SheLoves Magazine

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. 

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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.

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.”

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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

She Ran on Her Toes

How Human Trafficking Hit Home for Me

“She stood beside me, in front of the choir room chalkboard, waiting to be heard.” 

By Kisa MacDonald | Twitter: @kisamac

Sandy lived around the corner.  She was blue-eyed, whimsical and often singing to herself.  She was the girl who always ran everywhere on her toes. Every day, she would prance down the big hill after school, softly shuffling her feet like an unstoppable, beautiful ballerina. Our growing-up streets and houses were just scenery for her afternoon stage, witnesses to her perpetual performance.

We were good kids, with well-educated parents and middle-class ambitions: sports, arts and music. What we looked like and how we performed was often emphasized, praised and corrected. We wanted to do it all: be better, win at everything and be rewarded. We were the material girls, listening to Madonna, watching Grease over-and-over, loving Olivia Newton John.

I remember watching Sandy audition for the lead role in the school play.  She stood beside me, in front of the choir room chalkboard, waiting to be heard.  She was shaking, whispering rehearsed lyrics like prayers. Our eccentric teacher loved her song, but didn’t choose her for the big part.  She said that her voice was too soft, did not carry enough impact on the room.

I remember her tears.

I felt sorry for her.

During our first year of junior high, Sandy became hard to see. I ran into her once behind the movie theatres. Her hair was all messed up.  She smelled like too many cigarettes. She was wearing high heels. Her new boyfriend was a few years older.

I was only 15 when I first stood inside The Supreme Court of British Columbia. Sandy was being sentenced for prostitution, and I wanted her to know that someone cared.

The judge felt sorry for her. He only charged her a $1 fine.

We stood outside, squinting awkwardly at each other in the February sun. She thanked me for showing up, while her boyfriend paid the one-dollar fine. A few days later, they moved to Alberta, or some other province.

I never saw her again.

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For six months last year, I worked beside The International Centre for Criminal Law Reform and Criminal Justice Policy (ICCLR) on UBC campus. The ICCLR has issued a commissioned report called “An Exploration of Promising Practices in Response to Human Trafficking in Canada.” (Click on the link for the PDF download.)

I read the report and thought about Sandy standing beside me, in the old choir room, waiting to be heard. I thought about how little I felt, standing as a 15-year-old, on the steps of the courthouse. I thought about the shadow of her old boyfriend.

Please read the report.  Take a long, hard look at what can be done better. Promise me you will raise your voice.  Someone, perhaps like my Sandy, needs to hear.

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About Kisa:

Kisa completed her law degree earlier last year and is currently finishing her articling year at a non-profit that focuses on law reform, legal research and outreach. She grew up on Vancouver Island but has lived all over: North America, Southeast Asia and Europe. In this next season of life, she hopes to see creative community and access to justice established in Vancouver.

Image credit: Nima Mir via Pinterest

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!

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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?

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AUDIO DOWNLOAD

Audio: ShePonders: Fasting

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

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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.

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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.

Seeking the Face of Justice: Lessons from Two Former Child Soldiers

By Stephanie Motz Skinner | Twitter: @stephmotz

When we see how much injustice there is in the world, sometimes we forget that a simple act of reaching out and caring can make all the difference.

I can’t say I fully understand justice. Living in Uganda, however, as I hear firsthand the stories of people who have experienced great injustice–people who are now healing–I’m often reminded of what achieving justice looks like. I also learn that in seeking justice I don’t need to become overwhelmed.

God reminds me there’s nothing silent or static about justice. Wherever I search for the word “justice” in the Bible, I come across action. Justice is life-giving, loud and active. He also provides me with many examples on how to seek justice: speak out, reach out and give.

Seeking Justice

I learn that to seek is the desire or attempt to achieve something. I may have the desire, but if I don’t take the leap from desire to action, I’ll never “achieve” justice. Justice isn’t just the feeling in my heart. It’s the ways in which I will choose to respond to that feeling.

I’m reminded that seeking justice is a choice I continually have to make, because seeking justice, though it’s not impossible, isn’t easy. It can be uncomfortable.

