a 65 year old man on the corner who had fallen over and gashed his head open. Starving and dehydrated, with no eyes, he was trying to make a living begging to send home money to his wife. And on and on.
But Jesus is a Prophet of Beauty, and He hangs out in the dumps and brothels and ghettos. He speaks life over every one of these people through us and brings them into His own home and baths them; loves them. But when we are silent, He stands in the corner of the vacant lot and just cries and cries.
He is beautiful, so beautiful and He always wins.
Your story has resonated deep within me this week too, Kelley. If the very Lord of the Universe does not turn HIS eyes away in disgust, or fear, or because of lack, who am I to turn my eyes & my heart away? When I'm confronted with the lack and filth and drunkeness even here in Victoria, all I want to do is flee. But Lord, You call forth a beautiful life- you give beauty for ashes. I say I will choose life- but I see how my margins need to be extended. Rend my heart O God.
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