Sarah Quezada
Sarah Quezada's Blog
ode to daisy / May 18, 09:22 AM
My dog Daisy is a fun-loving, half-crazy, people-overwhelming, sweet and cute golden retriever. She adores meeting new people, wants to be right next to me or my husband every moment, and just generally loves life. I usually try to avoid making too many spiritual parallels to my relationship with Daisy, but today she is at the vet being spayed, so I figured a short blog in her honor could be ok. Here are a few things I’ve learned about God and life from Daisy.
1. Worry questions how much I trust.
In preparation for today, we tried to soothingly explain what was going to happen, prepare her in advance, and apologize for her upcoming suffering. All Daisy comprehended was that we were petting her and talking to her. Other than that, her mouth hung open, tongue slung to the side, and she was happy. It’s beautiful not to worry and to simply trust that the one who takes care of you will always take care of you.
2. God doesn’t withhold good gifts.
Chocolate makes dogs sick. That’s what I’ve heard anyway. But that doesn’t stop Daisy for begging shamelessly when she finds me popping York pieces. She wants some, but I don’t give it to her. And she’s sad. But I know it’s not good for her. I also don’t feed her my hair curling cream when she begs for that when I’m getting ready in the morning. I, however, am wildly guilty of assuming God is withholding from me the very thing that would satisfy me. “If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!” (Matt 7:11)
3. We can be greedy for God’s gifts.
My dog loves ice, which I believe is somewhat strange. Still, when I’m filling a cup, I usually drop one on the floor for her. She chases it around, carries it over to the stairs and chews happily… until she realizes that someone else is filling their glass with ice. Then she runs back to the refrigerator to beg. All the while, she is chomping furiously trying to finish the first piece so she has room for another. Sometimes I wonder… how often do I rush through the good things God has given me while begging for another?
I often look at my dog and wonder if God laughs at my foolish attempts to be God the way I am amused when Daisy clearly thinks she’s a person. The parallels aren’t always the same, and maybe it’s somewhat of a silly stretch to pull too many spiritual lessons. But sometimes she just makes me think about God in a new way, and it’s fun to find those reminders in the simple corners of life.
Tears of the Heart / May 5, 03:51 PM
I’ve always been a pretty emotional person. When I first got involved in urban ministry, I spent many tears as I witnessed young city children being handed inferior education in a public school system that had served me quite well. My heart broke each time I discovered a friend who struggled against drug addiction. I felt deep anger (which I also express in tears) as I watched city politics blatantly neglect my community and my neighbors. Sometimes I felt overwhelmed by sadness.
These things still break my heart, yet I find them making me cry less and less. Instead, there are other occasions that bring tears to my eyes, and many of these moments are when I see people doing incredible things for the Kingdom of God. A few weeks ago, I was at Passion City Church’s Good Friday service. They introduced two high school seniors, Cort and Christian, who rode their bicycles from Santa Monica, CA to Savannah, GA and raised $50,000 for Living Water International, supporting clean water access in developing countries. As the young men came to the stage at that event, tears streamed down my face. Or I recently read an article about a large Latino church and a long-standing African-American mega church coming together to celebrate and worship together in a community where black-brown violence is prevalent. These beautiful pictures of community, service, solidarity, and love are where I spend my tears now.
I am blessed to be surrounded by so many incredible Mission Year team members who give of themselves and bless others every day. Still, when I hear the stories, I am deeply moved. It is truly joyful and powerful to witness the outpouring of Christ’s love through people.
www.missionyear.org
Spring In My Step / Apr 7, 06:49 PM
I love sunshine. I like to be outside. I like flowers and vegetable gardens, sprinklers and wading pools, lemonade and ice cream (not consumed at the same time – just to be clear). Since I grew up in the Southeast, I noticed a pattern in my life of feeling particularly melodramatic around February of each year. I also observed that my mood quickly improved with an increase in temperature and sunlight. Plenty of medical studies have made me feel better by suggesting that I am not the only one who is unstable in this way.