It’s not easy

-Personally, I’m not very good at speaking out. I’m shy.
-Being generous is hard when I feel like I don’t have the finances.
-Reaching out requires meeting people and investing my time.

I have to be honest, sometimes I can get lazy, overwhelmed and scared. I can fail to take the leap from desire to action because it means I have to get out of my comfort zone. Therefore, I have to continue to choose to keep my heart and eyes open so I don’t fail to see injustice and take the opportunities to respond.

Lessons from Filder and Susan

Filder and Susan belong to a generation of children who were abducted by the LRA in northern Uganda and forced to live under the captivity of rebel soldiers. Many of them were forced to witness and commit unimaginable atrocities. They were robbed of their childhood and innocence. Boys were forced to become child soldiers and girls were often given away as trophy wives to rebel commanders.

Like many other abducted children, when Filder and Susan returned from captivity, their community rejected them completely. Now they are part of an initiative run by Watoto that trains and disciples this stolen generation and helps them reintegrate into their communities. They have been given the opportunity to regain control of their lives because somebody acted.

We sat at their new home on Suubi Hill, and when I asked them what was the most important thing I as an individual could do to seek justice, their answers were surprisingly simple. They said that if I care, I will stop and listen to those who are hurting around me. To Susan and Filder, former child soldiers, realizing justice begins with an interaction.

“Just talking with someone who has been through something very painful can help him or her,” Susan said. “Don’t pass and go, find out how they are doing. Talk to them, take your time to sit with them.”

Filder added: “Encourage and be faithful to one another, help them, build them up.”

I know justice is not one-dimensional. Choosing to stop, care and listen might not solve all of the world’s problems. But if it reminds one person of her worth–if one person rises up from her circumstances and starts to believe in herself again–then that simple action might just be the beginning of someone’s experience of real justice. It’s easy to think that our simple, individual acts of goodness, kindness, or love are insignificant when we see how much injustice there is in the world, but it’s exactly those simple, individual acts that, when added together, can begin to make real positive difference.

I notice that difference when I see Filder and Susan. These girls have experienced war, loss and rejection, but when you meet them, you see love, joy and a real sense of appreciation shining through them. They are healing, smiling and dreaming. They want to shine that light and share that face of justice with other women in their community. And that’s the other thing I’ve learnt about this face of justice: it doesn’t stop at that one person. It sets off a ripple.

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What are YOUR thoughts?

• What speaks to you in this post?
• When and where do you see the face of justice?
• How would you like to grow in this area?

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About Stephanie:
Stephanie is a humanitarian and portrait photographer for fakeleft.com where she shares stories of hope and dignity. She blogs at fakeleft.com/blog and tweets at @stephmotz

Seeds of Dreaming and Doing

On Ugandan gardens + Honduran dreams. 

By Stephanie Motz Skinner | Twitter: @stephmotz

December always seems to be a month of reflection for me. It’s a time infused with a steady air of change; of new beginnings. It’s always a time I appreciate the family I am surrounded with, and pine for the others who are far away and scattered, like the leaves of autumn, whose colours I can almost remember from my time in Montreal some years back. And, as the year turns, my thoughts inevitably shift inwards as I analyse my life over the last 12 months. It’s hard now, to imagine those bleak Canadian winterscapes, and as I draw them out from my memory there is almost a brief nostalgia, a distant and twisted kind of longing for that lifeless air that freezes you from the inside as you step outside and draw into your lungs that icy chill.

Uganda is instead a warm and living garden that never suffers frostbite. And my life, too, is like a garden. When I reflect on the journey that my life has taken, I can see a modest, but blossoming landscape. It seems that different areas of my life grow at their own pace. I notice I need to weed out some stubbornness and pride that seem to overgrow and stifle the development of my character. I see how my marriage is flourishing and the relationship with my family is strong like the Mvule tree, the guardian of Uganda’s forests. Some dreams seem stifled by a fear that cuts them back. And out in the distance I see a flowering field of love that is in bloom.

