It caught my attention.
It was the title of an article published on Sojouners today. The link arrived in my inbox today at 1:09pm and I promptly clicked it (to remove the annoying bold type of new messages) and closed my email window. I was too busy reading other blogs, a great book, editing my resume, and planning my weekend to be interrupted with Sojo's daily news.
5:42pm. After a little aim chatting with Kendra about her week at camp and my less exciting week at home, she sends me the link to the same article. So I read the first sentence, let out a highly refined "WOOOOO" (via aim of course), and continue chatting about blogs and weekend plans.
5:54. I sit down to read the article. I'm inspired, excited, and sort of floored to hear how much money this guy's church has raised to fight trafficking. Good grief. I'm struggling to get the 4k I need for the summer...and he pulls together 332 in donations by screening a few movies? Impressive.
Part of me is yelling with him. Where is the church? Why are we so passive in a world of such blatant injustice? When did we become these shells of people, devoid of real emotion, satisfied with clean and shiny things we can buy with a debit card?
5:56. I get a little bored, skip over the film clip, skim over the story, get to the end of the article and smile when I recognize all but one of the organizations listed. I send the link of the new organization to another tab in my safari, open it, see they're looking for interns, get a little adrenaline rush, remember I have summer plans, see a facebook link, join a cause, invite some friends, click back to the article, get annoyed by all the ads on the sides of the screen - or maybe they're not ads - but they're overwhelming, check my facebook, and close my computer.
6:06. Fix my hair, wash my face, and get ready to go out later.
6:15. Sat down outside with the twins to read more of a great book, The New Friars.
Read about Jesus being born the child of a scandalous relationship in hickville to create 'solidarity' among those he would one day serve.
Feel too privileged.
Read about Heather Coaster, missionary to poor in Bolivia, particularly women in the sex industry. Hear her struggle.
And finally, I snapped out of it. It being this disgusting state of ease - contented with my contrived goodness, my assumption that I understand and have something to offer, because after all, I'm this girl who's had opportunity in the suburbs in the wealthiest nation in the world.
Well. I don't know jack.
So this is a long quote, but it's worth reading and it more aptly captures the state of my heart that any of my words can today. She writes about our efforts and attempts to make a dent in this injustice of human trafficking.
- "It's such a convenient conversation. Sure, it strikes me. I read the staggering numbers, attach the unfathomable data to a story just to make it personal, and the somatic injustice rises up in my throat or turns in my stomach or threatens to keep me from sleep. There's a reminder again that things are not the way they're supposed to be, that all is not quite right. I am bothered by a sense somewhere between restlessness and calling. So I write essays and maybe even checks and I think about writing a letter to my Senator. Over a drink I discuss the theological, social and economic roots and implications. I pride myself in being aware. I appease my social conscience, thinking that my conversations and benefit dinners are all contributing to some global solution.
- "And maybe they are. God, I pray that they are. And I keep eating. I even end in dessert. I close the book, but a The End on the story, toss it all aside, pull the sheets back and climb into bed. There's not much more I can do, not tonight. And lucky for me, I don't have to. I have the unfathomable luxury of walking away, of signing off, of saying goodnight. While my conversations are coming to very neat, concise closes, she's tucking her kids in, putting her shoes on and taking the rest off. The red glow of her night is on and she's tossed from one set of dirty hands to another. There are rules in place, rules against going without protection, rules against sexual violence. But once her door is closed, the only rule is his desire. She only knows that tomorrow her kids will again be hungry, and this is the cost of her love for them. Yes, it matters today. It matters tonight, because there are still six hours until morning. And while we can afford those six hours, she cannot.
- "If all I have to offer her is conversation, awareness, words, then yes, I will give the rest of my life to the talk. But it's not. It can't be. It's not all I have and it's not enough."
And so now it's 12:50am. And I need you to know I don't have the answers. But I'd rather have love than answers. Every fiber of my being revolts against the ill-logic of that sentence - love? Does love feed or rescue or equip or change social structures? But see, I so easily forget how this God of love has rescued and equipped and fed me and is graciously using me to bring his kingdom to our world by the power of his gospel.
I don't think that condemning human trafficking to hell is what God is asking me to do. I don't even think he wants me to get a lot of people really fired up about this injustice. Yep, you heard it here first. Julianne isn't on a crusade to make people angry or passionate about the great tyranny of the world.
But
God is justice. So my life is oriented towards a pursuit of justice because I am in a relationship with this God. As I love and dwell with justice, I can honor and worship God. Really, it has little to do with injustice. Injustice is a consequence of sin. Human life is a consequence of the creativity and love of a most holy and good God!
Praise God that I need not be oriented towards hell.
To heaven be glory. To earth with justice!
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