War
College Testimony
by Caitlyn Spence
Graduate of the Revolution Session of The War College
When people ask me why I came to the War College, or why I
live in the Downtown East side, I am constantly at a loss of
what I should say. The reason being that my reasons for coming
are completely different from the reasons I have stayed.
I first decided to come to The War College because I thought
the idea was remarkably romantic. I was a kid who would throw
words like “mercy” and “love” into every sentence, because I
was sure of the very magic these words had to take a broken,
unclean thing and make it into something beautiful and holy. I
spouted quotes from Mother Teresa and Saint Francs as if I
knew them personally, and would argue with anyone how
forgiveness and love were the answer to every problem that
confronts man. These beliefs were in no way wrong, but were
founded on nothing but an adoration of the words themselves,
having no grounding in reality; I believed these words
fiercely, aggressively, although I actually knew nothing about
them.
Experiencing these ideals, especially in the first 2 years
here, was shocking, and very nearly traumatic, which brings me
to why I have stayed.
I don’t know the first thing about love.
I don’t know anything about mercy, or justice; I don’t have a
clue about forgiveness, but I can think of nowhere in the
world where I would rather learn about them. There’s no one in
the world I would rather learn it with than the community
here. The truth is, though I often feel blind to the things of
God, I have witnessed Christ moving in this neighborhood in
undeniable, unexpected, painfully true ways. Though I
understand nothing of meekness, I have seen her bring peace to
disputes in slum hotels. Though I am confounded by grace, I
have witnessed it moving through dark alleyways, bringing new
friends out of shame. I know nothing of real, desperate hope,
but I’ve seen it fighting it’s way through broken people’s
broken veins, as vital as blood in their small, delicate,
ultimately insignificant bodies.
I was a kid when I moved here – young, excited, and wildly
arrogant. I came expecting to save people from addiction with
little more than an idealistic vocabulary. Any growth I have
known comes from that lexicon, which I had built my life
around, being shattered and torn apart by reality. Everything
I know of Christ has been showed to me by angry, scared people
in this neighborhood, and with nothing more than simple
conversations they have redeemed my idealism for truth.
I have stayed because I need to have hope to the same degree
of desperation I have seen in my neighborhood. I need to love
with the commitment and urgency I have been showed here. I
have stayed because mercy and justice have not finished
changing me here. Quite simply, Christ has not finished
showing me who he is and crushing my idea of who he should be,
and he does that with the hands of withered women, who leave
dirt marks on my cheeks as they wipe tears from my face. I
have been shown grace, mercy, joy, patience by people who
should have no real idea what these words mean – people who
haven’t studied them or analyzed them, and yet they are the
people I have learned from, and must continue learning from. I
believe this because it’s absurd, the same way that the Son of
God being raised by a teenage refugee is absurd, or the way
that the risen Christ showed himself first to a women of
former ill-repute. The absurdity of God does not make His
truth any less believable, but instead proves His involvement
in our lives; no human logic could teach me the ways of God,
and being shown such divine living in such un-divine
circumstances, proves God’s presence here to me.
I believe in love. I believe in grace. The weight of these
words have crushed me; left me broken and weak, seemingly
defeated, because the meaning of words like these are deeper
than I ever realised. I daresay, if I had foreknown the
absolute reality of such crushing truths, I probably would
have preferred to live, die and be a part of soft lies.
When I was young(er), I believed in the impact of such words,
now I am impacted BY such words; wrestled to the floor where I
must face the small honesty that in order to define love, one
must be destroyed by it.
I know this much is true, after 3 years of War College –
I belong to Christ; I am made in the image of YHWH and the
spirit is making me ever more like him. Hope and faith are
birthed out of painful doubt and despair, and I have seen
their first fruits in me. I am walking a frustrating, narrow
path like thousands have before, and Christ is never apart
from me. I am holy and blameless. I strive for intimacy and
honesty in all my relationships. I write poems and make art in
attempts to convey my feelings, and somehow that blesses the
church.
I am prone to wandering.
I am not a goal-oriented, missional-minded person, and that’s
okay. I enjoy serving as opposed to leading. I strive to see
the good in everyone I meet, and I sometimes ignore the bad. I
love that our God is Trinity. I love laughing and crying, and
loving people means that I do both with them. I am growing
into a very healthy understanding of death.
Sometimes I get sad about making new friends, because I am
aware I may one day be at their funeral, then I think of all
the things I will experience with them before that, and I
choose to love them anyway. I will never again injure myself
intentionally. I will never kill myself.
I have been blessed enough to experience tremendous beauty in
my life, and I am content to live for just the very experience
of a crisp, autumn day.
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