There’s always work to be done in a garden and mine is not yet lush or fully mature. There’s still a lot of pruning, clearing and shaping to do. And as the end of the year approaches, I can’t help but notice the empty spaces, the ones that belong to certain dreams I haven’t yet planted. Even though this year felt like a season of growth, I still hold in my hand many seeds that have been collected throughout my life and, for a moment, it seems as if I didn’t do enough to move forward in planting them.

These seeds of purpose come in all different shapes and sizes. Some of them are dreams I believe God has placed in my heart for me to plant, nurture and grow. Others are areas of my life I want to improve on, things I’m passionate about and personal goals I want to accomplish. As I sketch out the year, it can feel a bit overwhelming to realize how many of them remain unplanted. I begin to wonder about my excuses for not planting them – if I had any. Or I begin to ask myself if perhaps I allowed my fears to stop me. What were my reasons? Why wasn’t this the year? Self-doubt has a way of creeping in and planting its own poisonous seeds. What if my seeds never germinate, or if my plant produces toxic fruit? And then sometimes I just get too busy.

Honduras

One of my seeds–something I’ve wanted to do for a very long time–is to start a program for Honduran youth who are at social risk. I often dream of creating an organization that empowers teenagers who don’t have parents looking after them, or who make their daily living by begging on the streets. Often they are enticed into destructive lives, resorting to drugs and joining violent gangs in a desperate attempt to find a place to belong. I believe that the future of my country is in the hands of the youth and we need to offer them an alternative–a choice. I feel a sense of responsibility as a Honduran towards these teenagers and I want to be one of the people who helps them realize their potential.

This year I learned a few things about gardening by observing and helping my husband with his vegetable garden. I learned that before planting, we needed to first collect the seeds and then research the plant we wanted to grow. We had to learn what the best conditions for the seed were, when was the best time of year to plant it, and whether it grows in sun or shade.

We then had to plan the layout of our seedbed, create it and till the ground. It took us a while before we were ready to plant. We had to first prepare the ground where the seeds would grow and plough the soil where they would take root.
In the same way, I realize even though I haven’t yet planted many of the seeds in my hand, I have been preparing the soil for them.

Living  in Uganda, working alongside NGOs who are empowering people, has confirmed my desire to do something in my own country. I’m observing, absorbing and learning about the complexity of running any form of organization. I’ve also learned the value of humble beginnings and placing our faith in God.

Surrounding myself with others who share a passion for justice and listening to the stories of people who have overcome many adversities in their lives, has stretched my heart and broadened my mind.

This year my heart has been stirred by causes I’m passionate about, and awakened to the pain and injustice others face in this world. I’ve been challenged, strengthened, inspired and encouraged by my family and friends.

This community of sisters who are doers and dreamers has inflamed my passion for justice and strengthened my desire to not just applaud those who are at the frontline in the fight against injustice, but to join them.

Preparing the soil for my seeds meant doing a lot of thinking, praying, researching, planning, reading, writing, and even cheering others in their journeys. It might seem like a small step, but it’s an important step. In gardening it sets the stage for planting. It loosens the top layer of soil to facilitate the planting of the seed.

As I prepare myself for that next step, it reinforces my commitment to these dreams I hold close to my heart. It builds my capacity to fulfill them and develops the character I need to nurture them and help them grow. It strengthens my belief that they should be planted. And it increases the suspense and my excitement for these dreams, because I believe when the time comes to plant them, my heart will be prepared.

I wonder:

• When you reflect on the last year, what comes to mind?
• How do you feel about the seeds in your hand?

Dear SheLoves sisters I wish each and every one of you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Here’s to hoping the next year is full of ploughing, sowing, growing and harvesting for all of us.

With love,

Stephanie.

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About Stephanie:
Stephanie is a humanitarian and portrait photographer for fakeleft.com where she shares stories of hope and dignity. She blogs at fakeleft.com/blog and tweets at @stephmotz

ShePonders: Mercy

“Mercy is womblike and walking … We are invited to make mercy move, somehow.”

