I don’t have a Valentine but like this song as a reminder of .. hope. Real love isn’t a feeling or a fairy tale.
“When you find real love, you don’t have to hide anymore. All your scars turn into beauty marks when it’s the one you’ve been waiting for. When you find real love, you know it isn’t blind at all. It sees more than anyone else and still finds you beautiful.” – Mike Seminari
I have a longer post or two in my head about Valentines day. (I mean holidays are an excuse to blog right?) but I have been in the Netherlands since Monday night on a last minute work trip for a conference with other European leaders (I am so European right? lol) booked my ticket back a day early so I could spend MY Valentines day hearing the story of a gal named Teresa who used to be a porn star and then Jesus interrupted her life and everything changed. Only to get up at the crack of dawn train it across the country to Amsterdam and have a delayed flight back to Newcastle (“snow” was the excuse… there was a dusting) by far too long to miss most of the whole thing. Whoops. I heard great stories from the students and staff though and got to meet Teresa briefly. Such a cool woman who is so honest and real. Stories of God’s grace just tickle me. So .. writings to come your way tomorrow. I think I owe you a post or two from last weeks to-be-continued…
Oh and if you want to HEAR the song I quoted above… I have it on my mac but I discovered my talented songwriter friend Mike has it posted on this website.. love google. Scroll down to hear his version of the title, 4th one down..
Real Love by Mike Seminari
This morning we had a conversation/learning session in our staff meeting about what the good news of Jesus says to the subjects of condemnation, lust and shame. I will be writing a little bit more about those subjects in the near future but for now I wanted to leave you with something that my team leader said that was so good I wrote it down.
Love is a valuing of others that leads us to serve them sacrificially. Lust is a serving of self that leads us to sacrifice others…
That leads us to shame and denial and slavery..
I have often wondered why this is not talked about more as the trend the last couple years has been to talk about ending the slave trade. Join this group! Join that group! Stop the trafficking! I hear the cries.
The little girl in me that walks into the petrol station to pay for my diesel and winces each time I pass the magazine racks. Naked women in all of their brazen glory with proportions too awkward to tell me it is natural, reminds me that we are just two dimensional pictures to be looked at. We are cheap. A few quid for a magazine.
Stop the Traffik! Real Men Don’t Buy Girls!
They say… but then I walk past a sign for Diamonds or For Your Eyes Only in my city and I know that’s not true… men buy girls all the time..
Not For Sale they say! Care about justice! Change the world! Get involved.
But we are for sale. How can joining a group change the reality. Women everywhere are for sale. There is still a demand and we are sold at a cheap price.. our worth up for grabs to the lowest bidder.
We walk down the street and men call out names.
Degrading horrible names.
Men stand at the bar and rate us with their wingman in tow.
Every cat call’s shout we die a little death inside.
S.T.O.P it! Can’t you see I am a person?
Not in this world with this poison you’re not.
Love(146) me! Our hearts cry! We want your protection and care and concern. But the poison is deep and real love can’t grow there because of it. Maybe even the one you love has made you into his game. Love isn’t real, it is a commodity to be used and disposed of with no grasp of what it is.
So they eat their poison and the roots grow deeper and we are all stuck. Nameless faceless girls. Nameless faceless women.
But I have a name.. She has a name.. can’t you see?
It is Sunday night at 11:24. I am waiting for the popcorn to finish (on the stove.. it takes a bit longer but is definitely the way to go!) before I drive to my friend’s house, maybe the most knowledgeable Englishman I know at the great sport that is American Football.
It is also nearly 11:30pm and the game has started and I don’t even know which teams are in the Superbowl tonight.
My cousins will be hating me. Brittney down in Somerset, my wonderful American friend who has kept more of her traditions than I have will gasp.. but it’s true.
I am a terrible expat!
I have not seen a Superbowl in more years than I can remember. (Is it 3 or 4 now?) I don’t remember the last one I stayed up and finished. Maybe my first year in Newcastle 6 years ago?
But I understand the game for the most part. I am ignoring all the British banter at how it is not a sport, or not “football” because you don’t use your feet. And when I am missing something, there is always Mark my honourary American (English) friend who we should just give him a passport for all of his study and effort. Kinda like those people who get honourary university degrees.