Love Through Fire: Nigeria

Red dirt, and smiles bright against dark skin, people in t-shirts and flip-flops from ten-years past, driving cars twenty-years past, the red-dirt streets flooded with people, people with no job, nothing to do, just looking here and there and idly standing, not even a cigarette or book to pass time—and then going to the poor areas where enormous vats of water and yeast brew together, fermenting, all for alcohol, the substance—when ready—poured into gourd shells, and then into mouths and then in veins and taking over the mind, thousands and hundreds of thousands of flies swarming around the vats and on the men's faces—all of it so alarming your heart has retreated into itself and you can't feel anything at all.

I was 18 years old when I went to Nigeria, just becoming a young man, like a peach when it is moments from being ripe. Days after graduation, I boarded a plane to this African country, this Nigeria, with only Joseph Conrad's "Heart of Darkness" to guide me. Nigeria, a foreign world, a world you could look at and see only sadness, because people are hungry, and don't have jobs. But then you look again and there are more smiles than here in America, more laughs—especially among the followers of Christ in Nigeria. In the fifth verso of John Newton's "Amazing Grace", I find what these people have—

"And when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess within the veil,
A life of joy and peace."

I have nothing that they lack. In truth, they have something I am without—a joy and peace that is founded on confidence and hope. They wear this joy and peace on their smile. In their laugh.

I saw awful things, to be sure, like the things I first described, all of which are true and real and happening right now. I saw pain and sickness that had only before existed in pictures; I saw children's stomachs bloated with hunger and blind women with stubs for fingers and toes, people living in shacks smaller than our closets eating what we wouldn't feed our dogs. All of it, the pain, searing my heart. Turned me against America, against myself even—why aren't Americans, at least people in North Dallas, doing anything about this pain? Why am I not doing anything? It isn't fair and I am participating in this injustice. The truth is, there are people helping, many people. As much as you might not like him, George W. Bush gave millions of dollars to help fight AIDS in Africa, and I saw the fruit of that grace with my own two eyes. One example of many.

Nigeria spurred my heart to action, to a stronger love that lives practically and sees real opportunities to love people in real ways. Nigeria wiped away the notion that money buys Joy. Money may buy happiness, but it does not buy Joy. The Christians in Nigeria showed me what real Joy looks like, how real Peace acts, and the amazing things that Grace through Jesus Christ can accomplish.

With love,
h

Realizing Jesus: Humble Wisdom

Every morning, or nearly every morning, I wake up and think to myself—I can do this, I can take on this day, by myself, you know? I don't need your help, or anyone's help at all. I can handle it. But, if I am honest, I couldn't be more wrong. I am arrogant to think that I can even do anything on my own, prideful to believe I am where I am because of me, wrong in trusting myself too much.

There are only a few things that I know are universally true for myself: I get lonely; I want to be known and loved anyways; I am weak, unable to go through life alone; the world is fucked up; and I need to be forgiven, made new or something, because there is this unending guilt in my heart that I can't shake—can't shake on my own.

I wouldn't say that I'm a particularly brave person, courageous or anything like that, but I am the sort of person that sees a problem and wants it fixed. Naturally, I've tried many, many things to solve the problems I just listed above (also, notice that the things I listed were all negative, basically. It's a wondrous thing how we often remember the things we want to forget, dwell on the negative while there is so much beauty in the world)—I've gone to women when I feel lonely; I've worked hard and diligently to get people's praise and attention, their approval; I've read books and gone to counseling and immersed myself in music and lived on the road and looked to my family and been stone-cold drunk. But none of it has satisfied me for longer than a brief and passing moment. I try and or have tried all of these, and—at some point or another—have always ended up feeling like shit.

But, by the grace of God, I have come to a knowledge and faith in Jesus. Life is fleeting, temporary, but Jesus is eternal (John 8:58). I feel lonely, but I am not (Matthew 28:20). I am tired, burdened by this guilt and fear and pain, but Jesus carries me (Matthew 11:28). I want to be known and loved anyways, and YHWH does just that (Hosea 2:19). I must be forgiven, and I am (1st John 1:9).

I cite scripture because it is the eternal and unwavering truth, revealing God's perfect character, and without it we would have no reference point for what is right and wrong, true and untrue, beautiful and evil. I believe that. I believe that God is love. Though I have to make the decision over and over, I trust and love and have faith in Jesus, because He has changed me and saved me, cured me from the deepest disease in my soul. Jesus loves me, and has demonstrated His love. Jesus takes me up to Heaven, because there is no tower that is high enough, and my life is far from pure enough to be in God's presence without Christ's intervention. This decision—to follow Jesus—is the decision by which all else in my life hinges upon.

With love,
h

Introducing Hunter Sharpless

In a conservative city, with safety all around me, I grew up in a world absent of conflict like divorce, a close death or sickness of a friend; I did well in school without trying too hard, performed well in athletics, didn't drink or smoke pot or shoot heroine, went to church on my own accord—Dallas, Texas, a private school and a good family.

When you grow up like this, and you are wired introspectively like I am, high school becomes a time of self-examination, self-searching, and self-critique. WIthout any terribly external conflict, I turned inward and found conflict in my own heart. I wouldn't say I grew up quickly, or matured quickly, but I would say, without a doubt, that I came to know myself quickly, more quickly than others.

But I don't want to spend my time here, so I will say only a little about high school—it was a time of great growth in my faith and many poor, sinful decisions. It was a time spent focusing on that sin, dwelling on it, not forgiving myself of it, which led to depression—an awful thing for a person to go through who has as many deep emotions as I do.

Since graduation, though, in May 2008, several decisions and several experiences has drastically changed me into who I am now—into the man I am now, an entirely different being than the boy named Hunter in high school. Those decisions and experiences are listed below, and will be discussed in the shortly forthcoming posts—

—Realizing Jesus: Humble Wisdom
—Love Through Fire: Nigeria
—Alone in the Heartland: Iowa City
—Follow: Forgiving Myself
—Arrogance Crumbling: Pine Cove
—On the Road: The Best Band in the World
—Failure, Success: I Am Not Alone

With love,
h