SheLoves Magazine

Let Us Be Women Who Love

[Archives]

Join us online today by watching LifeWomen conference here live. Last night, we read out the SheLoves Manifesto together in a room with about 400 women. Talk about a Roar! We thought it would be a good idea to repost our Manifesto again today.

[Download LET US BE WOMEN WHO LOVE as a PDF version.]

By Idelette McVicker | Twitter: @idelette

Let us be women who Love.

Let us be women willing to lay down our sword words, our sharp looks, our ignorant silence and towering stance and fill the earth now with extravagant Love.

Let us be women who Love.

Let us be women who make room.

Let us be women who open our arms and invite others into an honest, spacious, glorious embrace.

Let us be women who carry each other.

Let us be women who give from what we have.

Let us be women who leap to do the difficult things, the unexpected things and the necessary things.

Let us be women who live for Peace.

Let us be women who breathe Hope.

Let us be women who create beauty.

Let us be women who Love.

Let us be a sanctuary where God may dwell.

Let us be a garden for tender souls.

Let us be a table where others may feast on the goodness of God.

Let us be a womb for Life to grow.

Let us be women who Love.

Let us rise to the questions of our time.

Let us speak to the injustices in our world.

Let us move the mountains of fear and intimidation.

Let us shout down the walls that separate and divide.

Let us fill the earth with the fragrance of Love.

Let us be women who Love.

Let us listen for those who have been silenced.

Let us honour those who have been devalued.

Let us say, Enough! with abuse, abandonment, diminishing and hiding.

Let us not rest until every person is free and equal.

Let us be women who Love.

Let us be women who are savvy, smart and wise.

Let us be women who shine with the light of God in us.

Let us be women who take courage and sing the song in our hearts.

Let us be women who say, Yes to the beautiful, unique purpose seeded in our souls.

Let us be women who call out the song in another’s heart.

Let us be women who teach our children to do the same.

Let us be women who Love.

Let us be women who Love, in spite of fear.

Let us be women who Love, in spite of our stories.

Let us be women who Love loudly, beautifully, Divinely.

Let us be women who Love.

______________________________________

About Idelette:

I like soggy cereal and I would like to go to every spot on the map of the earth to meet our world’s women.

I dream of a world where no women or girls are for sale. I dream of a world where women and men are partners in doing the work that brings down a new Heaven on earth.

My word for the year is “Roar,” but I have learned it’s not about my voice rising as much as it is about our collective voices rising in unison to bring down walls of injustice.

I have three children and this place–right here, called shelovesmagazine.com–is my fourth baby. I am African, although my skin colour doesn’t tell you that story. I am also a little bit Chinese, because my heart lives there amongst the tall skyscrapers of Taipei and the mountains of Chiufen. Give me sweet chai and I think I’m in heaven. I live in Vancouver, Canada and I pledged my heart to Scott 11 years ago.

I believe in kindness and calling out the song in each other’s hearts. I also believe that Love covers–my gaps, my mistakes and the distances between us. I blog at idelette.com and tweet@idelette.

Down We Go: Pursuing Justice

“When we are silent, we stand on the side of the oppressor.”–Gandhi

By Kathy Escobar | Twitter: @kathyescobar

At the heart of justice is the fundamental assumption of human dignity. Each human being bears the image of God and has inherent value. When that dignity is stripped, ignored or oppressed, there is injustice.

As we engage downward mobility and follow Jesus to the kinds of places he tended to go, life begins to magnify issues of justice. Eyes become open, hearts begin to feel and anger begins to stir on behalf of the marginalized, oppressed and victims of injustice. Part of our responsibility as Christ-followers is to pursue justice on behalf of those who are being treated unjustly—to risk our hearts, time, money and position and stand up for the underdog, however we can.

“And what does the Lord require of you?
To act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.” - Micah 6:8

Pursuing justice begins with listening and trying to understand each other.

Friends

At The Refuge, my faith community, we facilitated a series of conversations on justice. One of the panels had a mix of people who were marginalized, oppressed, or treated poorly for one reason or another—a single mom, a parent with a disabled child, a Latina, and a friend who is gay.

As each of my friends shared, I was struck by the power of their stories. Even though I know them all personally and have heard their struggles and circumstances, as I listened, I was reminded in a much deeper way what day-to-day life is really like for them. It’s not easy. Every day they experience injustice: shame, struggle, and being treated as “less than” is part of their ordinary experience. And they all live in the United States. We know it’s far worse in other places.

Without listening, understanding and actually knowing each other, we will be unable to move toward restoration together. It’s why we desperately need a mix of diverse people from various walks of life, experiences, theologies, socio-economic backgrounds, political views, colors, shapes and sizes all in the same room, at the same table, engaging each other in our churches, communities, neighborhoods and groups.

Relationship transforms understanding.

