On June 19, 2006 a letter was sent to our church membership declaring that our clergy were empowered on behalf of First Congregational to perform civil union services for same-sex couples. On June 26, 2015 the US Supreme Court struck down the statues of any state forbidding same-sex marriage as unconstitutional.
Because the terms of what is at stake here have changed, we need to update our position regarding the consecration of the relationships of same-sex couples. And I propose we do so now as I preach on the subject this Sunday and invite you to join us afterward in the Morehouse Room for an open hearing of all views. Trust me, every point of view will be heard and every person will be valued in that setting, very much as we spoke of racial reconciliation under the sacred canopy.
Why now? It is something how our journey unfolds, isn’t it? I meant to lead us in this discernment a year ago, but then the roof threatened to cave in, and we got busy. Then after we returned to the Meetinghouse I decided it was time, and a lesbian couple united with us, to confirm that timing. God speaks in such ways to signal our engagement with and discernment around the vital issues of our time.
In 2006 we arrived at our discernment on civil unions by group consensus rather than congregational vote. I like that approach again this time round and believe it augurs well as we look to the future. Voting can get political and divisive, making some feel like winners, others like losers. Building and sharing in consensus is where not all of us necessarily agree, but we can agree on finding a way forward.
What might we achieve? The United Church of Christ has an activist-based Open and Affirming process all about affirming the rights of gays and lesbians. The churches opting in eventually get designated as “Open and Affirming Churches.”
As for me, I don’t see folks coming to us wanting us to affirm their rights so much as offer a blessing. Rights are the language of the nation-state. Such talk tends to politicize an already difficult issue. But blessing is the language of the church. So I want us to consider the nature of the blessing we have for same-sex couples.
My hope is that we will become what I call a Full Blessing Congregation. And let me tell you what I mean by that. For nearly 2,000 years, the Christian church had zero official blessing for gay people. These relationships found no sanction in the services of the church. Sometimes gays were actively persecuted by the church.
Then in the Seventies, some pastors performed services of commitment on the sly for gay couples, sometimes in our sanctuaries, but more commonly outside of them. Church authorities couldn’t stop us clergy from acting on our consciences, but kept this from occurring in their buildings, lest these services be construed as approval or complicity. We might call this phase of our history “partial blessing.”
I’m asking for same-sex couples desiring the church’s blessing, and willing to submit to marriage as a time-honored covenant, and to model their love after the self-giving love of Christ, whether anything is to prevent us from offering them not only the sanction of our services, but even the full blessing we offer every couple.
For me, this is a matter of moral and spiritual discernment, not rights activism. So will you come and be with us on Sunday and help us see God’s way forward?
I said something recently that I wish to retract or maybe merely modify. I led off a sermon a few weeks ago saying that there are three answers to our prayers. The first answer is the most popular one: yes. The second answer often baffles us: no. The third answer to our prayers is the most agonizing and confusing: wait.
So much of getting clear in faith is asking right questions. I wish to question the idea of prayer working for us by getting answers we deem acceptable or helpful. Peter W. Marty recently wrote that in discussing prayer and its outcomes, we should eliminate the word “answer.” Suffice it to say, that really got my attention.
What did Marty mean? Well, now to claim there are only three answers to prayer, it sounds utterly saturated with our self-interest. It sounds centered around us rather than centered around God. Those are not the directions I want to lead us.
Yes, Jesus did encourage us to pray for things we need, even specific things. And I still believe that doing so is a sign of spiritual maturity, a sign of closeness to God. But we should remember that in the context that prayer is not mostly about us. Prayer is mostly about God, and sharing in the life God has given to us.
When you ponder prayer, picture relationships with friends across decades. We have special friendships, where time and distance can’t intrude. We know friends with whom we can pick up where we left off in a lifelong ongoing conversation. Such settings evoke deep conversation that inspire curiosity, promote honesty, and reveal transformations of ourselves, which might otherwise remain invisible. Those visits are less about achieving a result and more about sharing company. We know such relationships are beautiful because such company as that is rare.
Prayer is much like that. Perhaps the most important outcome of prayer is not getting what we want or deem necessary at a certain moment within our journey. Perhaps it is to enough know God, and therefore know ourselves. Or better still, perhaps the purpose of prayer is to enjoy God so we can rejoice within our days. Robert Farrar Capon has said, “Prayer is just talking to someone who is already talking to you. (Prayer) is listening to someone who is already listening to you.”
