Created in the Image of God

If each of us has been created in the image of God, what makes me the harbinger of my justice? Who am I - really?
These are questions I continue to ask as we 'round the corner' of this country.
This one thing I know (among others) that I am created in the image of God and that is not a unique thing - nor is it ordinary.

I continue to be given opportunities to sit at the table of reconciliation with many people who do not believe as I do (nor do we look the same) and it is hard work. I know why people like to stay within their comfort zones of racial, ethnic, gender, socio-economic, language, and national hatreds (prejudice is a nice word for hate). It's not hard to live in those places.

It's not easy to let go of those things I've grown up with all my life. If I let those things go, who will I be? I believe, as a follower of Jesus, that the rules of how I live my life have changed; and, I'm pissed about it sometimes. After all, how come I've gotta make nice? Why can't you go first? I think that's called PRIDE! And so, I'm learning to listen, actively listen, because it makes life more exciting and not ordinary.

Where you are, where you live, what would happen if you let go of one of your hatreds and reached out to touch someone different than you? You'd probably get bit, smacked, cussed...or maybe something uncommonly good might happen. The "I could get hurt" thoughts will probably outweigh the good. But, we're all created in God's image. Your life would never be the same either way.

As I film the South, feelings burn and words don't effectively describe the spinning in my mind. I remember "colored women" on bathroom doors and not understanding that as a child. My father and mother whispering as we drove through this part of the country with state trooper escorts. I thought we were royalty. Now, I'm all grown up...
I know better.
What does that mean? What do I do with all that? I don't know. I take it one moment at a time. And the camera rolls and I meet people who bleed the same red as I do and hurt just as bad as I do and each of us want healing. What will we let go of?

Road Silence

There's 'road kill', 'road rage', and 'road trip' but what about 'road silence'? I've named it 'road silence' because how else can it be defined?
I was standing in an apartment in Seattle when I received a call from a man in Portland OR - Mark. We spoke of the docu-journey and how the things we'd seen were beginning to redefine many things about us. He recommended, based on his experience, a time of silence for the duration of our driving times on the road. Well, we have driven in silence twice - six hours and three hours.

This is not the silence of anger or pouting or boredom because I hate the music, but the silence of inner prayer - talking with God and waiting for an answer that may or may not ever come. The key word - waiting.

It's refreshing in expectancy and fearful with doubt, "What the hell am I doing?" I'm not a 'holier than thou' Christian, although I have my elitist moments:o so forgive me as I let my fig leaves fall or forgive me as I pick up the fig leaves that have fallen. You may ask 'fig leaves"? Those things that cover who I really am!
Yes, during my moments of silence, God has allowed me to see the fig leaves I have sown together to hide my brokenness and believe will absorb the stinking bloody ooze of sloth, pride, anger, greed, gluttony, lust, and envy. These moments have exposed the squeezing of paintful thoughts and revelation to the surface. How do I write of those things in the midst of photographing breathless beauty and bonding with two women who've become dearest friends? And, we've made some great friends along the way and our world view has expanded.

My mind continues to wander through memories of my youth, the schools I've attended, adulthood, and dream chasing.
I'm continuously in awe of what we're doing and during those moments of silence laughter and tears have burst to the surface - wanting to be expressed. We're novice film makers - filming our first documentary.