And as we understand, we realize we can’t stay silent.

Gandhi said, “When we are silent we, stand on the side of the oppressor.” Silence is not neutral. In fact, silence empowers injustice. Speaking up doesn’t solve every problem, but it is the way to start pursuing justice.

When we allow our brothers and sisters to have their dignity stripped, to be constantly silenced and pushed down, we allow them to be oppressed. When we see discrimination because of race, class, or gender, and do nothing, it means we are actually agreeing with the system that oppresses them.

The downward journey opens our eyes to a world that we will no longer be able to ignore. When it’s our friends who we eat with, share life with, and really know that are being oppressed, we cannot stay silent.

Speaking Up

A few years ago one of my friends was doing her laundry at my house while we had company. Sonia happens to be gay and The Refuge is the first church she’s been part of since coming out. An old friend brought a guy she was dating over for dinner. Sonia was quietly doing her laundry in the other room while we were hanging out in the kitchen. The date happened to hold very conservative views about church and life, somehow making the assumption that we naturally agreed with him since we were Christians. I was trying extra hard to be kind, but my husband was a little worried about the direction the conversation was going, shooting me that pleading look of,“Kathy, please honey, let it go. The night’s almost over.” I was sincerely trying!

However, when my friend’s date started in on homosexuality, the dam broke. I couldn’t bear that Sonia was in the other room and might be overhearing this conversation. I strongly interrupted him, “You are talking about some of my friends and it really bothers me. It’s easy to sit in your seat and be really sure you’re ‘right.’ Things change when it’s your friend, someone you love, someone who loves you, too.” He was a little shocked. And I was thankful I didn’t take the easy way out. I needed for Sonia to know we would never leave her hanging.

After they left, Jose and I had a long conversation with her. She didn’t hear his comment, thankfully, but was grateful we stuck up for her. It was a very tiny way we could stand on her behalf, but a lot of tiny ways add up to a lot of change over time.

When we are truly friends with the marginalized and oppressed, we can’t stay silent.

And we can’t truly be friends until we listen and try to understand each other.

That’s where pursuing justice starts.

God, show us how to be brave pursuers of justice,

to listen and understand our friends

and then use our voice, hearts, time and resources on their behalf. 

_________________________

About Kathy:
Kathy Escobar co-pastors The Refuge, an eclectic faith community in North Denver dedicated to those on the margins of life and faith. She blogs regularly about life and faith at www.kathyescobar.com and recently released her book called, Down We Go–Living out the Wild Ways of Jesus in Action. She lives in Arvada, Colorado with her husband, Jose, and five kids.

I Bear Witness

“If all of us acted in unison as I act individually, there would be no wars and no poverty. I have made myself personally responsible for the fate of every human being who has come my way.” -Anais Nin 

By Desiree Adaway | Twitter: @desireeadaway

As a kid, I was told the real power of the crucifixion of Christ was not that it happened, but that there were people to bear witness to the act. People saw and were able to deliver first-hand their testimony.

I testify to change hearts and minds.

I travel the world, because I believe in the power of connection and community. I believe in the beauty of humanity and the gift of mercy. I travel to help strip bare the man-made constraints of culture and language and all the other social barriers we have created to keep us apart.

I travel so I can testify.

To deliver a testimony.

I am a connector. I help connect people, ideas, and organizations. I am a builder of community and the foundation of my building is based on the rock of social justice. As I share my thoughts on social justice and some of my personal beliefs on community, I hope, in turn, you will share your thoughts with me.

I believe God’s love for the world is an active and engaged love, a love seeking justice and liberty for all.  I believe we cannot just be observers to pain and suffering, because I believe in the inherent dignity and value of all humans. So I testify:

If my sister in Angola is not safe, then we are all responsible.

Every child that goes to bed hungry, whether across the world or up the street, is my child.

And my child deserves dignity and honor. My sister deserves to be seen, loved, acknowledged and cared for.

So I bear witness. I bear witness to confirm the right of persons and peoples to determine their own destiny and daily lives; to live in peace and security; and to flourish in freedom. We all have the right to live in a safe and secure place. Freedom is our divine right. We all should be free to move beyond past limitations and become all we were created to be.

I cannot be of service to people whom I am separate from physically or mentally. I can have no degrees of separation–we are one community. We must build and maintain our community together and make our brothers’ and sisters’ problems our problems, and to solve them together.

We must work together to conceive and build the good community, society and world we want and deserve to live in. Robert Ingersoll says we should give to every human being every right that we claim for ourselves. I could not have said it better.

In a real community, no one is invisible or unworthy. Not my child nor my sister. So I bear witness to make sure they are seen and heard.

______________________________

How about you:

• Do you bear witness to another’s suffering? Do you testify of their struggle?
• Do you believe that giving voice to another’s struggle promotes global freedom and community?
• What are your thoughts on the pursuit of social justice?

