One Billion Rising

Violence against women is a horrific and oppressive reality the world over, but with the recent global publicity of the torturous gang-rape in Delhi, violence against women - especially sexual violence - is taking the stage in an entirely different spotlight in India.  On Valentine's Day, I joined NGOs and concerned citizens in Cubbon Park, Bangalore, to sing, dance, act, paint, and ultimately say "No" to violence against women.

India is a culture that is permeated by struggles for women's rights, but also that is filled with strong women and men who are standing up for justice.  The use of art at this event was especially powerful.  Not only was art on display, but the participant was invited to paint banners, join dances and mimes, or take a canvas to the grassy lawn to paint their response; to enter the struggle.  I have hope that this year may be the year of the woman in India, beginning to build a solid foundation for the rights of generations to come.

To learn more about the movements to say "No" to violence against women, visit www.onebillionrising.org.

On Lent; On Fasting

...day after day they seek me out; they seem eager to know my ways,
as if they were a nation that does what is right 
and has not forsaken the commandments of its God.
They ask me for just decisions and seem eager for God to come near them.
"Why have we fasted," they ask, "and you have not seen it?"
"Why have we humbled ourselves and you have not noticed?"
Yet on the day of your fasting, you do as you please and exploit all of your workers.
Your fasting ends in quarreling and strife, and in striking each other with wicked fists.
You cannot fast as you do today and expect your voice to be heard on high.
Is this the kind of fast that I have chosen, only a day for people to humble themselves?
Is it only for bowing one's head like a reed and for lying in sackcloth and ashes?
Is that what you call a fast, a day that is acceptable to the Lord?

Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
To loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke,
To set the oppressed free and break every yoke?
Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter - 
When you see the naked, to clothe them, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?
Then your light will break forth like the dawn, and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteousness will go before you, and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard.
Then you will call and the LORD will answer; you will cry for help, and He will say 'Here am I.'

If you do away with the yoke of oppression, with the pointing finger and the malicious talk,
And if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
Then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noonday.
The LORD will guide you always, 
he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and strengthen your frame.
You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail.
Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins and will raise the age-old foundations;
You will be called Repairer of Broken Walls, Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.
[Isaiah 58]

Repairer of Broken Walls, Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.
That is who Jesus is.  That is what He came to do.
As we prepare for Easter,
As we identify with Christ in His suffering,
Let us also deny ourselves
Not only by removing something from our lives,
But by adding the active pursuit of Christ's mission.

Repairer of Broken Walls.
Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.
Let it be said of us.

The Motorcycle Diaries

Have you read The Motorcycle Diaries?

I bought it ages ago

(well, the end of November)

Because my sister and cousin and I 

made big plans to motorcycle 

across South America 

in approximately the year 2017.

But I just started reading it yesterday 

- the timing was perfect - 

and I absolutely love it.  

Confession: I cried while reading the introduction.

Let me give you a few of these beautiful phrases that made me smile so hard my stomach burst:

"...he filled his whole life with youthfulness and matured his youth without diluting it"

"...with the sole purpose of getting to know the world..."

"our vocation, our true vocation, was to move for eternity along the roads and seas of the world. always curious, looking into everything that came before our eyes, sniffing out each corner..."

"having the spirit of a dreamer.."

"never to give up until we had realized our dream"

"the enormity of our endeavor escaped us in those moments; all we could see was the dust on the road ahead and ourselves on the bike, devouring kilometers.."

"i felt myself lifted definitvely away on the winds of adventure towards worlds i envisaged would be stranger than they were, into situations i imagined would be much more normal than they turned out to be"

"an expedition has two points, the point of departure and the point of arrival. if your intention is to make the second theoretical point coincide with the actual point of arrival, don't think about the means - because the journey is a virtual space that finishes when it finishes, and there are as manymeans ars there are different ways of "finishing." that is to say, the means are endless."

"...when in reality we had only just begun..."

And a picture of some of Che's observations of life, of injustice, that pricked my heart, pinched my mind:

"...we will see whether some day, some miner will take up his pick in pleasure and go to poison his lungs with a conscious joy."

"...the need to build schools that would orient individuals within their own world, enable them to play a useful role within it..."

"the need to change fundamentally the present system of education, which, on the rare occasion it does offer Indians education (according only to white man's criteria) simply fills them with shame and resentment, rendering them unable to help their fellow Indians and at the severe disadvantage of having to fight within a hostile white society which refuses to accept them..."

"The semi-indigenous features of the curator, his eyes shining with enthusiasm and his faith in the future, constituted one more treasure of the museum, but a living museum, proof of a race still fighting for its identity."

