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)

the Giver of Words

Blog_OpenGate

Will not the Giver of Words grant us the right words in due season to speak to the injustices of our generation, and to bring truth and life where there is deception and death? Will not the maker of the tongue loosen it to speak order into the chaos and confusion? If our heart is for the afflicted and oppressed, will he who hears their deepest cries not empower us to labor on their behalf?

 

Source: Blank Pages

Photo Credit: open gate | Flickr – Photo Sharing!

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.

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.

Where are the Heroes of Today?

Blog_NoGreaterLoveI’m struck silent as I consider statistics on child poverty, abuse, and injustice. 143 million orphans. 1 billion children worldwide living in poverty. Over 3 million children abused each year. 150 million children engaged in child labor. 400,000 children trafficked across the borders each year. Reading these facts, I lament: these children need a hero. Actually, they need heroes to rise up and become a voice in our world of injustice.

In light of the grave suffering our world’s children endure, it’s a farce that our culture would attempt to re-define heroism according to a person’s investment in their own sensual fulfillment. Really? Would we call a hero one who would spend millions in pursuit of self-gratification? Is courage now dependent on one’s commitment to self-indulgent personal happiness? Is bravery now equated to one’s ability to acquire millions for squandering on selfish fantasies?

There was a time when a hero was one who sacrificed all for the good of others. Courage came in the form of laying down one’s life for a friend. Bravery meant facing death that others could live.

Our flimsy re-definition of heroism is but a symptom of deep-rooted issues. We’ve suppressed the truth of who we are and whose we are. We’ve forgotten why we’re here. If each would live according to our greater purpose and higher calling, how much of today’s suffering would dissipate? And how quickly.

Instead, we live ignorant and bored, ever in search of the latest diversion, however costly. And we read the headlines, shake our heads at the devastation and praise the man-made-woman all the while pointing our fingers at God in blame for the suffering.

If there is suffering, it’s not because God is silent and inactive. It’s because we are. And we’ve traded the greater good for the empty cistern of selfish gain.

Victory and its Victims

Blog_HockeyDie-hard fans braved threatening weather to witness the Blackhawks face-off for another championship. Even those who care nothing for hockey were converted to temporary fandom in time for the finals. Following the victory, multitudes swarmed the streets of Chicago for one glimpse of the winning team with their coveted cup. And I could only think of one thing.

There are young girls, even boys, being trafficked in celebration of one short-lived victory.

Ever since I found out that sporting events are among the largest magnets for human trafficking rings, I can’t glimpse a fragment of a game without mourning the countless victims waiting in the wings for the after-game festivities. How can we revel in the fantasy of athletic glory when so many are living a nightmare as a result? How can we root for any team if no one is rising to fight for the slaves suffering among us?

It’s beyond tragedy that we keep silent as an estimated 9.5 billion per year flows from our country into the torture of young innocents. As our sports heroes bathe in fame, fortune, and glory, our children are led as sheep to the slaughter. We invest millions in sports mania, blind to the billions squandered on the trafficking of our future. Will we continue to stand on the sidelines, watching in silence?