This thing we do

I took a picture of my colleague, Talia Bunting, because she's funny on her feet, full of smarticles, and is wearing a great hoodie that says, "DO JUSTICE."

DO JUSTICE.

Justice?

Sometimes I can't even "do" my hair decently.

DO JUSTICE.

I'm a big fan of justice.  I named my son Justice.

I'm a big fan of DO-ing.  I get things done…or so the story went.  

But here I am in North Georgia working for Adventures in Missions and floundering about what to do.

Last week, I learned that my part of DO-ing looked a lot like loving family that I'd just met, watching bags & belongings while they worked; helping cut tissue paper for a kids' craft, and pray my heart out.  From the outside, that's not a whole lot of DO-ing.  Not a whole lot of Justice cultivated.

And I'm fighting the idea that what I was doing was making space so that other people could paint, scrape, build, play, and do life in a rough area of Santo Domingo.  They were DOing Justice.  They couldn't have done it (I'm told), if they had to fumble and worry about the little things that I was able to keep on eye on and herd about. 

Little things.

No shock and awe.

And yet I am in awe of what happened with the team and the church and the neighborhood.

In us.

There was play and singing.

A bathroom and dignity were built.

A drug den was cleaned up and new life for a community progressed.

Hospitality given among bucket baths and concrete beds that puts the very best of New York salons to shame.

Kids hoisted on broad shoulders, fingernails painted, hair plaited, stick ball taught & learned; and somewhere between Dominican time and American scheduling life happened.  Out on the front stoop of the church and beneath the tree and among the wrinkled merry dancing hearts of the community elders – Life showed up. 

Life. Dignity. Love.

Justice.

Life saturated everything – in every prayer, every moment, every tissue paper tile, every bounced ball, every way yucca was cooked, mashed, and served (YUM!).

A path for Dignity was made as the filth of despair's souvenirs were cleared by the church, paint was splashed on a tender teacher's home, and a loo was built.

We were Loved lavishly.

Justice was done.

A way was made for more Justice, Love, Dignity, and Life to take root.

Please pray for Pastors Jacqueline & Daniel; Juan & Alba; and their church.  Please pray for provision and a solid place for the church's roots to grow. 

My colleague, Justin Cron, made a new friend recently – a young fellow saxophonist – who is hoping for a chance at freedom; freedom from chronic and debilitating pain.  This could be one of those chances for us to DO Justice. To do that thing of "healing the brokenhearted and setting the captives free."

Learn more here: http://www.indiegogo.com/juliancuello