In the Name of Freedom

While browsing Netflix tonight I noticed a movie that I have not seen in nearly 20 years. The movie, entitled In the Name of the Father, tells a powerful story of a young man from Northern Ireland. During the IRA bombing campaign of the seventies this man along with three friends is arrested and charged with setting off a bomb in a London pub, killing five people. In addition, the man's father, aunt and several relatives, including young teenagers, are arrested and charged as accomplices. However, none of them has anything to do with the bombing and none of them are even remotely affiliated with the IRA. Nonetheless, all of them are put on trial using flimsy evidence and a guilty verdict is handed down by an emotionally charged court. The defendants are sentenced to prison terms of varying lengths, with the main character sentenced to life in prison.

The movie stirs my outrage and anger at injustice, particularly injustice perpetrated in the name of justice. It outraged me when I first watched it and it did so again this evening. I cannot understand how "good" men could knowingly convict and condemn innocent people. As the movie makes clear, this was not a case of mistaken justice. The government tortured the defendants and deliberately withheld evidence that would have exonerated them, simply because those in authority believed it was more important to get a conviction in the case and show the public that the government was acting to defend the nation. The fact that the defendants were all Irish also helped, given the inherent bias against Irish people in England at the time.

Watching the movie at this point in history I am concerned with the parallels I see with what has happened in my own country over the last ten years. In our emotional response to the events of 9/11, to what extent have we run roughshod over justice because we wanted to feel secure and wanted to feel like we were demonstrating our strength in response to those tragic events? I am saddened that so many Americans who speak out in defense of individual rights and against government intrusion often have remained silent, or even worse have condoned the excesses of our government in its "war" on terrorism. They argue strongly of the need to defend our country's basic values, but then suspend them for anyone that becomes suspect of supporting terrorism.

Above all I am saddened that many believers have adopted this mentality. Placing love of country before love of God, they see the enemies and supposed enemies of their country as unworthy of humane treatment and basic human rights. In their defense of justice they condone injustice. I don't imagine that this pleases God. I am not arguing that evil should go unpunished. I am arguing that those accused of perpetrating evil should not be presumed guilty and we should not condemn them unjustly in our zeal to defend ourselves. To do otherwise is to deny the love of the God we profess. Growing up I was taught that two wrongs don't make a right. That applies just as well when it comes to defending our freedom and values.

America and American Culture

I recently read these words, written by Eugene Peterson in his book The Pastor, which express very well my own feelings:

"I love being an American. I love this place in which I have been placed--its language, its history, its energy. But I don't love 'the American way,' its culture and values. I don't love the rampant consumerism that treats God as a product to be marketed. I don't love the dehumanizing ways that turn men, women and children into impersonal roles and causes and statistics. I don't love the competitive spirit that treats others as rivals and even as enemies.  The cultural conditions in which I am immersed require, at least for me, a kind of fierce vigilance to guard my vocation from these cultural pollutants so dangerously toxic to persons who want to follow Jesus in the way the he is Jesus."

Why I Don't Like Traveling

I don't like travel, especially travel involving airplanes. When I was younger, I thought travel seemed really exotic and imagined that a life spent traveling would be really great. Now, after many years of life and work that involved a fair amount of air travel, I no longer think that. I still enjoy visiting new places and getting to know new cultures. What I really like is to be in a place long enough to establish some relationships, so that my connection becomes personal. But I dislike the process of moving from one place to another. I don't like security procedures at airports. I don't like tiny airplane seats. I don't like arriving or departing in the wee hours of the morning.

Most of all, I dislike the person I become when traveling. Airline travel brings out the worst side in me. I become impatient, anxious and my focus shifts totally to myself and those traveling with me (most often my family)--with whom I often become impatient as well. Instead of being compassionate, gracious, and looking out for others, I think of myself and how I can get what I want before someone else gets it. Everything becomes a competition: will I get my space in the overhead bin before someone else fills it? Will I get off the plane fast enough so I don't have to wait as long? Can I get into that line faster than the next person so I can be through security faster? And I worry even more than usual. What if we are delayed? What if security takes so long that we miss our connection? I don't like myself when I travel.

Looking around most airports, I don't think I'm alone in this pattern of behaviour. But that doesn't excuse it. I cannot control how others behave, but I can choose how I will respond to each situation. I want to improve in this area, but it seems like a big mountain to climb. I can take it one step at a time. I can look at those traveling with or around me and try to see them with eyes of compassion, thinking about how I can help rather than how I can get what I want. I can look at people as individuals with needs, feelings and concerns rather than as obstacles to my agenda. Of course that means setting my agenda aside and letting my heavenly Father direct me as I travel, inviting him to help me see the opportunities he places along my journey. I know this would be a much healthier way to travel. Now I need to take the first step.

