Compassion

Freedom Mourning

AJ_FlagsMy heart is broken this Fourth of July. Across the country, multitudes celebrate freedom while others remain bound by the chains of modern-day slavery. In a nation that espouses the ideals of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, this should not be. How can we claim to be a free country when thousands are trafficked on our very soil? How can we set ourselves as the model of freedom when our nation is among the top perpetrators of global human trafficking?

Our soldiers boldly sacrifice to defend our freedom, traveling thousands of miles to foreign lands to ensure our safety and security. Where are those who will rise up on behalf of the oppressed within our own country? Where are the warriors who will fight to free those captive to the injustices of human trafficking?

The war that must be waged on behalf of those enslaved cannot be won with weapons and bloodshed. It deals with minds that need to be transformed, hearts that need to be reformed. Until we change our attitudes of ignorance, apathy and indulgence the tangled web of modern trafficking will ensnare our nation, choking our life and stealing our future.

Freedom is not freedom if it comes at the expense of another’s liberty. As long as humans are bought and sold as commodities in a marketplace, we cannot continue to claim we are free. If the exercise of freedom requires the bondage of another, it is not truly freedom. As Emma Lazarus once said, “Until we are all free, we are none of us free.” Until human slavery is abolished in every form, we are all captive.

In his now famous Fourth of July speech, Frederick Douglass declared, “What, to the American slave, is your Fourth of July? I answer: a day that reveals to him, more than all other days of the year, the gross injustice and cruelty to which he is a constant victim.” Though these words were spoken in the 1800s, they’re just as true today when we consider the gross injustice of modern slavery.

“Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy.” (Proverbs 31:8-9)

Writing Freedom

Blog_PaperAndPenIt’s impossible for one person to combat all the injustices of our world, but it is possible to do something. I may not feel I have anything of significance to contribute to the needs of our day, but even if I give the little I have, I can make a difference. My hands may be empty, but when I open them I will find I have something to give.

The most powerful instrument my hands have ever held is a pen. Through it, I communicate my thoughts. Through it, I can cry out against injustice. Through it, I can write freedom.

Martin Luther once said, “If you want to change the world, pick up your pen and write.” Others have likened the pen to a mighty sword. Words have the power to turn the tides of battle.

Against the backdrop of slavery, a man of great Christian faith wrote words of freedom from slavery. His name was William Lloyd Garrison. He used the power of the press to hasten the liberation of the captives of his day, speaking words of great power in the midst of grave injustice: “Enslave the liberty of but one human being and the liberties of the world are put in peril.”

Words have power to heal or to destroy, to build up or to tear down, to bring peace or summon war. As for me, I want my words to heal, to build, and to bring peace. I want my pen to write freedom.

Love and Freedom

Beyond_LoveSetsFree

True love involves self-sacrifice, not self-gratification. It’s when we lay down our lives for the love of another that we find life that is truly life, and love that is truly love. After all these years of fruitless searching, the most complete definition of love is found in ancient words: “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.” (1 Cor 13:4-8) #50ShadesOfTrueLove

About that Day When Everyone’s Irish

What do you think of when the calendar reads March 17? The color green and three-leaf clovers? Rainbows, leprechauns, and pots of gold? Bagpipes, blarney stone, and a little thing called luck?

You might not think of slavery—of a life devastated by separation from home and family. Of a young man trapped in a foreign land, bound in chains. Or of this same man, miraculously brought to escape only to willingly return to the land that held him bound, and all for love. You may not think these things, for this is the story that often goes untold.

Where I live, St. Patrick’s Day is a festive holiday for the Irish and non-Irish alike. Green-painted people roam the streets, some with tall green hats or shamrocks springing from their heads. Thousands flock to the parade and all the after-parties, sharing a toast to the day when everyone’s Irish. Even the river goes green. But are we aware of the haunting yet heroic story behind the day?

While he is often presumed to have been Irish, Patrick was actually from what we now know as Great Britain. And while he is deemed a saint, his life was not always all that saintly. His story is tragedy turned epic.

As a teen, he was taken captive by godless men and sold into slavery. At the time, he’d vehemently rejected the faith for which he is now known, but life as a slave opened his eyes to the powerful yet loving hand of God in his life. There in Ireland—far from all he knew and loved, he found the forgiveness of God. After six years of slavery, he escaped on a ship and returned to his homeland.

A few years after his return, Patrick had a vision calling him to make the ultimate sacrifice—to leave his family, this time willingly, and to return to the people who had enslaved him. I can’t imagine what he must have felt, and how he must have wrestled. To return to those who had treated him with such cruelty, and to preach a message of love and forgiveness? Only one who knew such love and forgiveness could complete such a mission. And Patrick knew.

He knew he was no saint. He knew he needed forgiveness. And he knew that forgiveness came as a result of God’s great sacrifice for him. It was gratitude for this love that moved him to sacrifice, as well—and not for those it was easy to love. He nobly sacrificed for those who had stolen his very life. And that degree of sacrifice is the essence of true love. Can we toast to that?