Oh. Oh. Oh.

Good Tidings of Great Joy

Love has come

That the world may know

What the wise men knew

Such a long time ago

A thrill of hope

The weary world rejoices

Truly he taught us to love one another

His law is love and his gospel is peace

Chains he shall break for the slave is our brother

And in His name all oppression shall cease

Mary did you know that your baby boy has come to make you new?

This child that you delivered will soon deliver you

The blind will see

The deaf will hear

The dead will live again

The lame will leap

The dumb will speak

Born that man no more may die

What love

What grace
What redemption

What freedom
What hope

What a Savior.

Merry Christmas from Pottery Town!

Ignorance Doesn't Change the World

Wasn’t it easier in the lunchbox days?

Always a bigger bed to crawl into?

Wasn’t it beautiful when you believed in everything?

Everybody believed in you?

‘Innocent’ – Taylor Swift

Sometimes,

I wish that I could go

Back to the days

When

My biggest decision

Was who to invite to my birthday party

Or which OPI Nail Lacquer to buy

And

My biggest prayer request

Was that I would 

“Do well” in my exam or presentation.

When

My biggest problem

Was an unfair teacher

Or conflicting social events.

When

My biggest worry

Was that I wouldn’t get a date to the prom

Or be accepted to a good college

And

My biggest spiritual hurdle

Was how to “Be a witness”

To my friends who

(gasp)

swore.

The days

When

I could buy a product without

Wondering

About the the people who made it

(fair trade)

(sweat shops)

(chemical exposure)

(child labour)

(conflict minerals)

And therefore become

Conflicted

Myself.

The days

When

Having a crush on a boy

Meant I never had to

Actually

Talk to him.

The days

Before I started thinking critically.

The days

Before I left my “bubble.”

The days
Before I learned
That believing in God
Can be hard sometimes.
Before I wondered
What Jesus really meant
When He said,
"Follow Me."

The days

Before I watched the news.

Before I interacted with the oppressed.

Before I saw people’s spiritual wounds.

Before I experienced a world of unnecessary suffering.

Before I knew heartbreak.

Before I recognized my privilege.

Before I asked questions.

Things were easier in the lunchbox days.

These days are hard,

And sometimes they hurt.

But I believe they are worth it.

I guess it's true what they say,

That

Ignorance is bliss.

But ignorance doesn’t

Change the world.


And it won't change me, either.

Gross but Beautiful

I recently got an email from a friend that included the text "I've never been to India, but I hear it's both gross and beautiful just a few blocks apart."
This made me stop and think.  and I've been thinking ever since.
Yes, this could be right.  In fact, I think it's the idea that most people have of India - they get it from the media, from others' experiences.  India is colorful, rich in culture, beautiful in people and architecture, but at the same time is dirty, impoverished, loud.  India is ripe with contradiction, and one lives in the midst of disparity.
Every morning I walk through the slum on my way to and from the gym.  I love this area - there are vivid colors, children laughing, a pure simplicity and vibrancy of life and community.  It is beautiful.
But as I walk, I pass babies toddling around naked.  I pass children squatted on the sidewalk, on the side of the street, taking care of their morning business.  I pass men standing on the other side of the wall, urinating.  Some may consider this gross; I can imagine some people I know turning their head, repulsed, saying something like, "Oh thanks, I really needed to see that."  And I am very conscious of the fact that the puddle on the ground aren't from last night's rain.  Yes, it may be gross, but I consider it injustice and  a lack of dignity for these human beings.  I pass fathers bathing their children, mothers washing clothes, both rationing water carefully.  I look at my water bottle and realize that what I take for granted, consider a right, even, is a privilege. (Not to mention the fact that I am on my way to the gym.  Where I pay money to exercise.)
When I walk through the slum, I am invading lives.  But I have no choice; they have no choice.  I'm embarrassed, try to avert my eyes, but everywhere there is life; life that is not mine, life most would consider private, life I should not observe.  And it is hard.  Every morning, my heart breaks.  Every morning, I ask why.  And every morning, I wonder what I am doing that makes any difference.
I have even found myself anticipating the day I have a two-wheeler so that I can ride through without looking.
But then I chide myself.  Just because I don't look doesn't mean it doesn't exist.  I don't ever want to become so unaware or calloused that I don't look.  And, even more, I don't want to live my life looking without seeing.

Adventure is a path. Real adventure – self-determined, self-motivated, often risky – forces you to have firsthand encounters with the world. The world the way it is, not the way you imagine it. (Mark Jenkins)