The place where I have learned the most about prayer is sitting with the dying, reading Psalms to them, taking their hands into mine, and settling into our prayer. We always reach a point where we put aside prayers that seek certain results, such as healing. And we begin to pray for things like God’s presence, constancy, companionship, guidance. We pray for God being strong for us in our weakness. Those prayers have been for me some of the most free and liberating I’ve known.
On this Celebration Sunday, we recognize Church School teachers and children, bid farewell to Mary Jo, and look to a new era of ministry to our young. We do not yet know where we will be as we reshape all these ministries to eliminate gaps. Would it be enough to pray for God’s presence, constancy, companionship, and guidance? Would it be enough to let God usher us forward? Yes, yes, and yes.
Memorial Day is a federal holiday in the United States for remembering the people who died while serving in the country’s armed forces. Every year, the week before Memorial Day, I spend my time in prayer asking God to wash his love over the families, friends and soldiers who have been affected by war.
I would like to invite you to join me this week in prayer for our fallen sisters and brothers. Remember, God’s heart is broken right alongside these people. As a result, keeping them and those close to them lifted in prayer will lead the Holy Spirit into their hearts.
Recently, my wife and I watched a movie called: “Hacksaw Ridge”. The true story of Pfc. Desmond T. Doss played by Andrew Garfield, who won the Congressional Medal of Honor despite refusing to bear arms during WWII on religious grounds. Doss was drafted and ostracized by fellow soldiers for his pacifist stance but went on to earn respect and adoration for his bravery, selflessness and compassion after he risked his life — without firing a shot — to save 75 men in the Battle of Okinawa.
This movie impacted me deeply. Truthfully, I cried throughout several scenes. Desmond Doss, reminds me of the parable that will be preached this Sunday in church, The Good Samaritan:
But a Samaritan while traveling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, ‘Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.’ (Luke 10:33-35, NRSV)
There are many ways to interpret this text but at the heart of it is, Divine Intervention. Doss saw an opportunity to serve in a most courageous way. I’ve been fortunate to witness countless examples of Good Samaritans. Because of this, I’m motivated to conclude that human angels do exist in our world. Many of whom I met in our church.
Our hope is that so much occurs on Sundays of such a vital nature that you will feel like you missed out big time by being away from worship on a given Sunday. We hope that not because we aspire to amuse or entertain you, trivializing the church. We hope that not because we have a need to bask in the spotlight, diverting your attention away from where it should be–your relationship with God.
We hope that because your spiritual walk in your spiritual home is not one more piece in the pie of your lifestyle—alongside work, leisure, vacation, family time, community involvement, etc. We hope that because what we are doing with you at church in worship is more like the pan coherently holding that life-pie together.
We hope the equipping FCC gives you to live out your life is foundational to you becoming the best person you could be, the one God means for you to become. If all of that sounds far too ambitious, then I ask you: why would we settle for anything less? In this contemporary world, so much competes for your time, money, and attention. Distractions are the rule and not the exception. We need to show up and do our job right to give God a shot at holding you within his grasp.
Unless I am missing something, church is the only place, or at least the primary place, that puts first nurturing your relationship with the Creator who made you and the Redeemer who will someday pick you up from the dust of non-being.
So without resorting to stunts, we aim to keep things as lively, engaging, fresh and transforming as the Gospel we proclaim. Accordingly, this Sunday, aside from the celebration of Rory James Swenson’s baptism—which our people find riveting–Gary and I will try something new. We will engage in a dialogue sermon.
All preaching is dialogical. That is most obvious in the African-American churches where the back and forth between the preacher and people is the art form itself. You would be surprised by how much both Gary and I draw energy from what we see in your faces, from the receptivity we feel in your posture, as you listen to us.
Many comment on the bond between Gary and myself despite our differences in age, experience, style, temperament, stage of life, presentation, and personality. No few find that surprising. One person said to me, I can’t believe you called him given how different he is from you. Of course, oneness in Christ makes all of that possible. We illustrate Paul’s words, that there is a variety of gifts but one Spirit.
This Sunday that dynamic is on full display as we two dialogue around I Cor. 15.1-18, Paul’s declaration of Easter good news. Be there or be square. Show up then or risk having to find out secondhand what happened. So see you in church!