Source: About that Day When Everyone’s Irish

More Than a Day Off

Blog_CivilRightsChildren_GordonParksWhile multitudes revel in a day off work, history calls. As we indulge in the glory of our pillow and comforter, our slumber unhindered by the blare of the alarm clock, something stirs. Do we hear it? Do we remember?

Today, I will enjoy a day home with my children, blessed with their ringing laughter, incessant fun, and smiles that shine with their glowing brown skin. Tomorrow, I will return to work, teaching precious children with skin of every beautiful color. I can’t imagine it any other way. And it’s all because one man had a dream.

It was hard last week to tell my classroom that there was a time when what we have wasn’t allowed. Their best friends wouldn’t be their friends. Their classmates wouldn’t be in the same building. They wouldn’t know each other. All because the color of their skin. What an ugly place, the world of segregation. What an ugly, hateful place.

It was just as difficult to tell these kids that though there’s been progress enough for us all to enjoy one another’s friendship and learn under the same roof, the world is still not the beautiful place it should be. There are still awful evils. There is still gross injustice. There is still racism and prejudice. Things that should not be with all the sacrifices made for change to come.

We live in a fallen world. And it will be as long as we live on the wrong side of heaven. I told my kids we each still need to do our part to bring the change.

And I told them we will have a day off school to celebrate a man who believed against all odds that things could change for the better.

So today is more than a day off. It’s a day to remember the darkness we’ve come from, resolving never to return. It’s a day to reflect on where we still need to change, repenting of our own sins of racism and prejudice. And it’s a day to dream, with Martin Luther King Jr., that ALL our children “will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.”

May it be on earth as it is in heaven.

Breaking the Silence

Design_BreakingtheSilenceI’ve never considered myself a violent person. Keeping the peace is among my greatest ambitions, and conflict something I endeavor to avoid as much as possible. Even if it means to remain silent.

But what if there’s violence in silence? Not the violence of weapons, but of withholding the good that would otherwise have made a difference. Of failing to use my voice to pray fervently and speak passionately, calling forth life and overcoming evil with good.

Sitting in the quiet comfort of home I think of current events and the exponential number of “pray for…” posts cropping up in the aftermath. And I have to ask myself…have I really prayed, or is it mere sentiment?

What if I truly made a habit of crying out for the peace of other countries? Of my own? Would I see so many “pray for…” posts after the fact if I prayed before the fact?

And what about words and actions? Scripture makes it clear that authentic faith is expressed not only in word, but also in deed. We’re to speak and act on behalf of justice, truth, mercy, and love. What if my prayerlessness, my silence, my inactivity has contributed to the violence of this age by failing to prevent it?

I came across this Proverb today: “One who is slack in his work is brother to one who destroys.” Ouch. That is one kind of “brother” I don’t want to be! Yet here I remain, married to my comfort zone in its false pretense of peace.

God help me to no longer be slack in my work. Free me from the violence of silence. Use me to pray forth peace, to speak life and truth, and to act with love and purpose in every opportunity you bring, for time is short.

The View, The Scorch, and a Zombie Apocalypse

Blog_TVControlRoomHave you ever wondered what it would be like to be a victim of a zombie apocalypse? Me neither, though yet another movie has emerged to depict the potential outcome of such a catastrophe. Which has me thinking. We’re not so different from these would-be victims.

Though much of our world is now wireless, how much of our days are spent connected by invisible wires to a monitor of some sort? The TV screen, the computer monitor, our cell phone display. And though we’re told by the talking heads on such monitors to think for ourselves, they’re doing an awful lot of the thinking for us. “Be original, be yourself, be unique!” they cry as the silent warning sounds that if we so much as diverge from their status quo, we will be verbally persecuted, if not worse.

A recent and now-notorious episode of The View serves as example. Nurses around the world were rightly outraged when their selfless profession was casually mocked by the talking heads on this opinion-driven platform, triggering the hashtag #nursesunite. No matter if the initial comments were a weak attempt at humor. It took this obvious untruth spoken across the airwaves to wake would-be fans to what has been reality for as long as the first TV antennas went up: not everything we hear from rich and famous self-proclaimed life-experts is…true.

We’ve lived so long in a media-induced stupor that we don’t realize how far we’ve drifted from reality until some clearly misguided statement wakes us from our near-comatose state. How long prior to #nursesunite were the screen-bound personas of The View and shows like it speaking untruths, half-truths, misguided words and emotion-driven opinions without a public outcry as the outcome? How much of our own worldview is so influenced by the media that we can’t even separate truth from opinion…from blatant lie?

#Nursesunite is not just a hashtag. It’s a wake-up call, reminding us that the people on TV are just…people. They are not gods. They are not life-experts. And we don’t owe our lives, or our brains, to them. As much as the world of monitors has become our world, we need to detach ourselves from the wireless wires and finally…think for ourselves.