______________________________

About Desiree:

Desiree is a consultant, strategist, coach, speaker, storyteller and explorer.  She uses her superpowers–her voice, sense of adventure and belief in the transformative power of community–to help organizations design programs that create unrestricted revenue, volunteers and advocates.

You can find out more about her at www.desireeadaway.com, or follow her on Twitter at @desireeadaway

Photo credit: Hands, by xlordashx

Bald Solidarity

“We think making a difference begins with making a statement. A bold one.”–Beth Roberts, Bald Solidarity

By Sarah E. Richardson | Twitter: @sarsrichardson

I was taking photos at a benefit concert the first time I heard Beth Roberts talk about shaving her head to fight injustice. She had long blonde hair and the most sincere smile I had ever seen.

Beth was sharing the vision for Bald Solidarity, a Seattle-based non-profit organization committed to ending injustice for women around the world through fundraising and social advocacy. She spoke of her time as a teacher in Bangladesh. She spoke of girls sold into slavery and given to marriages they never wanted. She told of widows left on the streets with nothing because they no longer had value. Then she talked about women in the Western world—so obsessed with beauty and appearance, so tortured by trivial decisions like haircuts and lipstick.

She said something that day that changed me:

“Hair is just a marker of our identity, and giving it up is our way of choosing to support women around the world who don’t have much choice at all. We think making a difference begins with making a statement. A bold one.”

I was hooked.

I stared at Beth, camera forgotten by my side, and wondered how I could ever shave my head willingly, yet also knowing that I was definitely going to do it.

Then it hit me—it came down to a simple choice: my hair or my voice. So I chose my voice.

Sure, shaving my head was terrifying, but I knew Beth was on to something. I could support the cause with my money and walk away unchanged, or I could support the cause with my hair and never be the same again.

The first time I shaved my head we raised more than $2,500 for a local organization fighting human trafficking. It was November and my head was freezing.

Inner Wonders

Everything changed that day. That was the day I realized the wonders inside of me were so much more important than what was on the outside. I’ve always known God had a better grasp on who I really was, because my heart mattered so much more to Him than my hair did (or my clothes, or my car, or my cell phone). But for the first time in my life I could see it too.

I felt beautiful and empowered—it no longer mattered that I was the single girl with the crooked teeth and love-handles who sang a little too loud in church, because now I was the bald girl—a little crazy in a good way.

I’ve shaved for Bald Solidarity twice and I know I am likely to do it again, because if I ever have a daughter I want to look her in the face and say, “Baby, we fight for what we believe in and we look out for others even when they live on the other side of the world.”

____________________

About Sarah:

I’m more likely to answer to Sars than Sarah. That’s because years ago my brothers started calling me Sars and, as the name implies, it was infectious. I’m a visual journalism grad from Western Washington University and a self-proclaimed writer-photographer-Jesus-lover-painter-adventurer-foodie. I have a near obsession with ending injustice and I’m a sucker for a good cause.

I blog at sometimesscreaminghelps.com and tweet at @sarsrichardson

No Eenie Meenie In My Mouth

“Bottom line, we don’t realize how much we don’t realize and we should be very humble in our place in the world and within our culture.” –Ken Wytsma, Founder, The Justice Conference

By Idelette McVicker | Twitter: @idelette

I am from bobotie and milktart and the southernmost tip of Africa.

In primary school I earned A’s learning the names of Portuguese traders like Bartolomeu Dias who sailed around that Cabo de Boa Esperanza–the Cape of Good Hope–for the first time and Vasco da Gama who first reached India via Africa.

What I didn’t learn was the name of a man or a woman bought and sold as slaves by traders at Portuguese outposts, like the castle at Elmina on the Gold Coast of Africa.

Until recently, these stories were all separate in my head.

Until recently, I also didn’t know that a simple nursery rhyme is part of perpetuating this horrific past.

This Is Not It

When I attended the Justice Conference in Portland last month, I listened as Ken Wytsma, founder of the conference, unpacked the concept of “justice.”

He demonstrated just how insidious injustice could be by telling us a story. In November 2011, Ken traveled to Cape Coast, Ghana, to research the Trans-Atlantic Slave trade and also film a media project with poet Micah Bournes. While there, Ken spoke to a local scholar who had received his PhD in History in England on the slave trade. He asked for evidence of the widespread gender violence … and if anything was in writing.

That’s when he heard about a song that popped up in Portuguese diaries of the time, a song used by traders to pick a woman for the night.

Where the song ended, determined which woman was selected for the night. The scholar then began to sing it in his heavy accent:

“Eenie Meenie Mini Moe …”

Hearing these words, even in a crowd of 4,000 people, hit me like a machete in my stomach.

How have I missed this? How have I perpetuated this?

