I write a lot about ministry in the inner city. I don't do it to impress anyone. I just do it because it's my life right now and because I hope I will offer something that might cause someone else to pause and reflect for a moment about the mission of God in the world, about the Christ among the least of these, and about the kingdom coming down. If nothing else, perhaps I provide a voice that someone else in similar circumstances can relate to.
Last night I read a wonderful chapter from Henri Nouwen's book Here and Now: Living in the Spirit. Here is a short excerpt:
"The more I think about the human suffering in our world and my desire to offer a healing response, the more I realize how crucial it is not to allow myself to become paralyzed by feelings of impotence and guilt. More important than ever is to be very faithful to my vocation to do well the few things I am called to do and hold on to the joy and peace that they bring me. I must resist the temptation to let the forces of darkness pull me into despair and make me one more of their many victims. I have to keep my eyes fixed on Jesus and on those who followed him and trust that I will know how to live out my mission to be a sign of hope in this world" (46-47).
I can relate perfectly with what Nouwen has written here. Sometimes the level of need around me is so great that I literally begin to feel a weight around my shoulders -- an intangible oppressiveness and heaviness that I cannot shake off. The lack of beauty, the desperation and despair, the violence -- it all has a cumulative effect of making me lose sight of hope at times. What can I do in the face of such overwhelming problems? Am I really so naive as to think I can make a difference here? And if I'm not making a difference, then why not just get out and live a more comfortable life? When these questions enter my mind (and they do almost daily), I must sit and just breathe and realize that I cannot allow myself to become "paralyzed by feelings of impotence and guilt."
This is why I am more convinced than ever that an activist (by which I mean a Christian who lives out his or her spirituality by trying to make an impact on the political, social, economic, and spiritual struggles of mankind) must first and foremost be a mystic (by which I mean someone who regularly practices contemplation, meditation, silence, solitude, prayer, study, and an inner craving for the heart for God). Often the two seem divided: the former are the do-gooder community organizers or social workers and the ladder are those monks hidden away in their cloisters. Yet I am convinced that to remain an activist (and I consider myself to at least be an aspiring one), I must first be a mystic. Otherwise, I run out of gas and have nothing to offer. To rest in the infinite love of God -- that is the source for all outward action and all social justice. The second that I forget that, I become no more than an ant struggling to free himself from a gallon of syrup.
Make me a mystic, O God. And from that inner life with You, help me to flow outwardly as one of Your agents in the world. Amen.