By Kelley Johnson-Nikondeha

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<<<ShePonders Mercy>>>

Click on the link above to Listen to Kelley’s beautiful voice, reading this month’s ShePonders: Mercy

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I rolled out my mat and sat cross-legged, waiting for morning practice to begin. I began my slow breathing, trying to travel to a very zen place. Still I could not help but notice the woman who rolled her mat in front of me on the hardwood floor–slim until she turned to the side, revealing her baby bump. I continued to notice her throughout the practice, not very yoga-like, I confess. But I was rather amazed at her ability to balance, move with such range of motion and exhibit such flexibility while being soundly (and roundly) pregnant.

We were invited to set our intention for the morning, and mine was to meditate on mercy. Why mercy? In recent days my husband and I had begun to feel the heaviness of children dying across the Horn of Africa for lack of food and water. It was not just the images broadcast on the nightly news, it was this deep internal pull towards these mothers, these fathers, these children. Each meal I offered my daughter made me think of the women who wanted to do the same for their children, but could not amid a famine-stricken landscape. I carried this gravity within, thinking of the small graves in northern Kenya, Ethiopia and scattered throughout Somalia for the little ones who wilted away too soon.

I was taught that mercy was when we did not get what we rightly deserved. An example would be speeding along in my car, over the posted speed limit, and getting pulled over by a policewoman. But, in conversation, she allows me to drive away with a warning, not a costly ticket. She showed mercy. Or arriving late to an appointment and being told by the waiting party that it is alright, no worries, let’s just continue with the scheduled meeting now that you are here. No shame … just some welcomed mercy. But certainly this understanding of mercy does not apply to the famine in Africa–what could these families have done to deserve drought? They do not ask for my mercy, as in my forgiveness for an offense they committed. Mercy does not fit here.

Another connotation of mercy I encountered in the church was the juxtaposition of justice and mercy. Justice is confronting systems that create inequality; it is a long-term approach to setting things right in the world. Mercy is more like emergency relief efforts, more immediate in nature and short-term in duration. I was taught both are part of a life of faith; like needing both your left and right hand.

Text

So off my mat and back at my desk, I pulled out my Bible and turned to the classic text–Micah 6:8. Let’s clarify the setting first. Israel has been behaving badly, and the prophet has just called them out. Their response? What does the Lord want from us?  Burnt offerings, thousands of rams or ten thousand cows or our first-born children–because we would even sacrifice our children to make this right. But that is not what the Lord wants. Micah declares, “He has showed you, O adam, what is good and what the Lord requires of you, that you shall do justice and love mercy and be ready to walk after the Lord your God.”

It is like He gently summons them back to the garden of Genesis. O, adam, ones created from the soil, you know what is good. (Remember all the goodness found in that garden, in the creation story?) From the beginning it has been the same–justice, mercy and walking with me in the cool of the garden. I feel such a difference in temperature–the Israelites are talking of the fires of offerings and heat of sacrifice and God speaks of cool soil and breezy evening strolls. But I digress…

Connectedness

In this text “mercy” is the translation for the Hebrew word hesed, a very heavy word. This type of mercy speaks of “relationships of abiding solidarity,” according to one scholar. Another describes it as the “mutual liability of those belonging together.” Here, mercy is connectedness and the actions that come from being bound together in life.  This word is often translated as “loving-kindness,” since we show this kind of heart towards those we are connected to in one way or another. Since we have been shaped in the garden, we have been expected to live in connection with all of creation, to honor these relationships we have to one another.

Africans would whisper their word ubuntu here–and they would be right.

But next comes the unexpected part, for me at least. “ …and be ready to walk after the Lord your God.” I have heard about walking humbly all these years, so this change of cadence and phrase caught my attention. (Did I mention I was reading from the Aramaic translation? Aramaic is the language Jesus spoke, and in this season I have loved reading from this translation.) So do justice and mercy–and possess a readiness to walk after Me.

Moving

I can read and think a lot about justice; I can feel mercy coursing through my veins–and that is all well and good. But will I get up and be ready to walk it out?  Will I take justice and mercy (since they really move together) out for a power walk in my neighborhood? I read this now and sense that we are invited to make mercy move, somehow.