While Elmina castle is infamous for the buying and selling of slave souls, somehow I’ve missed this other story happening on the sidelines of the slave horror: The story of prostituted women lined up to serve the slave traders’ sexual whims.

Women marginalized even in the margins.

Now that I know, I hear the echo of this counting-out rhyme in my head as words streaming out of Portuguese buyers’ mouths. Men counting out to determine a woman’s fate.

Now I hear these words, thick as rope, woven around the women, tying them to a destiny of diminishment.

I am not ignorant to the power of words to tie up and enslave.

I know the teeth that can sink into vowels and consonants. I am not ignorant to the degradation that can be embedded and perpetuated down the generations. This very rhyme also has thick ugly racist connotations; so much so that in 2003 two passengers sued Southwest Airlines for emotional distress when a steward jokingly employed the rhyme to encourage passengers to find a seat.

But what if I didn’t know before?

I’ve been wondering whether we can we perpetuate the evil, even in our unknowing? Does not knowing and saying the words, carry on the diminishing?

I don’t know, but it makes me sick that I didn’t know. That this story could be so veiled to my seeing and my hearing.

It makes me sick that too many of us still don’t know.

This one thing I do know: Now that I know how these words were formed in the mouths of abusers, these words will not be spoken in my home or in my presence. I will do my utmost to educate and stop the lineage of injustice through these words wherever I can.

Structural Injustice

“My point in telling the story was the structural injustices that can so easily crop up in our life,” Ken Wytsma told me in a message. “I can grow up and sing an innocent rhyme while playing, without realizing the long history that taints the same rhyme for different people … Something can be harmless to me, but harmful to others. Bottom line, we don’t realize how much we don’t realize and we should be very humble in our place in the world and within our culture.”

_____________________________

Editor’s note:

• Sunday, March 25, 2012 was observed as the fifth International Day of Remembrance of the Victims of the Transatlantic Slave Trade and is celebrated at the UN all of this week.
• Historians estimate 28 million Africans were violently removed and cast into slavery, mainly in colonies in North America, South America and the West Indies.
• Listen to an excerpt from a UN Radio interview with Prof. Naana Jane Opoku Agyemang, Vice Chancellor of the University of Cape Coast in Ghana, about the transatlantic slave trade.

_________________________________

My dear SheLoves friends, I would love to hear your response:

• Did you know this dark echo in the story of this counting-out rhyme?
• Do you think it matters if we don’t know? Do you perpetuate the injustice, or not?
• Now that you know, what will you do?
• Any other thoughts or comments?

________________________________________

About Idelette:

I like soggy cereal and I would like to go to every spot on the map of the earth to meet our world’s women.

I dream of a world where no women or girls are for sale. I dream of a world where women and men are partners in doing the work that brings down a new Heaven on earth.

My word for the year is “Roar,” but I have learned it’s not about my voice rising as much as it is about our collective voices rising in unison to bring down walls of injustice.

I have three children and this place–right here, called shelovesmagazine.com–is my fourth baby. I am African, although my skin colour doesn’t tell you that story. I am also a little bit Chinese, because my heart lives there amongst the tall skyscrapers of Taipei and the mountains of Chiufen. Give me sweet chai and I think I’m in heaven. I live in Vancouver, Canada and I pledged my heart to Scott 11 years ago.

I believe in kindness and calling out the song in each other’s hearts. I also believe that Love covers–my gaps, my mistakes and the distances between us. I blog at idelette.com and tweet@idelette.

Image credit: Woman (Mbororo) in Foumban, Cameroon. Originally published 1919.

Sudanese Refugee Boys Sing for Justice: Called Me Out

“Stop the hate and the evil in the world …” –Chakuen Chucks & Youah Mut, Called Me Out

By Jacynta Pittaway

Kony 2012. As this phenomenon sweeps the online world and in turn the world in general, I can’t help but feel an overwhelming urge to jump on the bandwagon with everything I’ve got.

My name is Jacynta. I’m currently living in Berwick, Australia. Under a year ago I started working, through the Salvation Army, with youth from South Sudan and their parent (or parents) who brought them to Australia as refugees from their war-ravaged homes. They are the ones picking up the pieces of years of LRA intimidation and violence.

Where I work, we have contact with about fifty young Sudanese males and females. I have a pretty awesome job. I play basketball, spend nights wrestling, teach and make music and weekly engage in some random fun activity. While this may sound like just simple, fun activities, I have learned that these activities are saving lives and changing communities.

Each one of these youth have their own unique story and so many carry their trauma in silence. Putting myself in their shoes, how do you explain witnessing the violent death of a family member as a child? Or the true pain of starvation? Or even experiences like being on the edge of death and not knowing how you’re alive? Where do you even begin to share those stories with others or reconcile it within yourself?

