Lessons Learned from the Poor

An excerpt from a book I'm reading for class:
     "Liberal theology, like its nemesis in the evangelical church, is a form of self-exaltation.  While evangelicals often champion a gospel of greed and personal empowerment, deeply attractive to the poor and marginal, liberals often speak on behalf of oppressed groups they never meet, advocating utopian and unrealistic schemes to bring about peace and universal love.  Neither group has much interest in testing their ideologies against reality.  
      
      The lectures I sat through in divinity school about oppression, liberation theology and the just-war theory were safely distant fro the sordid realities we discussed.  These discussions were an intellectual shell game, intriguing, even interesting, but finally meaningless without the visceral experience of the world.


     The first time I saw a human being die in combat rendered hollow the platitudes about proper and improper uses of violence.  I was no longer able to ask the question.


      I was traveling north early one morning during the war in El Salvador on the Troncal highway to the Chaletenango province.  Outside of the town of Aguilares I came upon several cars that had stopped before an open stretch of pavement.  I heard intense bursts of gunfire up ahead, and then all went quiet.  


     I cautiously went forward by foot.  When I neared the opening I saw a young soldier lying in the road with two dull black M-16s on either side of him.  A few yards ahead, people were climbing onto an overcrowded bus.  


      The rebels had stopped the bus to collect "war taxes" when a pickup full of soldiers had sped past.  The two groups had fired on each other.  One soldier, who lay a few feet from me, had been shot through the back of the head.  Another had been wounded.  The truck had raced to the nearest army outpost and the rebels had disappeared in the bush.  The bus driver, fearful of another clash, was shouting at his passengers to get back on board.  The army would probably return soon and more fighting would follow. 


      I knelt down by the soldier, who could have been no more than 16.  He was slowly curling himself into a fetal position.  Blood came from his nose and the small bullet wound in the back of his head.  A woman at the side of the road was watching in tears.  


     "Do you know him?"  I asked.


     She shook her head in the negative.  I watched him die, far from his family and friends, an insignificant casualty in a war of "liberation."


     What could any "new society," one many liberal Christians back, ever mean to the family of this boy?


     Can we really accept that 16-year-old soldiers, press-ganged into the military, are a regrettable sacrifice in the progression toward a new world of the Kingdom of God?  I can accept his death as tragic and inevitable, given the social and historical antecedents leading up to the insurrection, but not as necessary.  Idols, not God, require sacrifices.  In his death I saw through the awful tragedy that is war, the inevitable sadness of it and the glib ways we can speak about experiences that are not our own.  


     Christian groups played an active role in supporting sides in the violent civil wars.  I saw the hypocrisy of liberals and evangelicals in Central America, each of whom chose sides and justified violence in the name of God.  Pat Robertson traveled to camps in Honduras to support the contra bands, funded and backed by the United States, who were attacking Nicaragua.  Many liberal religious leaders embrace the Sandinista government or the Salvadoran rebels.  To bless weapons and soldiers, something I once watched a Catholic bishop do at a military base in Guatemala, is to put faith in the idol of war, in the service of death.  It is, perhaps, the most common and destructive form of idolatry, one that has left more religious institutions morally bankrupt.


     The scene on the highway is seared in my consciousness.  I see the bright, glaring sunlight.  I see the boy dying on the road.  I hear the rumbling of the diesel bus.  I listen to the harried shouts of the driver.  God was there, I know now, But not to bless either side.  The tears of the sobbing woman were the tears of God.


     Idols consume us.  Only the small, mundane acts of life, of kindness for neighbors and friends and family, can save us.  Mothers and fathers, who have put their own careers on hold, know this power, however hard it is to lose the identity and status that come with work.  Those who stop to care for a sick or disabled relative know this.  Sacrifice gives us life.  It frees us from idols.  But we must accept that such sacrifice can be hard and lonely.  Sacrifice for others gives life and makes community possible.  Sacrifice for our idols leaves us with hollow, empty lives.


     Not institution or cause will remember or reward us for the sacrifices we make.  There are no shortages of lives wrecked by idols.  Those who spend their finals years waiting forlornly for a call from children they never bothered to know because they were too busy building careers, must peer into the empty face of the idol they worshipped.  Idols, when they finish with us, discard us.  They keep us from God."


p. 48-50, Losing Moses on the Freeway by Chris Hedges


As wealthy, comfortable Americans, we don't need much.  We have the luxury of bantering about philosophical ideas, contemplating meaning, allowing our lives to be consumed with life-sucking idols.... idols that distract us from each other and from God.  We even have the luxury of figuring out how to take advantage of others for our own good.  We have this luxury because we haven't suffered.  We have time to discuss silly ideas because we haven't experienced reality.  We've lived so cushioned by lies our government and media continually feed us.  


I suppose that's why, despite the poverty and despair, I found more life in a 3rd world country than I do in the land of the free.  They understand suffering, despair, loss, pain.  But they also understand the need for God.  The need for love, for life, for relationship, for each other.  They recognize that without each other to suffer through the trials with and rejoice in the good times, life means nothing.  They don't have the luxury to cast people off for materials, jobs, money, and power.  