Another common word for mercy in the Bible is “compassion.” And this word echoes from hesed, so we are now unpacking another layer of meaning in this word. (As I said, it is a very heavy word!) Compassion is “mother love.” It is womblike– nourishing, life-giving, an embracing of sorts. When we hear of the Good Samaritan having compassion for the man on the roadside, it is this womblike action the gospel is describing. Imagine compassion swelling with growth from the inside, how it starts small but is nurtured until it blooms in the belly and then is birthed into the world.

This is compassion, a twin sister of mercy.

So my imagination held these words: mercy as solidarity, compassion as womblike and a readiness to walk. And what emerged was a new picture of mercy. Mercy is not helping hands, a single glistening tear gliding down the cheek, a tenderness of heart. Mercy is a pregnant woman; gestating goodness, walking into the world with her trainers on, ready to meet the opportunities of that day. She is cultivating life within, she is deeply alert to her connection to this life inside and also the life outside of her. She is glowing with strength and promise. And with all this happening right under her nose, she continues to move out into the world. She brings Good Samaritan neighborliness, she carries the wombed awareness Jesus had as he wept over the city and as he fed the hungry crowds.

Mercy is womblike and walking.

This is the mercy I want to embody–pregnant with goodness and a readiness to walk with a deep sense of my connection to God’s world. In this spirit I work to reach the mothers and children in Africa with food alongside my husband Claude and our friends. Mercy is walking.

So, the next time you see a pregnant woman out for a walk in the park, taking her dogs for a run or practicing yoga on the mat in front of you–remember, you are looking at picture of mercy.

So, my SheLoves sisters, I’d love to hear your thoughts:

• What moves you today as you think about “mercy?”
• Has the Spirit added anything to your understanding of “mercy?”
• Any other thoughts?

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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.

Avoid Paralysis, Confront the Brick

On being a woman without superpowers scaling the often paralyzing walls of Injustice.

By Stephanie Motz Skinner | Twitter: @stephmotz

Sometimes I look at the world, I witness the chaos that engulfs our everyday lives and I just want to give up. I picture myself packing my bags and catching the next ferry to the Caribbean islands of my Honduran homeland. I find the most isolated beach to work on my tan and sip on a Piña Colada while my husband fans me tirelessly with a palm leaf.

These daydreams are an escape from the realities I witness every day. On my way to work I see young children, some of them not old enough to walk, who have been taught to hold out their hands in the shape of a begging bowl and they sit at the busiest intersections gazing pitifully at those who pass them by. I hear the stories of women who were abducted as children, raped and turned into child soldiers. Or there are those who were forced into a marriage they didn’t choose because they felt they had no other opportunities.

Paralyzing

And it doesn’t matter where I am; being constantly aware of the magnitude of injustice in our world can be paralyzing. Frustration and sadness gradually mount up inside until one day I pick up the local paper and the headlines on the front page are enough to make me want to crawl back into my bed and hide under the covers.

Sometimes my thoughts spiral down to a place of pessimism and guilt. I begin to doubt things can improve. I remove myself from the circle of responsibility that we, as human beings, are a part of and I begin looking at the world as if I’m an outsider, an alien in space.

I don’t often allow myself to arrive at that place, but I have experienced that sensation of hopelessness enough times to understand that I don’t like being there.  As soon as I recognize this descent, I begin to seek the strength I need to get back on positive ground.

Here are a few of the ways I cope:

I absolve myself from any guilt I might feel because of my pessimism. I’ve convinced myself it’s natural to become overwhelmed and therefore there’s no reason for me to punish myself for it. Besides, I’ve realized that guilt can actually stop me from acting.  I think it’s OK to find myself in that place, so long as I don’t stay there too long.

I recognize my need for a break and so I distance myself for a while. I focus on more uplifting things. I surround myself with positive people and constructive opinions. To constantly hear negativity about the same issue can sometimes make me feel like we’ll never defeat that monster, so I begin to focus on people who are experiencing success.