Yet, even with all this as the foundation of their lives, these youth seem to find a way. In a dynamic like this, it can be difficult to articulate what we achieve with these youth. The best way I can explain it is that, as a team, we seek out opportunities for these youth–opportunities that are a way out of the oppression their past can bring and a bridge towards a hope-filled future.

Let me give you an example:  the boys I work with are in love with basketball. They all secretly hope to play in the NBA one day. One of the boys in particular has trained incredibly hard. Neither one of his biological parents ever came to Australia; he was brought over by another women. His father passed away, fighting for the liberation of South Sudan and he hasn’t seen his biological mother in 10 years. This youth has pushed himself and believed in himself and as a result been offered the opportunity to attend a camp in the USA where college scouts come and see if they want to take anyone onto their teams. This is really his last chance to achieve his dream and it’s an incredible opportunity for him, but also his community as a whole. He needs $5,000 to get there. This is where we come in: we don’t know where we are going to get that money from, but it’s an opportunity and one that holds a lifetime of hope in it, so we will push to do what we can to see this dream become a reality for one boy.

There are more stories like this; the details vary, as do the hopes and dreams. For those that literally have no dreams we fight against the world’s destructive impact and do what we can to draw these kids towards hope.

Called Me Out

Recently, I asked two of our youth Chakuen (pronounced Shar-qwin) and Youah (pronounced Yow-uh) to write a song about their experience as refugees. They wrote about the journey from South Sudan to Australia and the struggles they have had on both ends, I told them that in this song they would be speaking for many people. They embraced the opportunity and we collaborated–the boys wrote the verses and wrote the chorus and melody. Both have very clear memories of their struggle and this song is just one form of expression for them. They are 16 and 17 years old.

They sing: 

“In the Lord’s eye

We are all counted as equal

The wars around the wold

Is all nonsense and evil

I went through the struggle

And came out a hero”

So, as the world looks at Kony and the devastation these kids know well, I can’t help but feel an incredible sense of Justice as we draw these youth into advocacy against someone who has inflicted so much grief upon their lives and stolen so much from an already struggling people group. It gets me pumped! Let’s stand as global community and say, ENOUGH!

_________________________

LINKS

Editor’s note:

If you’d like to learn more about Joseph Kony and the LRA’s activity in the South Sudan, Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) and Central African Republic (CAR), here are some links for background:

• Most comprehensive report on the LRA I have read so far by Sudan Human Security Baseline Assessment: Download the report as PDF: SmallArmsSurveySudan.org 
• The Star.com: Who is Joseph Kony? A look at the Ugandan warlord, March 8 (a good timeline) Notice: He started moving into the South Sudan in early 2008.
• AllAfrica.com: South Sudan: Kony Must Be Kicked Out of the Bush to Make People Rest, Feb 28 (does he really only have 20o men now?)
• Interesting research and perspective from the Justice and Reconciliation Project: Pay Us so We Can Forget:* Reparations for Victims and Affected Communities in Northern Uganda

PETITION

Please sign the petition to Canadian PM Stephen Harper. Let’s reach 5,000 signatures! We’re almost there.
_____________________________

About Jacynta:

Well, what do I say? I’m a 25-year-old chick who stumbled upon justice and fell in love. Now here I am a part of things I never even imagined I would be. I live in Melbourne, Australia. Currently I work with The Salvation Army as a Youth Worker. The youth I work with are mostly refugees from South Sudan and are faced with the difficulties of being the first wave of refugees in Australia from South Sudan. I’m currently studying a Bachelor of Social Work full time at University. It’s not a boring life. Not even close.

When Loving My Neighbour Is Not My First Response

“I suppose the best lesson I learned at The Justice Conference is that the ‘social justice’ work that needs to be done is not in everyone else, but in me.”

By Ashley Mandanici | Twitter: @ashleymandanici

My first day back at work after The Justice Conference in Portland, I drove into the parking lot of the church where I work to a rather familiar sight: a man from the temple across the street was wandering around the church parking lot. For some reason I never really questioned it before. I suppose I figured: “Who doesn’t love wandering around parking lots at 08:30am?”

As I got out of my car, he made a loud bark at me. I attempted to ignore it. Then he went on muttering to himself.

I went inside and finally decided to ask a couple of my co-workers in the foyer: “What’s the guy in the orange turban doing?”

ShePonders: Restitution

“… I want to see this kind of salvation come to my house.”
By Kelley Johnson-Nikondeha

Audio: ShePonders: Restitution

Click on the link above for an audio experience of Kelley’s post.

My beloved South African friend, René, traveled in, bringing gifts of rooibos tea and Merlot from a local wine farm. She shared in our holiday tradition of turkey roasting, potato mashing and thanks giving, not that many months ago. She regaled us with tales from her homeland that left us all thoughtful and thankful, for post-Apartheid South Africa is a complex context. We spent the next morning cloistered in conversation while clutching coffee. We spoke of the theological voice of women, restitution, mutual friends, favorite spices and she offered her wickedly good impression of Desmond Tutu.