Those people I met this summer humiliated me and touched me in a powerful way.  They understood what so many us take advantage of.  They understood the power of love.  The remained faithful through trials.  They weren't people easily tossed by winds of chaos and destruction.  They knew where their center lied....where their hope and faith lied.  They choose love.  

Conviction

I wrote the following essay for my Writers II class and thought I'd share.  The past year or so of my life, those of you who are close to me know of one thing that really drives me - the treatment of women and children.  On a large scale, my heart breaks at the use of girls around the world and the reality of millions who are in sexual bondage.  Although the complexity of this issue is far too vast to address in a short blog, I remain convicted that the image society, specifically American culture, has created and the value they've robbed from women has a hand in even the global "epidemic" of sexual slavery.

P.S. - forgive the bluntness of it.  I apologize if some of the wording is offensive to you.  The assignment was to write about something that convicted us... with a preface of the poem/spoken word by Taylor Mali in which he addresses the lack of substance, conviction, and even personal opinion people speak with today.  These are my thoughts and my opinions - admittedly raging with emotion and passion.  :)

Here is the link for the spoken word if you'd like to hear it.  It's funny in a sad sort of way.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OEBZkWkkdZA

Brittany Girton

Writer’s II

Assignment #1

01/12/12

Assignment #1 – Conviction Essay

            Advocating for oppressed women and children is a trendy topic in America.  This kind of advocacy popularly leads to addressing the issue of sexual slavery and the circumstances that often lead to this kind of oppression.  This seems quite ironic coming from a country that oppresses its women in shrewd and appalling ways.  While the empire of America and the issues we are faced with can hardly, if at all, be related to these impoverished third world countries, I am convinced that society and media has done great harm and committed unforgivable crimes against our young girls – the effects even reaching and contributing in some ways to the image and value of women globally. 

            As I walk through the mall or flip through magazines, I’m appalled by the images of half-naked women plastered everywhere.  Victoria’s Secret isn’t hesitate to disclose to the world not only a degrading and revealing picture of what women have become, but also a false one that infects the minds of boys and girls, men and women.  Billboard ads and TV ads consistently bombard us with thousands of products, procedures, and programs to ensure a woman looks her best, while coupling those ads with more pictures to ensure a woman is never satisfied.  Then, the seemingly free use of women’s bodies on the big screen is incredibly offensive.  From reality TV shows to box office hits, every aspect of media seems to have a hand in infecting society with harmful ways to view, value, and respect women. 

            As I get older, I have begun to discern the differences in men and women and how crucial and wonderful these differences are according to the way God created us.  Through my experiences and continual maturation, I have come to understand the nature of a woman’s heart – a wonderfully unashamed and humble servant’s heart.  Unashamed in that she will, without question, put another’s need before her own.  Women naturally love with a kind of selfless love that echoes the motherly characteristics God instilled in all women.  This type of devotion and love must be protected and respected.  Yet my heart breaks at the way society chooses to manipulate this vulnerability of women, and men choose to be predators instead of protectors. 

            The most heartbreaking, however, is the way society continues to attack the younger generations.  There is no filter or protection for the innocent and curious minds of young girls.  This lack of protection is apparent in the growing rate of teen and even pre-teen sexual activity and pregnancies.  Girls, having been tutored by these images and the overall treatment of women, conform to what they believe is expected and wanted from them.  They have nothing to derive their value from expect for what the media offers and what men tell them.

            A good father can do his best in protecting his young daughter from this mindset, but this seems to be the minority, as society and the ancient desire for power tutors even the men in the way they should value and treat women.  And even with the presence of a strong and protective father, as soon as that young girl comes out from under her father or is inevitably influenced by the invasiveness of this kind of thought, she becomes jaded by it.  By junior high, her pants are getting tighter, her shirts more revealing, and her make-up more seductive.  In high school, Halloween becomes cool again as she discovers costumes other than princesses, fairies, and witches. 

            Her innocence is stolen to make an extra buck; she has become a commodity.  And this is the great country in which we live – where people are enslaved by this consumer-driven society where women are taken advantage of for the sake of getting ahead or fulfilling lustful desires.  Our culture has infected the world with this selfish way to live in greedy entitlement to all things; a way that derives value from things and use from people.   

            The powerful, heartless men hold the ability to control women in their hands.  They know the intimate and pure desires of a woman’s heart and have mastered the art of manipulating those desires to fulfill their own desires – both lustful and greedy.  So this is how our culture has infected both American girls and girls around the world.  Men have the power to control the way women dress, act, and even think.  There exists no moral conviction or shame in treating women as objects for both financial gain and sexual fulfillment.  Thousands of girls are trafficked across hundreds of borders everyday with seeming ease and there exists virtually no enforcement and no protection.  And why would there be?  The American Empire shows the world an excusable way to treat women that is a benefit to the powerful.  Women are expendable and their value is held only in their ability to please men in a variety of ways. 