I seek strength in God and I remind myself that it’s not about my strength and capabilities but about His strength and what God can do through us. It’s ok if I feel weak. The Bible says His grace is sufficient for us for His power is made perfect in our weakness. “Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.” 2 Corinthians 12-9 NIV

Finally, I remind myself that nobody is in this battle alone and that the only way to break down these towering walls of injustice is to focus on the brick in front of me. I know there are so many others who are consistently confronting their own bricks, and as each one of us remains faithful I’m certain the walls will start to fall.

I’d love it if you had any comments:

• Do you ever feel discouraged by the magnitude of injustice in our world?
• Do you ever feel like you are losing hope?
• How do you cope with these emotions? Where do you find strength?

About Stephanie:
Stephanie is a humanitarian and portrait photographer for fakeleft.com where she shares stories of hope and dignity. She blogs at fakeleft.com/blog and tweets at @stephmotz

TGIF: Are you a Lone Nut or a Leader?

On Derek Sivers, being gutsy and how to start a movement.

by Tina Francis | Twitter: @teenbug
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In the last couple of weeks, I’ve had more than one person refer to me as “leader.” The l-word often induces a severe panic attack that can only be treated by taking deep cleansing breaths into a family-sized bag of Cheetos.

Apparently, I now live in a parallel universe where 65 women are willing to run a half-marathon to raise $50,000 with me.

I lay awake at night tormented by the following thoughts:
- How am I going to run 21 km?
- Are my thighs ever going to get smaller?
- How are we going to raise $50,000?
- No seriously, I think my thighs are getting bigger…

My terribly unimpressive life, that mostly involved binge-eating bread and browsing the Internet, radically transformed overnight. I’m suddenly an email-answering ninja who runs at night. How did I become this unlikely cocktail of Anderson Cooper and Lance Armstrong?

The best part? It’s contagious.

The 65 women who said yes are experiencing a similar phenomenon.

I’m witnessing first-hand, a small but significant underground movement. Women are waking up from a deep slumber. Snow White and Sleeping Beauty are no longer lounging in their 300 thread-count Egyptian Cotton sheets, waiting for Prince Charming to come rescue them. They are going to tag-team with Cinderella, Belle and Jasmine to kick some serious booty.

How To Start a Movement?

I got some interesting responses when I posted the question on my Facebook Wall:

Some of my faves:

- “One compellingly worthy, passionate, adoptable idea that breeds its own momentum through people moved upon to act.” -Doug

- “Start a conversation about something that matters… and keep inviting people into that space.” -Kelley

- “Just move” -Andy

I’m pretty sure that last one was meant to be a joke but it still packs a punch. How many times have we wanted to do something but have been too paralyzed by the fear of failure to “move.” It is reminiscent of Nike’s slogan, “Just do it.”

Since all of life’s big questions are answered on Google I did a search on “How to start a movement?” That is when I found a fascinating TED talk by Derek Sivers best known for being the founder and former president of CD Baby.

You have to watch this 3-minute video. It’ short, sweet and resulted in a huge paradigm shift for me.

‘How to Start a Movement’ according to Derek  Sivers:

1. A leader needs the guts to stand out and be ridiculed.
2. The first follower transforms a lone nut into a leader.
3. Now it’s not a lone nut, it’s not two nuts, three is a crowd, and a crowd is news.
4. A movement must be public.
5. It’s important to not just show the leader, but the followers because new followers emulate the followers, NOT the leader.
6. The biggest lesson– leadership is over-glorified. Yes, the shirtless guy was first, and he’ll get all the credit, but it was really the first follower that transformed the lone nut into a leader. <- This rocked my world
7. We’re told that we should all be leaders, but that would be really ineffective.
8. If you really care about starting a movement, have the courage to follow and show others how to follow.
9. When you find a lone nut doing something great, have the guts to be the first one to stand up and join in.

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I love Derek’s take on leadership.

According to his definition I’m just the shirtless “lone nut” shaking my groove thang on the grass. It was only when my first follower (Idelette) joined me that I suddenly became a “leader.”

All the “new followers” emulate the followers. NOT the leader. NOT the original lone nut. NOT me.

