Preaching to the Powers

Recently, my lovely roommate, who is in a public speaking class, gave a speech on human trafficking. It's an issue near to both of our hearts, especially in light of the fast-approaching holidays and the excessive amount of buying and consuming that accompanies them. Because of her five minute time limit, she chose to focus specifically on labor trafficking, and much to her annoyance, someone's iPhone went off several times during her speech. Apparently someone in the class before had left it sitting on a desk. No one could figure out how to unlock it and turn the alert sounds off. Courtney persisted in spite of the interruptions, but was really disheartened because she felt her speech wasn't as good/powerful/impacting as it could have been under ideal circumstances.

I was in our kitchen when she got back from her speech class. She told me what happened with a little half frown hanging on the corner of her mouth. And something occurred to me...

A friend had just a few days prior told me about one of his professors who believed people don't preach to other people but to the powers of the world: powers of oppression, powers of injustice, powers of hope. In this process, people sometimes overhear, but they aren't the intended audience. There are a lot of powers that need to hear people advocating for freedom and justice. And the iPhone going off repeatedly in the middle of Courtney's speech gave me hope that the powers were listening...and responding.

Apple is a huge company that I often feel is quickly taking over the world. I'm writing this on a iPad. There are at least five people I can see in the Starbucks where I'm sitting using iPhones at this very moment. Everyone in America knows the cute little logo. A little over a year ago, I would have told you that Apple is one of my favorite companies: great products, great customer service, great people. Now, though, I'm telling you that Apple is not what I thought. If an iPad were made by workers in the States, fair wage laws would push the price up to nearly $15,000. Instead, we pay a few hundred to add it to our armory of Apple products. It would be cliche if I made some statement about the terrible working conditions for Chinese workers making Apple products. You would probably brush it off and skip down to the next paragraph where I'm sure to start talking about bacon or something less heavy than the human rights issues around cheap labor. I don't even know what it's really like inside a factory where people work long hours in poor conditions for low and unfair wages. I have never lived that life, and, like the majority of Americans, I probably never will. A homeless man in Marion Square Park once told me, "You don't know what it's like. You just don't know." He nailed it. But just because Courtney and I don't know what it is like to be homeless in Charleston or to be an underpaid, unfairly treated factory worker for one of the most successful companies in the world does not mean we cannot be activists and preach to the powers. Here's the thing: the powers of injustice and oppression are even harder at work in Apple factories in China than the Chinese workers are. 

So when Courtney spoke out against the injustice of labor trafficking, the powers responded, using the iPhone as a voice. And as she explained her "defeat" to me, it seemed more and more like a victory, where the powers heard her and responded. I told her this, as she sat at my feet in our little kitchen, next to the sink with too many dishes waiting to be washed and the stove where black beans were cooking patiently. I was just thinking out loud, looking for a bit of meaning in her hours of preparation and in her heart for the issue at hand. The two of us arrived at a beautiful moment of grace, though. And it has given us renewed will to not give in to the great defeat of the world.

Thanks be to God for small miracles,
          for responses to our voices,
          for weapons against defeatism.
Lord, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy.
     Have mercy on us.
May the powers of oppression hear:
     the facts,
     the stories,
     the heartbeats.
May they listen and do what we ask.
Oh, the efficacy of our honest hearts' requests!
Lord, teach us justice,
     teach us the way of being free for freedom's sake,
     teach us wisdom in our consuming,
     and grant us a mind set on your kingdom on earth,
          and your kingdom eternal.
Speak out against those who cheat employees of their wages,
Give them voices to call out for themselves,
Give us the courage to be messengers of truth
     for them.
Do not deprive us of your ear, Lord of mercy,
     God of justice.
     So be it.

"'I will speak against those who cheat employees of their wages, who oppress widows and orphans, or who deprive the foreigners living among you of justice, for these people do not fear me,' says the LORD Almighty." Malachi 3:5

That Band Aid Song Got It So Wrong and Yet Still So Right.