            Their voice is silenced, their innocence stolen, their beauty tarnished, and their value diminished.  My heart breaks as beautiful women and innocent girls with the potential to bring so much life and beauty to the world are broken by the evils of this world.  I hate that potential mothers, daughters, and sisters are treated as objects of sex and seen as potential for gain. 

            Although American girls aren’t sexual slaves in literal bondage, they are oppressed in the sense that our culture suffocates their ability to blossom into daughters of God.  As a result, our society is dying, and the evidence is great.  Biblically, the health of a society has much to do with the health of its women.  Yet the life is being sucked out of our women.  All that makes them beautiful, wonderful, unique, and usable by God has been raped from them.  Even the most physically detrimental and heartbreaking kinds of oppression and enslavement don’t overshadow this invisible oppression because of its tight grip on the minds of the vulnerable, whom society has chosen to manipulate rather than protect.

Falling in Love in the New Year

I spent the first night of the New Year with my family here in TN...having dinner together, catching up with each other, worshipping, and being encouraged by the word.  Despite being sick for the past 2 weeks and only having energy to sleep for the past couple of days, I felt so alive tonight.  My heart was full of joy and hope.

One of the songs we sang was One Day by Matisyahu:


sometimes I lay
under the moon
and thank God I'm breathing
then I pray
don't take me soon
cause I am here for a reason


sometimes in my tears I drown
but I never let it get me down
so when negativity surrounds
I know some day it'll all turn around
because


all my life I've been waiting for
I've been praying for
for the people to say
that we don't wanna fight no more
they'll be no more wars
and our children will play
one day x6


it's not about
win or lose cause
we all lose
when they feed on the souls of the innocent
blood drenched pavement
keep on moving though the waters stay raging
in this maze you can lose your way (your way)
it might drive you crazy but don't let it faze you no way (no way)


sometimes in my tears I drown
but I never let it get me down
so when negativity surrounds
I know some day it'll all turn around
because


all my life I've been waiting for
I've been praying for
for the people to say
that we don't wanna fight no more
they'll be no more wars
and our children will play
one day x6


one day this all will change
treat people the same
stop with the violence
down with the hate
one day we'll all be free
and proud to be
under the same sun
singing songs of freedom like
one day x4


all my life I've been waiting for
I've been praying for
for the people to say
that we don't wanna fight no more
they'll be no more wars
and our children will play
one day x6


Go ahead and listen to it, too.... 


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kS9uTiEY9ag&feature=endscreen&NR=1


Despite my froggy throat, I was singing as loud as I could... eyes closed and hands clasped in front of me as I saw in my head pictures of one day when my children play with children of a different race, color, and culture.  Playing with children who actually have the energy to play because they get to eat and aren't sick because they have shoes, clothes, and clean water.  I envisioned that one day when I'm joining hands with people, living amongst my brothers and sisters united by the same love and hope for a bright future.  


I'm so filled with hope this year.  I'm surrounded by a group of people who are filled with this same hope and same willingness to follow Jesus into the homes of the broken and I'm so thankful.  


In our Bible Study, we talked about the darkness of experiencing this world alone.  For people who choose to ignore the suffering and pursue power..."one person who has no other, either son or brother, yet there is no end to all his toil, and his eyes are never satisfied with riches, so that he never asks, "For whom am I toiling and depriving myself of pleasure?" This also is vanity and an unhappy business." Eccl. 4:8. Or for people who attempt to take on the burdens by themselves, they also will experience a lonely ending.  


But friendships are what we hold dear to our heart.  In John 15, Jesus says, "Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends."  Going through this text tonight, I realized I'm falling in love with Jesus in a whole new way.  Eccl 4:2-3 says, "and I thought the dead who are already dead more fortunate than the living who are still alive.  But better than both is he who has not yet been and has not seen the evil deeds that are done under the sun."  


What a dark picture.  But Jesus changes all of that.  Through friendships, we can carry the burdens but also the hope to light up the darkness, bring order to chaos, and love that frees the suffering and oppressed.  Jesus did it alone, but he promised us that he will always be with us.  And as I looked around at a room full of people I'm growing to love so incredibly much, I'm so energized rather than burdened by this vocation in which I've chosen to partner with God in.  I'm energized because I won't be alone, but I'll be working alongside my family - using our unique strengths to work together as a body to represent Christ in the world.  The Christ who was concerned about friendships... friendships with people he loved so much he'd lay his life down for.  


What better way to live... and what better way to die.  To have such purpose and to be filled with so much love. 
For some strange reason, I've always been intensely afraid that I will be alone.  I'm so filled with gratitude to be amongst such a family and know I will never be alone, but have finally found a group of people who share the same heart as me... who are heavy with the pain the world endures, but filled with hope for "one day when there are no more wars, and our children will play, one day"... and who love and believe in Jesus so much they've chosen to FOLLOW him...and actually LIVE out the gospel.  


I'm falling in love with Jesus and I'm falling in love with my family here in Tennessee.  What better way to ring in the New Year?