Yes, we spoke of “restitution.” (Doesn’t everybody?) She is part of The Restitution Foundation, a group of South Africans devoted to thinking and enacting restitution in their country. They offer this scenario as an example:

“Imagine a man’s bicycle is stolen. This now means he has no transport, and cannot get to work; thus he loses his job. Without a job, he cannot educate his children or support his family. Perhaps he used that bicycle to run errands for the homebound elderly woman next door; now she is affected by the loss as well. Jobless and frustrated, he becomes a drain on his community rather than a resource. What would restitution look like in this situation? Certainly it is not just returning the bicycle. He is not the only person who has been affected by the crime; his family, his neighbors and his community have also suffered.”

“Compensation” would dictate that the bike be replaced. “Charity” would suggest offering some food to his family or maybe school supplies for his children. Restitution demands more, but can also deliver something much more lasting and transformative.

As we sipped the dregs of our morning coffee, she shared about her baggage boondoggle. Our domestic carrier charged her twice as much as expected for her two checked bags. This really put a crimp in her already tight budget. So from then on, each time I picked up the check for lunch or paid for her sundries along with mine at the grocery store, I’d wave it off as making restitution to her on behalf of my country’s airline policy. We’d laugh and carry on. It was a joke–because I’d planned on spoiling her every chance I got whilst she was in town! But the joke had legs– ones that began pushing on me in terms of what restitution means in my own context.

Satisfied

After the final meal we shared, she handed me the receipt for her baggage fees and declared that restitution had been satisfied; rather tongue-in-cheek! All laughing aside, I knew a new word had entered my discipleship vocabulary.

Zaccheus

Walking through Jericho one day, Jesus looked beyond and above the crowds and saw a small man perched in a tree. All the locals knew it was Zacchaeus, a rich man due to his work as the chief tax collector.

Jesus called out, “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today.” The little man moved down the tree and into the street quickly, eyes shining with excitement at the unexpected opportunity to host the Rabbi.

“Lord, half of my possessions I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.” It was then, after this astonishing statement of restitution, that Jesus declared, “Today salvation has come to this house … ”

Giving half of his possessions to the poor was an extravagant act of charity–a great start. But the most revolutionary action was the decision to offer restitution to those he defrauded. He knew his riches were gained by exploiting the poor and his actions had impoverished an entire community. His offer of restitution demonstrated his awareness that they deserved more than “charity” (discretionary giving from his abundance) and more than “compensation” (dollar for dollar repayment). His offering made it clear that he was moving away from unjust gains and toward the costly practice of justice. I think this is why Jesus declared that salvation, or transformation, had come to his house.

Think about those who he would repay over the next set of days–what must that exchange have been like? They would come face to face with the chief tax collector but this time they would walk away with a heavier purse–radical! They would look him in the eye and he would do the same and maybe for the first time ever they saw each other as “neighbor.” Amazing! This would mark the beginning of a new relationship between them and a new way of engaging in community life together. I imagine Zacchaeus’ road of restitution was hard and had its share of pitfalls as he learned this new practice, but I am convinced it was a worthwhile journey toward the good that blessed the entire neighborhood.

So, here is the lingering question: How do we incorporate the practice of restitution into our daily discipleship? My Palestinian friend makes me laugh. Our kids play together in the park most days. I think of the policies of my country toward her people, her homeland and wonder how I can enact restitution in the context of our friendship. My state is infamous for poor attitudes and treatment of the immigrant community–is this yet another opportunity for me to find some way of living out justice by practicing restitution?

The Restitution Foundation in South Africa helps whites think about their status as beneficiaries of power and privilege, as well as creating opportunities for them to participate in restitution in townships and other communities affected by the injustice of Apartheid. Maybe we be could reflect on how we might be beneficiaries of our own systems and consider the power and privilege we possess. Then, let’s get creative and imagine how we could practice acts of restitution for individuals of these communities.

It will be costly, radical and deeply transformative. But I want to see this kind of salvation come to my house!

____________________________________

My dear friends, I would love to hear your thoughts on this:

For example:

• Where have you been the beneficiary of power and/or privilege?
• How can you imagine incorporating the practice of Restitution into your daily discipleship?
• Any other thoughts?

_________________________________

About Kelley:

Kelley Johnson Nikondeha is co-director of Amahoro Africa and international staff member of Community of Faith with her husband Claude. She’s a thinker, connector, advocate, avid reader and mother of two beautiful children. Kelley lives between Arizona and Burundi. She loves handwritten letters, homemade pesto and anything written by Walter Brueggemann.

ShePonders: Fasting

On Lent, fasting and what God requires of us.

