It's been a while, I know. But it's also been a busy beginning of 2011. Lemme recall what's been going on in the Eubanks household...well, Caroline is still living in Australia (it's been about four months since I've seen her!), Sammi is graduating from App State in December, and I'm finally a senior at Pope. From January until May (almost June, really), I've done the following:
- Explored New Orleans with my parents
- Traveled to Belize, Central America, on a mission trip
- Participated in a pageant for Relay for Life cancer research foundation
- Met with 10,000 youth environmental activists in Washington, D.C. for Power Shift 2011
- Performed two songs at Pope Chorus Cabaret
- Cleaned myself up for Prom at the Fox Theatre in Atlanta
- Drenched myself in mud at the Warrior Dash 2011
- Said farewell to some of my favorite people in the Class of 2011
One of my favorite moments in New Orleans was hearing the saxoph
one and accordion from around the corner on my way to the Vieux Carre, or Old Square, and spotting musicians whose love for their city radiated through the town. Their smiles, openness, and willingness to share their home spread that distinct New Orleanian energy to tourists, shop owners, fellow musicians, artists, diners at the nearby Cafe Du Monde, and me.
Although my trip to NOLA was short, I can still feel how it has changed me.
As a traveler, most places I visit mold me, change my pace, and keep my addi
ction to travel alive. But New Orleans is different. Yes, Bourbon Street's neon lights, adult clubs, and array of underaged drunkards reminded me of Las Vegas, but New Orleans accepts what other places hide, creating a gumbo of history, music, voodoo, nightlife, culinary trademarks, and people that you'll never forget.
Overall, New Orleans is a collage of sensory details in my mind. The spontaneous breakfas
t creation of ice cream sandwiched between warm waffles at Camellia Gril
l. Waiting in line for a po-boy at Acme Oyster House in the French Quarter. Satisfying my stomach with nutty pralines (that's pronounced prah-leans, not pray-leens) and powdery beignets. Understanding why Huck Finn loved the Mississippi River so much. In the words of New Orleanian Lil Wayne, remember to "keep your mouth closed and let your eyes listen" so that every destination can leave its mark.
How do you even begin totalk about spiritual experiences and serving?
Whenever people asked me how Belize was after I returned, there really wasn't much I could say. My mindset before leaving for Belize focused on the facts of the situation ahead: I was spending a week in a country very different from my own with people I didn't know anything about experiencing a God I'd been far away from. How was I going to feed other people's spiritual walks when I was exhausted from my own? A few days before our departure on spring break, I was discouraged about even going to Belize, a trip
that cost my family a large chunk of money, cost me a large portion of my time, and made me think if I was even spiritually fit to go. On our first night in Belize, after a day of "becoming accustomed to the country," I wrote:
"I'd like to stop making excuses to God. He knows my thoughts anyway, so what's the point in lying to him? I have to stop running away from him and my sad reflection in comparison to His. I want to truly worship like I used to--unashamed. I want my mind and heart to be consumed with fascination for him. I have fear that this week will be wasted because I'm not where I should be with God. I'm not close to him. I fear my own apathy. I'm afraid I will be useless to Him. Why am I here?"
Before I left for Belize, a teacher of mine wisely explained that "good things happen when the right people do the right things for the right reasons." The problem was that I wasn't in Belize for the right reasons, I didn't feel like the right person to serve others in the ways we needed to, and I didn't even have a reason for being there.
But God uses the weakest to show his power. He uses his children that are most down to show us how high he can lift us up. Over the next 6 days, he showed me who I am in his image, that I have a story that needs to be found, and that He is stronger than anything Satan can slip into my life.
One of the first struggles I experienced on my trip was apathy. If God didn't have a reason for me to be there, then why should I care about the trip at all? One phrase kept repeating in my mind and pulling me down:
"If only I had an enemy bigger than my apathy, I could've won." -Mumford & Sons
Soon enough, my mind changed. I met beautiful Belizeans, grew into relationships with my fellow Christ followers, and saw God's love working through all of us, both Belizean and American. I led worship songs at a church in a completely different country and had to trust God through that nerve-racking Sunday morning. But the thing about my faith this that it's a roller coaster: once the experience has reached a peak, it must come back down:
"Fake. Hypocrite. Failure. Unholy. Unworthy. Empty. These are all words that I
feel describe me when thinking about my relationship with God. I feel void of any spiritual connection or compassion within myself. Who I am doesn't match up with who I want to be. Can He change me? Change all of this? Captivate me so I can live every moment of this week, this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity in Belize? Soon, I hope."