Confirmation rolls around again this Sunday and I find myself eagerly anticipating it every year. Even if this is only a first confirmation for these 13 young people, and not a final confirmation of anything, with other confirmations of faith to follow at stages along life’s way, it is significant. So much so that I invariably find it chokes me up. Yes, we want to cast what this means in the broader sweep of life. Yes, we want to make it as personal as the gifts of each individual youth.
Right now I’m viewing Confirmation in the broader context of everything we’re attempting with our children and youth at FCC, Darien. Our goal to make this ministry seamless across the 18 or so years we have a shot at forming our youth. It’s exciting that the last stop—high school youth ministry—is alive and strong. We have gone from involving 3 or 4 youth to several dozen in our youth ministry, courtesy of Gary. But we need to build backward from high school into a vibrant and vital middle school youth ministry, and downward from that into a spirited Church School. To do this, let’s notice how our ministry to high schoolers has come alive to grow exponentially.
We were talking about this last Monday night as the Connecticut Conference Minister, the Rev. Kent Siladi, was visiting us, asking about FCC, Darien. Kent preached here last January as I was in Annapolis to do Lise’s wedding. He already gets why this ministry thrives. And that is why Kent is enlisting Gary and Shawn (from the UCC in Greenwich) to show other UCC churches the way.
Have you noticed how much time Gary spends out there, in the world of our youth, at their concerts, at their sporting events, their plays and their award ceremonies? Have you noticed how much effort Gary expends getting to know parents? The arc of ministry today takes us out into the world rather than tapping our foot waiting for folks to show up because we are terrific.
In the old ways of ministry, now past and gone, all roads led to FCC, Darien. All we had to do was open our doors and wait for folks to show up. Not only were we the only church in Darien for a hundred years after our founding, all town business was transacted here, and this is where citizens would pay their taxes. All roads led to F.C.C. because we owned the spiritual franchise.
Today no spiritual franchise exists. The largest growing religious group–a full one out of three under age 30—is “none of the above.” So if we wait for them to come to us, get ready to watch spider webs grow and dust to gather within our beautifully restored and fully prepared church. If some wonder why Gary isn’t here in our church more, spending more time with “our” youth, it no longer works that way anymore. If our territorial instincts got the better of us, and we were to reel Gary in from being out there with his time, you would see our youth ministry ebb.
The simple truth is that the rest of our ministries need to become more out there in the world if we seek to thrive on every front. Of course, this is a shift in paradigms, and change like this will always come slowly. It is the same reason though, why you have heard me go on and on about inviting newcomers to worship. Our new members tend to do this naturally while our veteran members will ask, why? “That is not how I got here.” Well, the world for which we were all so carefully prepared is gone. And we must prepare to minister in another world, glory be to God.
Hearing the story of Christ’s passion, as we did last Sunday, I can hardly believe the likes of Gary and I must retell that story, and that you must hear it again. Why is that? The story is so heartbreaking. As Gary reminded us, God’s was the first heart to break at this turn of events. In hearing it, it breaks our hearts afresh. We go deeper into hurt and suffering, hoping we might arise with Christ into his joy.
What is the alternative? Today a church member sent me the notice of the official Darien Easter Egg hunt this Sunday morning. All right, we have an Easter egg hunt as well, featuring the Easter bunny. But it is a concession to our very young, not a replacement for everything else we do on Easter morning. Maybe it would not bother me if they scheduled it other than Sunday morning when the churches are offering services. The point is, we don’t want to splash in the shallows, but rather swim out into the depths of what God was up to in Jesus’ dying and rising.
I am glad for the reassurance of the Psalmist, that God will not turn away from a broken and contrite heart. (Psalm 51.17) My friend Mary Luti writes the best translation is that God will not spurn a contrite heart. God cannot turn away from such a heart. What is it about a heart that has been shaken, shattered, opened, and made pliable that God cannot resist? We tend to recoil, but God draws near.
That makes me ask: what would it be like if I took on a contrite heart as a way of life, not just for the shame I feel at having done something in particular wrong. Frankly, that’s what Holy Week is all about: letting our hearts become broken with God through Passion Sunday, Maundy Thursday, and Good Friday. Why do something so counterintuitive? Because the promise is God will draw near to us.
I am not talking about wallowing in guilt. I am not talking about perpetual self-loathing, posturing self-abasement, or gloomily beating our breast and wailing. I am talking about gaining a heart aware that we make hurtful mistakes and will do so again. I am talking about assuming that as our baseline as human beings.