If you’re doing something captivating, people will follow, validate and endorse you.

The large scale adoption of the “leader-follower” combo committed to one goal, idea or cause starts a movement.

That’s how a video goes viral on YouTube, a movie like Slumdog Millionaire wins 8 Academy Awards and millions of Egyptian protesters from different socio-economic and religious backgrounds demanded the overthrow of President Hosni Mubarak’s powerful regime.

There was one shirtless lone nut that got the ball rolling.

I encourage you to either:
- Be that lone nut, or
- Support that lone nut and make him (her) a leader.

Huzzah… I can breathe again!

Xoxo,
Lone Nut
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Here are 5 things that made me smile this week!

Joggers ‘Before & After’ + Inspiring NY Apartment + English Problems + Potato DIY Project + Rachel Platten= TGIF!

1. Joggers Before and After: Sacha Goldberger created an outdoor studio at a park near Paris and stopped joggers to ask them, if they would sprint for him, and then pose right after for his camera. Strangely enough many out of breath, joggers obliged. A week later he shot the same people at his professional studio recreating the pose from the park.

“I wanted to show the difference between our natural and brute side versus how we represent ourselves to society,” says Goldberger.

I find this series fascinating. To see the more images click: here.





2. I’m tickled pink by designer and style icon Iris Apfel’s in-your-face eclectic style. Her bold use of colour and patterns are inspiring. Her New York apartment would make a killer location for a photoshoot or music video. To see more pictures of her home click here.





3. English Problems: Here’s some YouTube goofiness for ya. My favourite is the “em-pha-sis” guy.

4. Potato Print DIY project: I love how this simple project that involves 5 potatoes and acrylic paints in rainbow colors, completely transforms a room. I’m tempted to experiment over the long weekend. For the DIY tutorial click here.



5. New York City singer-songwriter, pianist and beatboxer Rachel Platten’s album ‘Be Here’ is getting a lot of playtime on my runs. The album is full of head-bobbing music perfect for your morning commute to work.

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So … my global SheLoves sisters:
- Is there a lone nut in your world that you need to be supporting?
- Are you the lone nut stalling for time, because you are afraid of putting yourself out there?
I’d love to hear your thoughts, fears and inspirations!

Dear half-marathon Bravehearts,
- I would love to hear what your friends and family have been saying to you, since you said yes.
- Are they using the word “inspiring” or “leader” to describe you?

I’d love to hear about what this experience has looked like for you!

Love you more than refreshing summer fruit Papillotes with a scoop of lavender ice cream,(<- Recipe)
xoxo,
Teen

To read more TGIFs from Tina: Click here.
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SheLoves Half-Marathon for Living Hope
- How it all got started? Read the story: HERE
- Donate: HERE
- Facebook Event Page: HERE
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About: My name is Tina. Loved ones call me: Teen. I am drawn to all that is fresh, spontaneous and creative.

Confession: Some girls dream about Manolo Blahniks or their next Hermes bag. Not me. I dream of freshly baked bread, perfectly barbecued meat & steaming bowls of Pho. My dream lover *cue Mariah Carey song* is someone who would read out a menu to me in Barry White’s baritone voice. ha.ha. Everything about food makes my toes curl. The only thing that excites me more than eating food is beautiful pictures of food.

I was born and raised in Dubai and currently live in the beautiful city of Vancouver, known for some of the best sushi in the world.

I enjoy taking pictures.

Chocolate, Human Trafficking and the Red Light Run

“The point isn’t chocolate. It’s human trafficking.”

By Danielle Strickland | Twitter: @djstrickland

My friends recently ran from the red light district in Amsterdam to the red light district in London (five marathons) in an effort to raise awareness and funds to stop human trafficking.

There’s some video footage of Duncan (the runner) speaking about how rough the day has been on their bodies (especially their knees) and as he staggers his words between breaths, you feel a bit sorry for the guy. But then he says he remembers a conversation he had with a trafficking victim in Amsterdam the day before the race–and he realizes that his hell will end, but hers won’t. As he feels his pain, he remembers hers and he runs for her freedom. Nice.

