Moving

June 17, 2010

Hello,

Thank you so much for reading my blog, my studies of the heart, over the last half year. I really appreciate your comments and personal messages of encouragement. It’s been such a privilege to share our thoughts and hearts together and make new friends.

I am now moving and I won’t be publishing any new posts on this blog anymore. I will still be writing, if you’d like to know where or to keep in contact, please send me an email: saysalam.hello@gmail.com

Thanks,

TalibalQaleb

Jesus and Journalists

June 10, 2010

The woman was pretty, and she stared into my eyes. Her hair was hazel, her eyes blue. In the background, a Morgan sports car, freshly polished and glistering in the sun, stretched across the scene, casting strong shadows onto the floor. The sky above, a deep, mediterenean blue, matched her eyes, as I took a brush and altered them. A colleague and friend, stretching in his leather chair, leant over and looked at my mac screen and the developing scene within it,  ‘…

He stopped speaking as the presenters’ voice on the Radio, in a shoked accent, said that two bombs had exploded in the underground 30 minutes ago.

This started a journey for me, and a challenge in my heart.

That journey, brought me to encounter and experience God’s love, and away from media and graphic design. Then it brought me to meet with some of the people involved the the Radio reports that day.

Over the last year, through some friends, some exciting ‘chance’ encounters, and some amazing times with God, another question has filled my heart. ‘What would happen if God were to help me meet and share about him, with people in media, arts and journalism?’

What if the people who are paid, trained, and specifically given a place in each society to communicate and share perspectives, were to come to encounter the love and transformation of Jesus.

What do you think? Help me think. What stories do you have.

Comment here or email me : saysalam.hello@gmail.com

Let’s start a conversation.

About

November 3, 2009

The wind rattled the co-op windows, already streaming with rainwater. The British February evening was growing dark and cold outside. Inside, my heart was breaking. I stared, transfixed into the eyes of the man sitting across the table from me. Like the windows behind him, his eyes were glazed with water. He took a sip of his tea, placed it carefully onto the saucer, gave a long, thoughtful sigh and with his hand nursing the cup, said, “when the bomb had ended, and I had checked my mother in the house was OK, I tried to look outside to see the plane that had dropped it. I was shaking. Very high in the sky I could see with my eyes a plane circling. It looked like it was white, but it was hard to tell. I tried, but I couldn’t really see whether it was American, British or Iraqi.” I was experiencing one of my first ever experiences of Iraqi hospitality. A few minutes earlier, Ali and I had been standing in line at the supermarket checkout. Seeing I had a book on Iraq in my hand, and a list of the Arabic words I had been memorizing whilst trying to buy my food that evening, he introduced himself. “Excuse me! Are you learning Arabic? I myself am from Iraq, do you have time for me to buy you a cup of tea?”

I did.

So we sat.

As Ali continued to explain how his father died, I realized that there was something far deeper my heart was desiring. Since I began following Jesus Christ a few years before, I had been very interested in learning more about the Middle East where, of course, he had lived. I knew he wasn’t a blond haired, blue eyed, European. I knew Jesus Christ wasn’t like me. I knew he was Middle-Eastern and so wanted to learn as much as I could about this area and culture. That’s why I became a student, or as I am now learning, in Arabic, a Talib. But, staring into Ali’s eyes and listening to his words, I realized there was something far,

far,

deeper my heart desired. That night, in the co-op, my brain wanted information, my stomach food, and my heart desired other hearts. Hearts to share with. Hearts to live among. Hearts that cry, shout, pray, speak and share. Since then, my heart has become a student. A student of many other hearts. Hearts of Arabs, Persians, Villagers, Politicians, Schoolteachers, Schoolchildren, Poor as well as Rich people, and most importantly of all, I hope, of God’s own heart. In Arabic, heart is al Qaleb, and in this co-op, sitting opposite Ali, I became, a Talib al Qalib.

This is a collection of my ongoing study of many hearts.

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