“We are not able to substitute a forty-day fast for daily habits of justice.”

By Kelley Johnson-Nikondeha | Twitter: @keljnik

On the eve of Ash Wednesday, many of the faithful turn their thoughts to fasting. “What should I fast for the forty days of Lent?”  However, I imagine other questions circulating like: “What is the purpose of fasting? Does fasting even work?”

God seems to speak right into this very line of questioning in Isaiah 58. I’d like to imagine that He said these words right before a holy day or amid the preparations for a religious festival on the Jewish calendar. Right in the thick of the ritual fast, right as the people were questioning the efficacy of fasting … He spoke.

The people ask God why He does not give them His divine attention as they are fasting and sacrificing so much. And the response: “You call this a fast?  You might be denying yourself some little things but you continue to indulge in injustice by paying low wages, exploiting your workers, quarreling and getting into fist fights.”

God then outlined the kind of fast that would get His attention:

“ … to break the chains of injustice, get rid of exploitation in the workplace, free the oppressed, cancel debts.” (The Message)

He continued saying that when we share our food, our home, our clothes and our time with our neighbors, then we will have His attention.

When we participate in the work of justice–it is a holy and God-ordained enterprise. When we are advocating for land rights, refusing to purchase goods made with slave labor, securing identity cards for women at the margins and demanding better education in the ghetto, we work in tandem with God. When we engage in such work, we already have His proximity, His presence and His undivided attention. When we pay fair wages to our employees, create safe work environments, help a single mother with childcare or invite a famished friend to our table–we already have God’s attention.

God does not require a ritual fast, He asks for us to be good neighbors. We are not able to substitute a forty-day fast for daily habits of justice. So fasting does not work as a gimmick to garner God’s attention. We know that He is near to the broken-hearted and so when we draw near to them as well, we are all closer to Him as we move toward justice, abundance and goodness in the neighborhood.

But God is not done with His admonition. He tells the dissatisfied fasters that if they begin to feed the hungry and tend to the afflicted, amazing things will begin to happen around them! God promises to guide them, nourish and strengthen them. And then there is this:

“You’ll use the old rubble of past lives to build anew, rebuild the foundation from out of your past. You’ll be known as those who can fix anything, restore old ruins, rebuild, renovate, make the community livable again.” (The Message)

The image here is of a rundown neighborhood– a ghetto or slum. This broken-down place has been abandoned over the years, all those who could moved out to the suburbs where there were better schools and safer streets. Nothing works right in the ‘hood, just a tangle of people trying to get by on the crumbs of society. Sometimes they resort to violence and other vices–it is a hard place and nowhere you want to live. We drive a few extra miles in our air-conditioned cars to avoid this very place.

But when we care about neighbors and neighborhoods, we are drawn to these trouble spots.  We sit on the stoop and listen to the elderly speak, we watch the kids cut across the dilapidated playground and we see the women at the bus stop returning from the day shift.  And then we start to imagine something better for these neighbors.

We become known as “the fixers” who can come in and set things right and get things done!  We know how to take the old and repurpose it, to refurbish the run-down homes and renovate (dare we say innovate) schools.  We become those who carry God’s potential for newness into the neighborhood, transforming it into a livable community. Lives and landscapes transformed by neighborliness … this is what God had in mind all along.

And as neighborhoods are turned around, we are given new names:

“You shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to live in.”

God beckons us to be good neighbors, the kind of neighbors who little by little, one kindness at a time, reimagine and renovate entire neighborhoods. 

“Good neighbors, not good fasters.  This is what gets God’s attention.”

One thing that is clear in God’s comment on fasting is that He does not desire religious rituals in place of justice. He does not want fasting on holy days– but rather justice every day.  He does not want us to bring our offering to the temple if we have some unresolved matter with a friend. God wants us to be good neighbors–so justice and reconciliation always come before rituals, even before the spiritual practices of fasting and almsgiving.

I embrace the practice of fasting as a valuable spiritual discipline. I will be fasting for Lent. But I believe that fasting is about soul-shaping, not a means to get God’s attention and never a substitute for daily rhythms of neighborliness.

I want to have a new name – something along the lines of “the restorer of streets to live in.” In order to be that woman, the practice of fasting just might help me shave off some rough edges and reorient my heart. Fasting is a tool in my hand, not a gimmick or magic trick. For me, the practice of fasting will help shape me into a woman worthy of a name change!

________________________

My dear SheLoves friends, I’d love to hear:

• What has been your experience with fasting?
• Are you planning on a fast for Lent?
• Any other thoughts or comments?

________________________

AUDIO DOWNLOAD

Audio: ShePonders: Fasting

Click on the link above for an audio experience of Kelley’s post.