The campaign Duncan runs with is one I’m a part of. Stop The Traffik is a global campaign that seeks to mobilize everyday people to do something to stop the fastest growing crime on the planet.

When I first heard about human trafficking I found it difficult to believe. And I was not what you would call naïve about the human condition. I was living in the Downtown Eastside of Vancouver just as Robert Picton was finally picked up for his non-stop bloodbath, murdering prostituted women who the police obviously didn’t care much about. The worst serial killer in Canada’s history finally locked up. Yet, even with him off the streets the deep darkness of Vancouver’s underbelly was evident to all.

As soon as I found out that people were kidnapped and persuaded and tricked and transported into slavery and exploitation, I remember feeling something. It was like being sick, but also came with some adrenaline. Frederick Buechner says: “The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.” And with the bad news came this feeling that I was called to do something about it.

I know I’m not alone.

Stop the Traffik

When Stop The Traffik started, it was meant to last one summer and feature a mobilization campaign around “Amazing Grace,” the film about William Wilberforce. But the response was so overwhelming (1.6 million signatures collected over a summer) that it now continues, connected to the UN Gift and mobilizing communities and people in over 80 countries worldwide. It’s quite remarkable.

I headed up the campaign in Australia while I lived there for three years and what we were able to accomplish with a committed group of mobilized, regular people was extraordinary.

Fondue anyone?

We found out that 48% of our Cocoa beans are harvested in the Ivory Coast of Africa where child trafficking and slavery accounts for at least half of cocoa production. The chocolate industry admits to at least 20,000 child slaves working on plantations picking the beans that make your chocolate sweet. The UN suggests it’s more likely 200,000. Either way. It really makes chocolate bittersweet.

About 500 people were at a conference when we all found out together. We were stunned and a bit embarrassed as we cancelled the chocolate fondue we had organized for after that night’s meeting! We sat down and had a quick brainstorm and then started a chocolate campaign to challenge the industry about slavery. Postcards were sent, phoning blitzes organized, protests, school fairtrade chocolate fondue parties ensued, twelve year old kids demanded their family switch to fairtrade chocolate or do without–it was madness. Sweet, beautiful madness as people–normal people, small people, fat people, old and young people began to do something–about injustice. It really was beautiful. We marched, prayed, fasted, talked, danced, sang and ran … phew! 

Less than two years after our first postcard campaign Cadbury’s announced that their Dairy Milk bar was going “fair trade” to ensure there was no slavery involved in the supply chain. Mars was next–and soon our “March on Mars” campaign resulted in changes, promises and extra-urgent board meetings for the MARS company. Now, it’s Nestle’s turn … and you can be sure they are gearing up to lose a fight graciously. The momentum is turning the chocolate industry much sweeter these days–but don’t be fooled into thinking it would have happened anyway. It is only happening because people began to care and then began to do something different.

The point isn’t chocolate. It’s human trafficking. It’s that all of us are implicated in the reality of today’s terrible evil of slavery in the world. We are all involved one way or another and if we are honest enough and brave enough and ready enough we will hear the good news hidden inside the bad. Almost a million people are trafficked into slavery every year. It’s not ok. But nothing will change until we do.

Freedom Relay Canada

This fall Freedom Relay Canada will be launched in communities across Canada. Teams will run 100km in the belief that doing something will matter. And as they run, walk, or bike they will feel some discomfort and every pain will help them awaken to the reality of human trafficking in our world today. What else will wake us up? When will we stand up and do something? When will we understand the power of our own voices and bodies and buying power? When will we move from awareness to action? I think the time is now.

Why not let the change start in you and work its way around the earth?

About Danielle
Danielle serves Jesus as the Corps Officer of Crossroads Community in Edmonton, Canada. Her passion is social justice, including establishing human trafficking response teams in local situations and giving leadership to the global team for the Stop The Traffik campaign. Danielle speaks and teaches around the world and has written several books: Just Imagine: the social justice agenda, Challenging Evil, and newly released this year, The Liberating Truth: How Jesus Empowers Women. Danielle is married and has two sons.