Most of the time life here is really wonderful, peaceful, and “normal.” Occasionally it isn’t. This post is not intended to dramatize or exaggerate those exceptions, but to try to provide an honest peek into one part of the reality of daily living.
I love weddings here. A huge community gathering filled with traditional dancing, it doesn’t matter if they happen in the streets, a community center, or a hotel: I want to be there. My local friends always laugh with admiration as I begin to join in with the steps, one after the other. I love dancing and have made a point of getting to know how to do them all, and what I lack in grace I compensate for in enthusiasm.
So when a teacher invited some fellow students and me to her best friend’s wedding I immediately said yes. In my black dress and red lipstick I met my friends at the metro station. We got on the metro; a few stops later a group of young men got on together.
I’ve always been someone who tries to stay tuned in with my surroundings. Because we have experienced a certain number of security incidents here that has only increased recently. As I scoped out the new passengers on the train I began to feel nervous. Were any of their jackets a little too bulky? Were they doing anything suspicious?
Suddenly the feeling expanded. The last big attack that had happened in the country was at a wedding. A young person wandered into the crowd with a bomb strapped to their body. We were on our way to a wedding. Was this the right choice? Should I turn around and go home?
Over the last couple of years I have seen my local friends struggle to come to terms with these events. For them it is not only insecurity in the place they live that bothers them, but that their beloved home country, the place of their birth and life, is slowly being picked apart in event after tragic event. Occasionally when these things happen people send me messages asking if I’m going to leave. What of these people around me, these beautiful people that I would happily die for? Where will they go?
I know that living in this place through this season has affected me. I have a feeling I will only really notice how much once I leave. When I stop constantly letting people know my whereabouts or worrying about how late I’m out. I am well aware that I am not impervious to bad things. But if I claim to love these people, if I claim to be trying to share the greatest story of love and sacrifice with them, how can I run away at the first signs of a threat? I claim to be here in the name of victory; how can I declare defeat?
I stayed on the train that night and went to the wedding. We danced late into the night, my dress soaked in sweat, joining hands and snapping fingers in time to the music. We celebrated this young couple heading off into their new life together. It was beautiful and amazing. I’m so glad I went.
What breaks my heart as much as the bombs going off is the look of fear and hopelessness in my friends’ eyes. I know that if bad things begin to happen in the country of my citizenship I am part of a greater kingdom, and there I can always find hope. I know that if I happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time I will simply be promoted to the feet of my King, spending the rest of my days in the place I have always most longed to be.
They don’t have this assurance. So I choose to stay with them, to dance with them, to laugh and cry and maybe someday die with them, and as I do I will share with them the hope that I have, that it may become their own.
I appreciate and love the people that worry about me when I’m in places that seem dangerous or unstable or unpredictable. It’s in those very places that the enemy has made so many gains, and I am not willing to retreat in response to his aggressions. I won’t get to stay in this exact place forever, but I doubt it’s the last time I will be in a situation like this.
To quote David Livingstone, “If a commission by an earthly king is considered an honor, how can a commission by a Heavenly King be considered a sacrifice?”
It’s an honor to fulfill the command of the King, and I have no doubts He will preserve my steps for however long He wills.
So I know I am safe. Safe enough.