The next day didn't bring a sense of completeness to my heart, but it did bring a spirit of joy. We went to the Nazarene school that day and played with children of all ages and dispositions. We shared Bible stories and games with them, and in return they hugged and smiled at us, hanging on our necks and holding our hands. That day we saw God through the Belizeans making us feel welcomed, but God's purpose for me in Belize wouldn't be revealed just yet.
More trials arrived when we were told by the mission leaders to writ
e down and practice our testimonies, or faith stories. This troubled me because of my blessed background, one with very little hardship or even need for God. I have two loving, giving parents who grant me the freedom I want. I have two sisters and plenty of cousins to grow up with. I live in a beautiful home, drive my own car, and travel many places that I long to go. What bothered me most is that my faith story doesn't involve death, a dramatic change in my life, or a time when I thought God was the only way I could hold on. I've always gone to church. I usually read my Bible. I live in the South, where the first story you hear is about Noah's ark and the first building you recognize is the white baptist church down the road. When I needed to explain my faith in Christ to somebody with very little possessions and a heart already bursting with faith, I felt fake. I wondered how to explain that I needed
God even with all my possessions and blessings. I learned that it's easy to love God when you need him, when you're in trouble or when life seems difficult. It is even more difficult to have faith when it seems that you don't need him, when you become self-reliant, when you're doing just fine at the moment.
I learned even more that just because I can't see my story now doesn't mean that I don't have one. I'm not plain, useless, or fake. I do have a story, but God isn't finished with me yet. I learned what spiritual warfare is and how Satan warps my thoughts so that I alienate myself from the Lord. Satan lied to me and made me think that I was unworthy of God's grace, that I was a hollow shell of a person, that my worship meant nothing to Him. But in reality, I am fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139) and by remaini
ng in Him, I will find myself.
"Lord, give me eyes to see you, ears to hear you, and a heart to understand you."
The next milestone of my year thus far occurred in Washington, D.C. at Power Shift 2011. This youth climate change summit altered how I view my government and the power I have as a young American. Power Shift's agenda included workshops, training sessions, keynote speakers, video showings, socializing opportunities, and everything one weekend needs to be the biggest grassroots organizing event in history. I, along with 10,000 other college-aged (around there) youth from all over the country, headed to our nation's capital to change the way our government reacts to the facts of climate change and to unite as current grassroots organizers as well as future leaders of this country.
Leaving the suburbs for D.C. with my friend, Stephanie, empowered me from the start. We traveled on our own by car, plane, and metro until we finally reached the Convention Center, where we hung our Power Shift lanyards around our necks and proceeded to our cramped hotel room. Walking a few miles to our hotel, I could already tell that I loved D.C. The beautiful apartments, monuments, every building we passed seeming important. Even while the plane landed, I saw every monument I'd flipped through in my U.S. history book, and I knew that everything purposefully fit into place for me to go on that trip. Something big was going to happen.
Two days later, after state breakout sessions, informational panels, organization booths with freebies and stickers, nights in a tiny hotel room with seven other people, keynote speakers like Al Gore and Van Jones, and a completely awesome, exhausting time, our last day at Power Shift arrived. It was time to march.
Now growing up in a conservative state with conservative parents and and conservative neighbors and conservative teachers and conservative politicians, I'd never protested, marched, participated in a sit-in, or anything like what I experienced that Sunday. We began at the Mall across from the White House. As if being in very close proximity to some of the most important buildings in my country wasn't grand enough, I was about to join thousands of like-minded, powerful, intelligent youth in an event that I will tell my children about.
During the march, we stopped at the U.S. Chamber of Commerce, BP headquarters, and GenOn, an energy company that promotes the use of dirty coal. With signs in our hands and green hard hats on our heads, we proclaimed that these companies and institutions weren't speaking for us, the people of America. We proclaimed that BP needed to pay after a year of inaction towards the gulf spill. We proclaimed that our actions that day showed the true face of democracy. We described how our communities were negatively affected by dirty coal companies, our need for green jobs, and the necessity for clean energy in order to make our future bright.
Power Shift created more inside me than fond memories of friends made or a feeling of empowerment from using the voice God gave me; Power Shift 2011 taught me that "every generation needs a new revolution," and that revolution can begin with me.
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