There's something wrong with the way we celebrate Christmas! I'm just not convinced we do it right. Thinking we're missing the point of Christmas is not a new or original idea. But every Christmas the conviction still alienates and overwhelms me. Yet again, I feel like Charlie Brown standing on stage asking, "Isn't there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about?" Every time the boxes come down from the attic and Christmas tunes dominate the airwaves, I get so depressed. I turn into this brooding poet version of the Grinch but without the he-even-carved-the-roast-beast ending. I rant: Christmas is too extravagant and excessive. We're missing the real meaning. (I think I run the risk of sounding like that overly dramatic Band Aid song about Africans crying and not even knowing it's Christmas Day. I could do an entire critique on this song, even though it's one of my favorites. But I won't. So please keep reading.)

Because this past year has been especially tumultuous, I really want something different for Christmas. This year, I've made a new commitment to joy. I'm not going to ignore the fact that our Christmases are too materialistic/consumeristic or that we are blinded by our own dancing Christmas lights so carefully adorning every (!) single (!) roof (!). But I am actively choosing to get down off my soapbox and embrace the joyous parts of Christmas.

Cue Linus: "Sure, Charlie Brown, I can tell you what Christmas is all about. Lights, please..."

My Gameplan of Joy

Much singing and dancing to Christmas songs : particularly "The Christmas Song" by The Raveonettes, "All I Want is Truth (For Christmas)" by The Mynabirds, and David Crowder Band's "Angels We Have Heard on High"

Fair trade and homemade gifts : It's unrealistic of me to expect people to stop giving gifts at Christmas. It's a tradition passed down from those wise men in the Bible. But why not give gifts that are responsible and beneficial to the people we never think about: the ones who actually produce them? Fair trade gifts are great and there are lots of fantastic fair trade companies. Even better than that, though, are gifts that actively help people rescued from slavery (often labor slavery). Some of my favorites: SariBari, Thistle Farms, Ten Thousand Villages, International Justice Mission.

Watching Elf at least five or six times, while quoting every line of the movie : "Do you want to get some food? You know, like the code? *wink*"

LoveGaveHope : LoveGave is a project the collective Church of Charleston adopted several years ago to give back to the community. This year we're camping out at three Wal-Marts for 58 straight hours to raise the money and supplies to demolish local orphanages' wishlists. This is my first ever LoveGave event, and I'm stoked. Check in at the LoveGaveHope website between Dec. 6th-8th to watch the live broadcast or to donate.

Enjoying (with eyes all aglow) the rainbow of lights and blow-up Santas on motorcycles : This will take many forms including but not limited to the Christmas tree lighting in Marion Square this Saturday, the annual boat parade (also Saturday), and the inevitable Christmas Eve drive through a Rock Hill neighborhood with my family.

Baking Christmas goodies and decorating gingerbread houses with my little sister : Prepare your hearts for an explosion of goopy frosting and sugary candies.

Drinking eggnog with friends : I've never tried it before and I'm lactose intolerant...so this is sure to be an adventure.

Being with my family : Seriously, I just want to be fully present in their lives for the few days I'm home. We'll go for wintery hikes, see The Hobbit and Les Miserables, drink hot tea together, etc.



(Ha. Bono has a mullet.)

That Band Aid song tells us that "the greatest gift they'll get this year is life." Let's be real. Life is the greatest gift we'll all get this year. That resonates a lot with me this Christmastide for various reasons. So for my own sake, I am going to enjoy life this Christmas! C'mon! Enjoy it with me! Why does it have to be complicated? It doesn't have to be an "either/or." I can be aware of the footprint Christmas leaves on the world, choosing to be a responsible consumer/celebrator, while also rejoicing in the fact that I have life and friends and family. There can be joy in the awareness.

"Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose!"

Freedom.