Yes, again, it’s counterintuitive. But notice, as our hearts accept and welcome frailty, and take on the vulnerability of others’ hardship and adversity, our hearts become magnets for God. Every soul needs a heart conversant with failure.
The Psalmist prays for a heart truthful about what it lacks, a heart that lives on its knees at hearing of misfortune, a heart surrendered to the grace all around us. That is the heart I want. That is the heart Holy Week would gladly impart to us.See you tomorrow for Maundy Thursday Tenebrae at 7, or Good Friday walking of the cross to St. Luke’s (where I am the first preacher), or Good Friday vigilant, reading through as much of the New Testament as we can cover. God hears us. God knows the broken parts of our hearts, because his was broken so deeply.
See you tomorrow for Maundy Thursday Tenebrae at 7, or Good Friday walking of the cross to St. Luke’s (where I am the first preacher), or Good Friday vigilant, reading through as much of the New Testament as we can cover. God hears us. God knows the broken parts of our hearts, because his was broken so deeply.
My sermon on character last Sunday was vigorous, even bracing. In a day when truthfulness feels like it is in retreat, I offered five different ways to test ourselves, search our souls, and examine our integrity. None were easy. All were strenuous.
Yet you welcomed the challenge. It didn’t surprise me. Why? First, we describe our FCC brand as authentic. We understand church as a place to tell more of the truth of our lives rather than just exchange pleasantries or prop up appearances. We embrace that. Also, it was a down-to-earth, practical message we can apply to daily life. As Americans, a very practical people, we love that kind of message.
So everything’s hunky-dory, right? Why not weekly approach preaching like that? Not so fast. It is one thing to preach a practical, down-to-earth, readily applicable sermon on character, or three keys for dealing with conflict, or common pitfalls in communication. We can break them down into parts and put them back together. They are challenging realities, yes, but not nearly so difficult or promising as the sacred mysteries revealed in the stories of Israel or Jesus bringing us unto God.
I don’t stand before you to spin out my pet themes or favorite insights and bask in adulation as the fixer of your lives. The gospel cuts much deeper than touching us up a little. I am sure you’ve noticed, our problems as humans are much more serious than that. Why, most Sundays, I don’t even pick the text that I preach on. They are assigned to me (called a lectionary) to prevent me from becoming your ultra-groovy avatar of self-fulfillment. Most of the texts are intractably mysterious. Like the one this week on the death of Jesus’ friend Lazarus and his sisters’ grief.
Believe me, we’d quickly lose interest in church if God’s Word weren’t as deeply mysterious and layered as the lives we lead. So often after hearing the stories of God’s rescue project to save humankind, people will say, “I don’t understand.” I get it. I’ve preached the three-year cycle of lectionary texts now 13 times. And I still don’t fully understand either. We don’t so much understand these texts as we stand under them, hear them afresh, glean the hidden meanings and absorb new insights with new experience. We don’t grasp them so much as they grasp us. We don’t take Jesus’ parables apart and put them back together again so much as they take us apart and put us back together, as the people he wants us to be.
To be honest, even more than you not getting it or rejecting my message, I fear domesticating the gospel, reducing it to schemes and rendering it powerless. The gospel isn’t something we’ve chosen. It is the power of God that has chosen us.Finally, faith isn’t very plausible, predictable, expected or conventional. I wouldn’t have it any other way. So will you open your heart with me in worship? Will you open yourself as God’s wild and improbable mysteries have their way with us? It requires us to let go of our powers and competencies, and trust what God gives.
Finally, faith isn’t very plausible, predictable, expected or conventional. I wouldn’t have it any other way. So will you open your heart with me in worship? Will you open yourself as God’s wild and improbable mysteries have their way with us? It requires us to let go of our powers and competencies, and trust what God gives.
Back in high school, Rogers Griffin and I worked together as restaurant bus boys. After years as friends, we planned a vacation in the Colorado Rockies. We met at my suburban home to plan. He didn’t stay long because of the prying, wary looks cast by my neighbors. These were good, hard-working people, but something about Rogers seemed to inspire their suspicion. With trepidation, he suddenly announced it was time to go. Oh, did I mention that Rogers is African-American?
