It took three years for Micah and I to formally meet. That was no accident.
We were freshman at Moody Bible Institute
when we noticed each other, realised how annoying we found one another,
and silently decided that we should never meet. But, after years of
ignoring each other in hallways and at social gatherings, we took the
same internship at Antioch Church in Bend, Oregon.
Being stuck in the same small city and team of
interns meant that meeting was inevitable. At first, those same
frustrations shone through. But when we started speaking about poetry
something changed. Suddenly it didn't matter that Micah talks about his
hometown (Long Beach, California) more than many men mention their wives
or that his laugh could put a banshee to shame. We found common ground
and it helped us ignore our obnoxious habits long enough to forge a
friendship that is still strong today.
That friendship has been a challenging catalyst in
our pursuit of God, in the growth of our poetry, and our understanding
of justice. It has led to a lot of poems, many difficult conversations
about the way we live, and some amazing opportunities for Micah to get
involved with organisations, like World Relief, that are doing fantastic work.
Over the years, I've come to respect Micah's true
character. Make no mistake, he's deeply flawed just like the rest of us,
but he's also committed; pursuing Christ through his success, his sins,
and his failures. Like the righteous man who falls seven times yet
rises eight, Micah is steadfast and true to his faith. A faith that
defines true and undefiled religion as caring for widows and orphans in
their distress. Distress not only of their souls but also of their
God calls us to stand up and be voices for the
voiceless. Seeing Micah use his gifts to answer that call is an
inspiring challenge for me to do the same, and I'm sure it will be for
you as well.