___________________________

For further reading:

• For a good introduction to the idea and practice of fasting during Lent, check out this article by my friend and former instructor, Mark Roberts: Do you have to give up something for Lent?
• Also, here’s my post from Ash Wednesday last year: I am Pleased: Thoughts on Lent, Fasting and Eschewing Religion.

_____________________________

About Kelley:

Kelley Johnson Nikondeha is co-director of Amahoro Africa and international staff member of Community of Faith with her husband Claude. She’s a thinker, connector, advocate, avid reader and mother of two beautiful children. Kelley lives between Arizona and Burundi. She loves handwritten letters, homemade pesto and anything written by Walter Brueggemann.

Finding My Irreplaceable Thread in the Garment of Justice

“In the garment of justice, your love is an irreplaceable thread.”

By Stephanie Motz Skinner | Twitter: @stephmotz

The word “justice” scares me. It’s not difficult to observe the world and recognise the countless ways in which some people suffer. Simply being offended by cruelty and exploitation actually requires very little of me. Action is far more expensive.

I think recognising an injustice can be a confrontational experience; even intimidating. By its very nature, injustice cries out for a rectification or a remedy. But with the magnitude of the pain we observe, it’s easy to feel defeated.

I felt encouraged then when I heard of a group of SheLoves sisters will be roadtripping to the Justice Conference in Portland, Oregon next week. The Justice Conference? I have never heard of such a thing, but what a brilliant testament to the fact that there are numbers of people out there now who realize it’s simply unacceptable to stay paralyzed by feelings of insignificance when we are awakened to the suffering in our world.

When I checked out the website from my home here in Uganda, I saw the Justice Conference has a beautiful message to share … a refreshing way of helping me understand what justice looks like.

“Justice,” they say, “is a garment, a billion threads, interwoven, interlocked, knit together with strength and integrity. Pull one thread from the fabric and the garment begins to fray.”

Some of the issues the conference will tackle are exploitation, human trafficking, hunger, genocide, gender violence, gender equality, the environment and immigration. Just reading through that list can seem terrifying, but it made me realize how much is at stake here. These issues are so entrenched in our world that nobody can contend against them alone. Every simple and small contribution is needed if we want to overcome them.

The promotional video for the conference ends with this powerful statement: “In the garment of justice, your love is an irreplaceable thread.” And I would add that each one of our voices and individual talents are also necessary. Maybe you’ve heard that before, but it really motivated me this month and I often need to remind myself of it.

Confession

I know we are not meant to be competing against each other, but the truth is, at times, I can feel insecure. Sometimes I find myself looking at what other people are doing to fight injustice and I can begin to believe I have nothing to offer or I’m not doing enough.

But, I’m learning we can’t all be running the same race. It is necessary that we each have something different to contribute. It’s natural that we each align our hearts with a specific issue … a calling that resonates in us individually. As I think of this, and I imagine the garment of justice, I see colour and diversity–an intricate and beautiful pattern.

There is space for all of us.

 Different issues, Different talents

I’m thankful that SheLoves opens doors of opportunity for us to respond to injustice. Here, we support each other and learn from each other’s experiences. We are invited to be a part of so many different stories, but we are also encouraged in our individual journeys.

I’ve seen here, at She Loves, how many of our sisters are driven to action because they are passionate about finding solutions to a specific issue, and they use what is in their hands to respond.

Let’s take one issue–human trafficking–as an example. I admire how Tara Teng used her platform as Miss Canada to shed light on the issue. We need women like Tara to speak out. But, we also need the people who invest their lives working in the field to rehabilitate women and children who have been rescued from slavery. We need women like Danielle, who used her voice and art to raise funds for Abolition International. We need women like Katherine and Annette, who are creating a film to raise awareness.

I appreciate that, even though we can’t do it all–we can’t all travel, create films, fundraise or speak in public–we can still be a part of other people’s journeys and they can be a part of ours. Whether we are cheering others on, donating or praying, we all have the opportunity to help keep the garment of justice together and I’m thankful that each thread matters.

I’m reminded again: None of us can do it all, but we can all do something.

_____________________________________

My dear SheLoves friends, I wonder:

• What comes to mind when you hear the word “justice”?
• Are you going to the Justice Conference?
• What issues shake you and inspire you to act?

_______________________________________________

About Stephanie:
I believe in the power of storytelling. I’m a photographer and writer for Fakeleft. Together with my husband, we love sharing stories of courage, of strength in the face of adversity, of triumph and hope. I truly believe that by partnering with others who want to bring change and justice to our world, we can actually make a difference.  I’m learning to walk in my nascent faith, but it’s not always easy. It’s an interesting journey.

I am currently living in Uganda, but my heart is everywhere. I’m a proud Latina from Choluteca, Honduras. I wish I had a Spanish accent. My favourite meal is dessert and my favourite sport is tanning. I blog at fakeleft.com/blog and tweet at @stephmotz