I’ve never been at the place of being the stranger persons react negatively to or judge unfairly because of my race, faith, gender, accent, origin, or sexuality. But I’m sure I have had that same wary suspicion in my own eyes. Some 44 persons died in the 1967 Detroit riots. The suburbs were panicked. But there’s no excuse for treating innocent others as a threat in ways defiant of Jesus’ expectations. By the grace of God, I’m being redeemed of my own hateful inclinations toward fear.
That’s what I hope to preach about in a sermon series beginning this Sunday: Fear of the Other—No Fear in Love. The series is in dialogue with a recent book of the same name by William Willimon. Pick it up if you wish to enter into deeper conversation along these lines. I will preach this series once a month for the next five months. Also, this Sunday we’ll meet Bushra Alshelabi, a Syrian refugee who arrived here in August, 2016. She currently works at Macy’s and is studying at Norwalk Community College to become a dental hygienist. She fled to Egypt with her family and is now here with her family, although she will be alone on Sunday.
We further plan an 11th Hour after worship in Parish Hall with Bushra, IIConn’s CEO (an organization settling refugees in Connecticut) and myself in a panel discussion, inviting your participation. Deacon Gary Holmes, active in IIConn for years, will moderate our discussion. So in a dark, divisive time in America, we will find our way forward by the light of Jesus. I am bold enough to believe that Jesus gives us the means to condemn, repent of, and defeat fear-filled crimes of hate. I also believe if this doesn’t start with us, where else should we expect it to begin?
While I give Gary Holmes full marks for initiating all that begins this Sunday, my own peculiar calling is to help the church think more like Christians in the hope that we will be given the grace to act more like Jesus. That never comes cheaply.
Back in divinity school days as I studied the New Testament in its original Greek, one of the first books they assigned us to translate was I John, where our text for Sunday is found, a text setting the pace for our sermon series. I John 4:18 reads, “perfect love casts out all fear.” The Greek in I John is among the easiest to read in all of the New Testament. But it is also among the very hardest for us to live.
We seek friendship with Christ and he invited us to approach him on those terms. But as fear displaces loving faith, we disappoint and betray Jesus. Politicians can leverage our fears. Still, we know we’ll be judged according to a higher standard.
Maybe I am overly sensitive about it because my last name is Rosenberger, and people would inquire about my Jewishness with intent that made me suspicious. Exactly why do you need to know? Exactly why is establishing this important? It sensitized me to something I might have never realized: that haters will single out Jews in ways that you and I can only begin to imagine.
Never mind that we are German Mennonite by name. It doesn’t matter. I watched people bore into my mother with the same question. I was proud of her that she always refused to answer. More than once I saw her turn up her nose at the questioner, respond “God’s chosen people!” and walk away in a huff. Why was I proud of her? Because to answer such questions invariably made us feel like the disavowal of, “Oh no, we are not one of them!” Better to not answer at all.
Courtesy of our First Congregational Adult Education leaders, this Sunday at 5 pm we will watch a film about Dietrich Bonhoeffer at church. Bonhoeffer was a leader in the German Confessing movement, one of the few Christian bodies in Europe who opposed Hitler and stood with Jews during the darkest years of the 20th century. Martin Niemoller was a pastor in this movement.
Niemoller said, “First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Socialist. Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Trade Unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.” Niemoller spent the last seven years of Nazi rule in a concentration camp, and regretted not speaking out much sooner.
Hundreds of Jewish Community Centers have suffered bomb threats since the start of the year. According to the Southern Poverty Law Center, led by Morris Dees (the college roommate of Habitat for Humanity’s Millard Fuller), over 892 hate groups are active and alive within the USA. Those numbers more than tripled during the two terms that we had our first black President. They’ve spiked and energized again since the beginning of 2017, as indicated by bomb threats.
We must take this very seriously. For as Christians, we have a special relationship with Jews. Christianity is impossible and makes no sense without having been built upon the foundation of Judaism. Nearly every time Jesus says something we think to be brilliant, he is merely quoting the Torah, the Psalms, or the wisdom literature of the Hebrew Bible. Karl Barth, another pastor in the Confessing movement, once said that to become a Christian we must all in some sense first become a Jew. Barth said that Jesus’ life and ministry, his death and resurrection were only a reconfiguring within one man of everything that had come to pass in Judaism for generations. Judaism and Christianity agree on most everything, except upon the Messiahship of Jesus. And having said all of this, let us be completely clear, that Jesus was not a Christian. Jesus was a Jew.