This word has been indiscreetly stalking me for the past month or so. If I'm being honest with myself, it's actually been stalking me for much longer than that. As an American, perhaps a reluctant one, "freedom" is a word I casually throw around. YES. I take advantage of my freedoms...in regards to speech, religion, voting, education, you know what I'm talking about. I wasn't necessarily born with a silver spoon in my mouth (that's a thing, right?), but I have been given some of the most incredible opportunities in my life. I grew up well fed and loved. I never worried about where money or meals or rest would come from. I have had the joy of traveling to San Francisco, Costa Rico, Honduras, Puerto Rico, and all along the east coast of the States. And most importantly, my parents raised me to love God and to seek His kingdom first in all things. Why am I saying all this? I think it's to remind myself that I am FREE.

I'm a college student. I feel bound by budgets and homework. I feel bound by the 24 hour day that is always, without fail, much too short. I feel bound by the knowledge that I have and by the knowledge that I lack (Sophomore=wise fool). But I have been set free.

Guess what.
In case you haven't heard, there are more slaves today than at there were at any other time in history. 27 million is the number people keep shoving down my throat. Or attempting to shove down my throat. 27 million is quite a bit to swallow. For me at least. I knew human trafficking was an issue in our world today, but that was just head knowledge until Christmas break. First, an alternative break trip to Puerto Rico made me question where goods I use everyday (particularly coffee) come from. A lot of them aren't exactly rainforest friendly, which was disconcerting to me after spending several days working closely with El Yunque, one of the most diverse rainforests in the world. A lot of them are also not human friendly. For instance, coffee is grown in areas where the rainforest has been cleared so that the coffee plants can get full sun. Much of the coffee produced is harvested by people who are underpaid and ill-treated, many of them children. Coffee is one of the major products that people in the first world can enjoy at an inexpensive price because of the slave labor involved in the process.

A couple weeks after Puerto Rico, I went to a huge worship gathering in Atlanta called Passion. Let me rephrase that: I joined 46,000 other college kids and leaders in overtaking downtown Atlanta, the Georgia Dome, the CNN Center, the Georgia World Conference Center, and all surrounding areas. And in case you haven't heard yet, our focus was freedom. Here's a look at the happenings:
http://268generation.com/passion2012/#!/freedom/
http://thecnnfreedomproject.blogs.cnn.com/2012/01/05/
(Sorry. They refuse to be hyperlinks. Be old school and copy paste.)

Yeah. It was awesome. But it was also heart breaking. I see things in black and white. I firmly adhere to the idea that if you aren't part of the solution, you're part of the problem. So I thought that because I wasn't consuming only fair trade products or working to rescue girls in a red light district, I was enslaving people, stealing their voice, being an oppressor. It broke me. I felt the need to act on my brokenness but didn't know what to do, which just made me feel more broken. I then made the mistake of being too down and out to do anything. Awareness of the problem didn't lead me to bold advocacy; it led me to curl up in a ball and do nothing. Not literally. I am not a cat. But I did figuratively curl up in a ball. I enslaved myself in my inability to save all 27 million. How stupid is that?

I'm trying to see shades of gray. Coffee is a social drink for me. If I stop drinking coffee, then I'm less likely to spend as much time talking with my mom, my grandparents, random new friends. But I can spring for fair trade, shade grown coffee. That's action without complete inaction. (Does that statement make sense?) I realize that I can't save all 27 million on my own. Mother Teresa once said, "If you can't feed a hundred people, then feed just one." And my beloved suitemate Megan thinks Mother Teresa is one of the greatest people ever, so I'll trust that I can just feed one or, in this case, just free one. Also, I'm not alone in trying to free people. There were 46,000 other people who collaborated to give over $3 million to freedom organizations at Passion with me. That's huge. Even huger (in Charleston, we say that word like "you-gee") is that God is also on our side. Isaiah 58:10-12 have been the driving verses behind my life since spring of my senior year in high school (I did the math just now...that's two whole years). Those verses plus some kept surfacing during Passion--on Rebecca's (my dear friend who likes kittens a lot) and my white flags, during a panel discussion with inspirational freedom advocates, in one of the main talks. God is all about some freedom.