But these last months, I have been a bonified baby. My last three years in sunny Southern California spoiled me rotten, and while my move to Atlanta has been incredible in countless ways, I took a hit in the weather department. Even though everyone kept reassuring me that this was “the rainiest fall since 1970-something or other” and a “more bitter and snowy winter than usual,” I ignored their qualifications and sunny promises and found myself falling into whiny, complaining, baby-mode. There may have even been some crying. I don’t know.
So as March was moving into its final weeks, I could only describe myself as yearning for spring.
Then it happened! These past two weeks or so have been lush with spring flowers, bright, clear days, and sunshine streaming in the windows. Sitting at our outdoor Resurrection Sunday service this past week, I even passed around the sunscreen. I feel an emotional gasping for air as if after holding my breath underwater for a superhuman amount of time.
Desperate anticipation.
That’s how I feel about spring this year. As ridiculous as it sounds, I have held out for flowers, birds, and shorts for the last several weeks, thinking, “I only have to make it a little longer.” Desperate anticipation. An expectation that gets me onto the next day.
Hope.
Celebrating our Risen Lord this last Sunday, I kept coming back to this experience of Hope. Urban ministry can be tiring. Sometimes it can seem like the rainiest season since 1970-something or other… or it may feel bitter, long, lonely, and difficult. But I rejoice because I know a Savior who lives, who loves us, and who is coming back again! Every now and again, I need that reminder that Easter offers. When things feel desperate here on Earth and I am working as hard as I can, I must hold onto that hope even more fiercely. And I am thankful that I serve a God who is good and gives his children good gifts because I am reveling in this spring!
“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.” (1 Peter 1:3)
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The Shiny Scare / Dec 3, 09:25 AM
The problem with taking history classes in middle school and high school is that each class seems to start with what they determine as the beginning and move forward from there. Inevitably, after rehashing the American Revolution, Louisiana Purchase, and the 49ers each year, the class ends somewhere around World War I and more recent history is put off “until next time.” But my junior year in high school, I took an American history class that finally pushed into more modern times a couple months before school was out.
I was really fascinated to learn about the red scares, “McCarthyism”, the Cold War, and the Cuban Missile Crisis. Communism. A word I had heard throughout my life as something from the past with clear negative connotations, but no actual explanations. Spoken only in hushed tones, this c-word seemed mysterious, dangerous, and something that good, Christian girls like me would surely steer clear of. But then I started reading. And as I discovered the promotion of cooperation and the value that people should be cared for regardless of their production in the marketplace, it actually sounded somewhat Christian to me. At least it seemed to mirror some of the things I’d learned in church: put others before yourself. Our value comes not from our jobs, savings accounts, or possessions but simply by our creation as sons and daughters of God.
Of course, then I opened my mouth. Sitting among my youth group friends in our history class, I voiced my interest in this economic system and questioned its automatic demonization. Immediately, my friend (who is now in the Air Force) pointed his finger and simply shouted, “Communist!” That quickly became the group joke that Sarah was a Communist. I was still learning, but I knew enough to know that this was not something I should enjoy being called. So I defended myself saying, “It just sounds like a pretty good system.” And then I shrugged and added, “But it’ll never happen this side of heaven.”
Who has the power to oversee the distribution of resources? And how can you trust someone with that much power? If the public owns the means of production, who makes the decisions about them? And if compensation is based on personhood instead of production, how will anyone ever work hard enough to get anything done? The limitations of Communism were clear to me. And if they aren’t to you, ask most any American and they will quickly tell you what is wrong with Communism. But something else has become clear to me over the years, and especially the last few months – the limitations of Capitalism.
If profits are the only goal, what will happen to workers in an increasingly technological and global society? When companies can save money by damaging the environment or placing employees in dangerous situations, how can we trust them not to? If basic necessities (food, health care, housing, etc.) are for-profit entities, what happens to those who can’t afford them? And if an industry vital to the public is owned by individuals, does the public have to bail it out if the individuals make unwise, greedy decisions?