Maybe I am overly sensitive about this because in college I lived with four Jews as the only Christian. Not only were our religious conversations spirited, candid and searching, these four supported me as I went to divinity school, when my Christian family and friends did not. Bob, Howard, Eliot, and Ed are part of who I am. I could no sooner turn my back on them or their children, than I can cut off my nose to spite my face. See you Sunday morning and afternoon!
One of the most common questions I get asked when in public goes something like this: “Gary, what on earth are you so enthusiastic about!” Every time I get this question my heart starts to pump with joy and a smile instantly finds its way to my face. My response, always: “I’m enthusiastic about life because I’ve found faith, hope, and love in Jesus Christ. Holding close to my heart, Jesus’ most important commandment, to love God passionately and to serve my fellow neighbor as if he or she was family.
Friends, I see the face of Jesus Christ every single day of my life. Loving our neighbors and our enemies is apart of who we are as Christians. Joe Pankowski, recently posted a story on Facebook that I couldn’t wait to share on a flash. This story comes from a young man named Dylan, a U.S. veteran of the Iraq war. I hope when reading this story you too can see the face of Jesus Christ in the most beautiful way possible.
“Years ago, on my first deployment to Iraq, I befriended a local boy, Brahim, who would quickly become one of our interpreters. He was able to do so because the turnover rate for local nationals who worked with us was enormous. And not because they quit, because they were killed. Besides the money, we were able to get them to volunteer with us by promising them refugee status in the U.S. if they completed a tour. (But really, I think the chain of command knew that most interpreters wouldn’t make it through their contracts alive).
Anyway, Brahim would tell me about all the family members he lost in the conflict–brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles, all of them. He told me how he lived in a one-bedroom house with 7 people. No clean water, power every other week because of the rolling blackouts, etc. He told me how they did have the basic necessities most days and that him volunteering with us was one of their sole sources of income. One day, I went down to the store and bought him $20, maybe $30 worth of toiletries. No big deal really. I just didn’t want the dude to smell bad. When I presented it to him, he cried. Literally bawled his eyes out and said he’d give his life for me. OVER SOAP. Completely sobering. He spent the next year acting as our liaison, providing us with valuable intelligence, and essentially saving our lives on a daily basis – at the age of 16! At the end of my tour in Iraq, I knew I was leaving him to die. I knew I’d never see him again. I was just kind of like ‘take care kid.’
Fast-forward 5-years. And I’m flying home to Phoenix to bury my little brother who was brutally murdered. (Gun violence is another subject). I remember the day like it was yesterday. I cried my eyes out all the way from Hawaii to Arizona. Absolutely brutal. Spend 6 years fighting wars and you don’t expect to get a phone call that your kid brother was randomly murdered in a carjacking. Anyway, I land in Arizona and it’s pouring. Hop off and walk down to the taxi stand. I get in the first taxi that pulls up and we’re off. Driver starts to make the standard small talk. Where you from, what do you do, etc. I tell him I just got out of the military and blah blah. He says ‘Oh, great. I love the military. You ever travel anywhere?’ I tell him, ‘Sure. Been to every corner of the globe. Africa, Afghanistan, Iraq, etc.’ He says ‘Oh! I’m from Iraq! What part?’ I say ‘Kirkuk, mostly.’ And he says, ‘I’m from Kirkuk.’ And then it gets really quiet. Like awkwardly quiet. Making me nervous quiet. My first thought is I killed one of his family members and he recognizes me.
And now I’m literally getting ready to bail out of the cab. I see him staring at me in the rear view. I can see the anguish in his eyes. And then he starts to PULL THE CAB TO THE SIDE OF THE ROAD. He stops, turns around and says, ‘Dylan, you remember me? It’s me, Brahim.’ And I’m like Oh my God. And just start sobbing.
We got out of that taxi off the I-10 and Rural and hugged it out on a bridge in the rain. I didn’t even care, man. So I’m like BROTHER WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN ARIZONA?! HOW? MAN WHAT? And he’s like I did my 4 years and they gave me a visa. They gave him some cash and a 1-way ticket to the States. Asked him where he wanted to go, and he said where the weather is like Iraq. So they sent him to Arizona. 5 years after I left him in Iraq and a few days after my younger brother was violently murdered, the universe linked us up again.
Brahim literally saved my life, twice.”
America and Iraq. The LOVE of God is everywhere. We just have to open our hearts to see it…