6 No, this is the kind of fasting I want:
Free those who are wrongly imprisoned;
lighten the burden of those who work for you.
Let the oppressed go free,
and remove the chains that bind people.
7 Share your food with the hungry,
and give shelter to the homeless.
Give clothes to those who need them,
and do not hide from relatives who need your help.

8 “Then your salvation will come like the dawn,
and your wounds will quickly heal.
Your godliness will lead you forward,
and the glory of the LORD will protect you from behind.
9 Then when you call, the LORD will answer.
‘Yes, I am here,’ he will quickly reply.

“Remove the heavy yoke of oppression.
Stop pointing your finger and spreading vicious rumors!
10 Feed the hungry,
and help those in trouble.
Then your light will shine out from the darkness,
and the darkness around you will be as bright as noon.
11 The LORD will guide you continually,
giving you water when you are dry
and restoring your strength.
You will be like a well-watered garden,
like an ever-flowing spring.
12 Some of you will rebuild the deserted ruins of your cities.
Then you will be known as a rebuilder of walls
and a restorer of homes.

And if God is all for freedom, I should be, too. I found a lot of hope in the last few verses. For a while, I've loved the image of being a "well-watered garden" and an "ever-flowing spring," but I never took the time to read on. In my state of brokenness and despair for the enslaved people of this world, I needed to know that God could use me to be a "rebuilder" and a "restorer." I pray now that I will be broken enough to care, but not too broken to be effective. I want to be a rebuilder and restorer because I have been rebuilt and restored!


So now I have some questions for you:
Have you acknowledged that modern day slavery is happening? Because ignorance and indifference are not options.
Have you enslaved yourself to something?
Are you singing "Me and Bobby McGee" by Janis Joplin? If you aren't, you should be. So here you go:
Now to get that song out of your head, enjoy some All Sons and Daughters:

Adventurings in Puerto Rico

A Week in the Jungle, the Mighty Jungle

I was sick almost the entire week. A sore throat drove me to bed early every night and then a cough woke me up early, early in the mornings. I didn't mind so much. I just sat on the little porch at the Evangelical School for the Deaf where we were staying and watched as the wind rolled in off the coast and pushed the dark clouds away towards the lush mountains. And so a new day was born to the sound of Gungor (their new album "Ghosts Upon the Earth" pouring through my headphones) and a gusty breeze.

Puerto Rico: The 51st State

As I prepared with my fellow freshman and sophomore Bonners to travel to Puerto Rico for an alternative break trip, I kept asking what it meant for PR to be a US territory. No one, not even the Google Machine, could give me a satisfactory answer. The realization that, in an almost paradoxical way, PR is its own country while still being part of the United States gradually rolled over me. Alright, mystery solved for me...I doubt I could adequately explain it for anyone else. Perhaps this is mostly because you should go and uncover the answer for yourself! I fell in love with the place. It tasted strongly of plantains, Spanish, and the unique flavors that I love of Hispanic culture, but it was also oddly like home.

"Put your faith in what you most believe in."

The interesting thing about Bonner is that the only thing we all have in common is our love of service. We all believe in service, in the power of community. Other than that, we're all fairly diverse. And as far as service goes, we all have our various reasons for even doing it.
But it's what we do. We all get together and serve. On this trip, we worked at multiple service sites, which is always lots of fun. Different people shine in different places, and it's always exciting to see people shine in places that aren't necessarily in their comfort zone. We spent the first two days working at El Hogar de la Serenidad, a home for boys with substance abuse problems that is trying to get off the ground. People scraped paint off the banisters of the many balconies attached to the house, preparing them to be painted (which we did on our second day there). Others cleaned up the outside, using everything from a power washer that sounded perpetually angry to a very sharp machete, the choice of the Puerto Rican natives. I worked with a couple others on cleaning the six bathrooms. Memorable moment from that service site: I learned what a bidet was in a very close encounter while cleaning one. I'll let Wikipedia explain it for you if you're confused.

