Reformer

It was tucked away in the second hand shop with a pile of junk precariously balanced on the top. Nobody would have noticed it.  Nothing special, it reminded me of my Nana's flat - musty smelling and covered in dust.

But I saw it.  Beneath the brown veneer, I saw purpose.  I saw beauty and I saw something I needed.  So, I surprised the staff by asking for it to be dug out from underneath the pile, obviously not been moved for a long time.  And they very kindly deposited it into my car.

You see, I needed a particular sized cabinet for our television.  I wanted to create something that would be my 'statement of intent' for the way I wanted our new lounge decorated.  And I saw huge potential in this hidden gem.

Taking it home, I sanded it down, ripping off the veneer and taking it back to the bare wood.  Painting it again, I remembered my friend's words to me a few weeks ago.  Words I had doubted in the weeks following our mugs of camping coffee.

"You are a reformer." 

And as I painted over the bare wood, breathing life into dry bones, I realised that those words are true.

I AM a reformer.  I see things that others don't see, and I have chosen to spend my life bringing those things into being.

My heart has been wrecked for those who are invisible to others, cowering under the pile of their shame, hoping nobody sees them.  My prayers have become unutterable groans for those who, stripped back to nothing but their pain, are ignored by the rest of the world - a world who wants shiney and new.  I find myself sobbing at the extent of the death-stories that I read and hear. I weep in Nandos with my friend telling me about Yazidi women pleading to be killed because of the shame they feel. I weep in the local cafe thinking about my new friend so devastated by abuse.  I weep for terrorists and the terrorised.  I weep for the abused and the abusers.  And I have to pull over in the car because I can't see where I'm going anymore, my tears have become so violent and my stomach feels as though I have been kicked hard.

But where others see death and shame, I see hope and beauty.  When I feel the deep pain and mourning belonging to someone else, I also see the bright future that could be ahead of them.  When I hear about sadness that never goes away, I see a deep well of joy that can never be quenched.  When I see the pile of those dry bones, so strangely written about by the prophet Ezekiel, I see life and action.  When I see illness, I see healing.  Where others see something dirty which shouldn't be touched, I see treasure.  When I hear about people locked in their own prison, I see freedom flinging wide those prison doors.  When I listen to my friends' stories that cause me to so weep, I know without a doubt that there is hope.

So, I make my choices.

I choose to dig out the potential, the beauty, the joy, the purpose and see lives reformed.

I choose to treat the 'nothing special' like royalty.

I choose to take the pain I so violently feel and turn it into action.

I choose to speak life and truth over dry bones.

I choose to look for hope.

I choose to find the treasure.

I choose to do all I can to change the world.

I choose to be a reformer,