In short, what I’ve realized is that Capitalism has strengths as a system. It’ll just never work right this side of heaven.
So where does that leave me? Disillusioned with all economic structures? No, I don’t think so. I feel that I can evaluate, critique, and then support legislation that accounts for the limitations of the particular economic structure in place. To accept any system without accounting for the inevitable weaknesses of it only leads to many of the abuses that have come to be associated with it. As a Christian, I don’t feel any requirement to pledge my allegiance to any economic system. When economics contribute to oppressive leadership, Christians must stand against it. And when economics promote a message that you must always chase the next shiny thing no matter what the cost, then I believe Christians must call out for simplicity over materialism, value for human workers, and care for the vulnerable.
At least as long as we’re on this side of heaven.
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Remember / Aug 12, 05:11 PM
Eight years ago, my parents picked me up and drove me away from Atlanta, Georgia. I had finished my Mission Year and was preparing to head back to college. Two months ago, I followed the U-Haul driven by my husband back into the city that changed my life, ready to take on my new role as Recruitment Director for Mission Year. Wow – how time flies!
It’s funny the things you forget, and it’s interesting the things you remember. I remembered Atlanta being green, but I didn’t recollect it feeling so spacious – three years in Los Angeles will lead to that perspective! I forgot the layout of the city and how to get around, but I remember so clearly the bus stop where I most likely spent hours of my life waiting for the 15. And I vividly remember the streets of my Mission Year neighborhood, even though when I’m shopping in the new Best Buy/Bed, Bath, and Beyond/Lowe’s/Kroger/Office Depot/PetCo./Barnes and Nobel mega-complex, I almost forget the place this area used to be.
It’s also interesting to me what others recall about Atlanta. Upon announcing our move to the Southern City, we listened to many a sympathetic foreboding about Atlanta traffic. Coming from LA, we figured, “Hey, can’t be worse than what we’re doing now….right?” We couldn’t have been more correct. Granted, my husband and I both work and go to church in our local community, so our commutes are nonexistent. Still, on those occasions when we do leave the neighborhood, whether by streets or on interstates, we rarely hit any noticeable traffic. Maybe it’s because LA has skewed our perspective. Or perhaps it’s because when people talk about Atlanta, they’re not talking about our neighborhood.
I checked out several Atlanta maps before moving and after arriving to the city. My neighborhood is walking distance to Turner Field. My address is Atlanta, and I am a few short minutes from downtown. Still, my community is left off of many Atlanta maps. They are structured in such a way that downtown is at the bottom, and the map extends north to include areas not technically in the city limits, but the Atlanta that people prefer to remember. In some recent excursions north, we also discovered that here was where the traffic that everyone talked about!
The South Atlanta community where my husband and I reside is an area folks prefer to forget. In fact, the very street we live on was not even paved until the 1980’s when the residents finally raised the money and had it paved themselves. Business owners have passed over our community, leaving an area with fewer jobs and limited resources. Break-ins are common and when I talked to a police officer about it, he just told me to buy a gun as if me defending myself was the only option on could hope for. (By the way, I did not.)
But I love South Atlanta. I love that “earthy” folks have started a community garden. I am excited about the businesses entering the community, including a local coffee shop and my husband’s new recording studio. And I can’t beat that fact that I go to church with many in my community and that I am getting to know my neighbors and entering the fabric of South Atlanta. I believe that Jesus often spent his time with folks who society neglected. And I believe that he calls us to follow him to the margins – even the margins of a map! In fact, it is in these types of communities where Mission Year places its teams, that I have felt closest to Jesus and sensed his presence in the small success of a child, the laugh of a woman friend, and the joy of neighbors around a dinner table. It is a place where my memories are strong, and I will never forget.
