[This is Part II of a series. For context, please start with Part I before proceeding.]

I recently wrote about stewarding our vehicle. While it may seem a trivial matter, the minivan made a difference in the lives of those who were served with a warm ride to a migrant processing center in the middle of the night or the newly arrived refugee family who had no other alternative transport to get to the hospital. It’s impossible to over-humanize one over whom God has declared “my image.”

But it’s time to talk about stewardship of another kind. Stewardship of our experiences, sharing what we’ve seen and heard and learned. What we have witnessed with our own eyes, up close and personal. And I’ve seen a few things. We all have. Not all those things are relevant at a given time and place. Some things are forgotten until current events recall them to our minds and prompt us to share what we witnessed with a wider audience. A recent events brought to mind a beautiful memory from 2017.

I left my three young children in the very capable hands of my husband and family members so I could travel overseas. I do travel with kids. This was no exception. My youngest daughter, due in three months, was an easy travel companion.

At the time, we lived in San Diego and our children attended a German immersion charter school near our home. All the kids learned German (various levels of current retention). Each class had a minimum of 40% native German speakers and each week they switched between their teacher who taught in English and their teacher who taught exclusively in German. It was brilliant. Why German? people would ask. Because the school was close to our house. I didn’t care what language it was, I just wanted them to be immersed in a cross-cultural, non-English language environment.

And it was an IB school. The International Baccalaureate school system was new to me, but we joyfully embraced the educational philosophy and understood its benefits.

Thus I was delighted when I realized the school I was visiting on my overseas trip was an IB school. The historic facility with immaculate grounds was staffed by educators from across the globe and the local community, people passionate about educating those in their care. This school had existed in this space for over 150 years, reminding me of my own historic school in East Africa, which weathered colonialism and revolutions, violent times and times of peace. I deeply appreciated the commitment of the staff and faculty, who persist through many challenges. It was thrilling to hear from folks who shared a vision for education.

I hadn’t thought about the school in a long time.

It was forgotten.

Until recently.

I heard the headline report at the top of the hour, but I didn’t pursue further information. Days ago, during my evening deep dive news recap, details jumped off the screen. Three college students were shot in Burlington, Vermont as they walked down the street. They survived, but with serious injuries. One, Hisham Awartani, will likely never walk again.

Awartani is a graduate of Ramallah Friends School, the news report said, “a Quaker-run K-12 school in the West Bank.” He was probably enrolled as a student when I visited. The students, staff and faculty, along with every other person outside the gate of the school in Ramallah and the surrounding hills– the coffee vendor, the soccer players, the professional beer brewer, the farmer, the shepherd, the businesswomen, the taxi driver– are likely all still there. I’ve seen their faces, shaken their hands, shared meals, and bid farewell.

Personal interaction in the past brings a situation close in the present. It humanizes a face that we envision as vapor. . . or ignore all together. A memory or encounter properly stewarded never exhibits contempt for one created as the image of God.* It is impossible to over-dignify. Let us steward our stories, encounters and experiences in a manner that brings glory to the One whose image we all carry.

“. . . the very first step toward reconciling Jew and Palestinian was the restoration of human dignity. Justice and righteousness were what I had been hungering and thirsting for. This was the third choice that ran like a straight path between violent opposition and calcified, passive non-resistance. If I were really committing my life to carry God’s message to my people, I would have to lift up, as Jesus had, the men and women who had been degraded and beaten down.”

– Elias Chacour in his 1984 memoir, ‘Blood Brothers,’ pg 154

* For a deeper theological analysis on this use of “as the image of God” versus “in the image of God” terminology, I recommend reading “Being God’s Image,” by Dr. Carmen Joy Imes. IVP, 2023.