It's often hard to do what seem like menial tasks that aren't really helping people. So while we were scraping, sanding, scrubbing, and shearing, we smiled but whispered questions as to why this was so important for us to spend so much time doing. Once I read a mini devotional on a mission trip called "Mopping for Jesus." I don't remember exactly what it was about or what the scripture was that accompanied it, but I do know that it asserted that no act of service is too small. Yes, mopping may feel menial, but you can still do it for God and it won't be a waste: With all this going for us, my dear, dear friends, stand your ground. And don't hold back. Throw yourselves into the work of the Master, confident that nothing you do for him is a waste of time or effort. (1 Corinthians 15:58 MSG) I was reminded of this while I impatiently painted and had to pause to consider why I was painting. It wasn't for me. It was for God and it was for the people who would be helping the boys. How can a painted balcony or a clean bidet help boys overcome a substance abuse problem? Shoot. I didn't know, but it didn't matter because it wasn't a waste of time or effort. Later, after posing with an inflatable Santa for a group picture at the end of our time there, we discovered that to get the license they needed to really get started, they had to pass an inspection that focused heavily on an absence of chipping paint (lead hazard?) and on a generally clean atmosphere. I'd say that's proof that our service wasn't a waste for them. And our group got fun bonding moments out of it. It was an experience that made me think about the ability of a mini community within a community to overcome problems and birth fresh starts. Why aren't there more homes like that in South Carolina?

Our third day was spent painting the gate to the school where we were staying. Sorry, I don't have a moving motivation behind that task, but it was a way for us to give back to the people that so graciously let us eat, sleep, and play (yes, we played...I realize we're all 18+. So what?) at the school while the kids were on Christmas break. We battled scattered showers and emerged victorious, although perhaps with a little more paint dripped on us than we intended. The afternoon gave way to "cultural activities"...aka shopping at a strip of kioskos and exploring the Puerto Rican beach.

The next day we drove for hours into El Yunque, the tropical rainforest in PR, to work with a native named Ben on rebuilding a trail up the muddy slopes of the mountainous jungle (Is there any difference between a jungle and a rainforest? The jury is still out on that one...). It was messy work, which I loved, but some of my fellow Bonners did not. Whether or not working outside in the mud was our forte, I think we all had fun with it. I learned so much from Ben. He went to school in California to become a teacher, and even though he is working in a rainforest instead of a classroom, he still finds ways to share his wealth of information with those who are eager to learn. There was somethng very satisfying about swinging pickaxes, hailing logs, and squishing around in the mud once we could step back and see the trail we created. It was even more satisfying when we hiked the two miles up to the end of the trail to see the nests of the Puerto Rican parrots that scientists and other specialists were diligently studying. Technically we built the path for the humans, but essentially, it will help the parrots, too. And that's pretty awesome if you ask me.

When we had finished, I was sad to leave Ben and El Yunque behind. As we drove away, I couldn't help listening to this song:



"Christmas time is here..."

I didn't get to spend the first week of my Christmas vacation doing Christmasy things at home with my family. But what better way to spend that week than serving alongside my Bonner family, thinking about how much mankind needs love?

Does anyone know what Christmas is all about?
Linus asked. And we've been asking ourselves that for so long it seems... Many have decided it's not actually about presents and Santa, but instead about more permanent things like family and traditions. And even though family and traditions are very good things to have around Christmas, it's not actually about those things either. It's much bigger than that. It's about celebrating the Savior that came because mankind isn't good enough. I can't serve my way to heaven, but I can trust in the greatest Servant. And as I painted banisters, cleaned bidets, and laid a trail through the rainforest in PR, I was reminded of why I serve: We love each other because he loved us first. (1 John 4:19 NLT) Whatever I do out of love (i.e. serve), I only do it because He first showed me love and taught me how to love.