Thoughts on the movement to "Occupy Wall Street"

A lot has been written and spoken about the various “Occupy” movements that have sprung up first in the United States and then in other parts of the world. These protestors intrigue me. Part of me is drawn to them, while part of me is repulsed by them. I laugh at the irony of Americans protesting because they are economically disadvantaged, while all but the most disadvantaged Americans are still better off than most of the world's people. They speak of being part of the 99% when in fact on a global scale we as a nation are definitely part of the 1%. The protestors organize and promote their message using tools and means utterly unavailable to the masses of the world's poor. I also find that their lack of common message dilutes their impact. Others have noted this, some viewing it as a strength of the movement. But in the end, how much change can they affect if they don't even have a united goal?

Despite these misgivings and criticisms, I am still drawn to these protestors. I resonate with their cry against the system of capitalism that has developed in this country during my lifetime. I am not inherently anti-capitalist, as some would argue. (Nor would I accept the argument that being anti-capitalist makes me anti-American, as has also been implied.) But I definitely see serious problems in the current national and global economic structure. As I read in a recent article, this structure creates an “un-economy:” unfair, unsustainable and unstable, not to mention that it makes people unhappy (well, except for those who clearly benefit from it—and I would debate that even they are finding true happiness through the accumulation of wealth.) A system that fosters the accumulation of large amounts of wealth by a small elite cannot bring about a healthy society.

I was reminded this week of the revolutions that rocked the world in the 19^th and early 20^th centuries. Why did the Russian revolution occur in 1917? There were many factors, but the fact that the tsar and a small elite of the Russian nation had vast wealth (I've seen a small portion of it during my years in Russia and it was amazing) while the majority of the population lived in abject poverty certainly was a key element. I recognize that most Americans are far from that level of abject poverty. But our current system certainly works to assure that the wealthy continue to accumulate wealth while the majority struggle to improve their lives. I don't think the occupy movement will result in anything as drastic as a revolution, but it serves as a useful wake up call that things must change before they reach such a dire point.

I am most distressed by the opposition, even antagonism, that so many of my fellow believers express toward these protest movements. I think that many of my friends and acquaintances have substituted the American capitalistic dream for the message of the Gospel. They view these protestors as disrupting a healthy, stable society and reject them and their message because of this. (Often they forget as well that the right to protest is a fundamental right enshrined in the very Constitution they so adamantly support.) But the Scriptures are full of verses indicating God's passion for justice and his rejection of greed and the misuse of money and power. God calls us to care for those whom society has injured or destroyed. In some cases we can do this within the existing structure of society. But what if that very structure is causing more and more injury and destruction? Do we not as believers need to raise our voice in protest as well and call for changes that will bring greater justice, compassion and mercy? I've not heard any of my acquaintances go so far as to embrace the slogan “greed is good.” But neither have I heard enough of them speaking against it.

I'm not yet to the point where I am ready to go pitch my tent with the local occupiers. But my heart and mind are sympathetically listening to them and I am asking myself what I can do to build a more balanced, just, wholesome society, one in which God's shalom can be realized.

Whose work?

To what extent, if any, does there exist women's work and men's work? Although I imagine most people understand the question clearly, let me express it differently. Is there work that inherently should be done by women as opposed to work that should be done by men? Or as followers of Jesus Christ are we called to offer a different model, a model of mutual servanthood?

I raise the question because of a recent conversation with a friend of mine. She is a single mom raising a teenage son. She works hard both in and outside the home to provide for herself and her son. But when she asks him to do household tasks, he often responds that these are “women's work” and she should do them. They live in a non-Western culture where gender roles are much more distinct and strong than they are now in the West, so his response is acceptable within the cultural norms, although she has done her best to raise him to a different standard. But his response ignores the fact that his mother by necessity must perform many tasks that would culturally be “men's work” and that she is weary and exhausted, while he spends his time hanging out with his friends. (There are also issues here of respecting one's parents, but that is a different topic.)

When I hear stories like this I become angry. I become angry because of a mindset that continues to perpetuate gender inequality even now in the twenty-first century. I simply do not believe that there are roles, or work, that belong by their very nature to women or men. (I make exception for child-birth, which biologically cannot happen naturally any other way. But even in this the husband can take a more active role than he has traditionally and continues to take in many cultures around the world.) I acknowledge that some work may be more suited to a man or woman due to the nature of the tasks required and the physical characteristics of men and women. But I object to saying that any particular work or role should be done or belongs to men or women. I know many women who are physically stronger than I and therefore more suited to tasks that might be considered “men's work.” At the same time men are also capable of performing work that traditionally has been assigned to women. I don't see any valid basis to argue for an inflexibility delineation of tasks into the categories of men's or women's.

Thankfully in Western cultures we have progressed far in this area (which is not to say that we do not still have room for improvement) But many cultures around the world lag far behind. Unfortunately many people I know who go to work in these cultures do not want to confront this issue because they feel it is a matter of cultural preference. I recognize that it is culturally defined, but I also assert that it can be cultural redefined and offering an alternative example can be a powerful way to begin that process. But we must be willing to risk ridicule and rejection along the way. While living overseas I once was sweeping the sidewalk outside our gate. Our neighbor, another foreigner who had lived longer in that culture, informed me that I was “shaming” my wife by doing work that culturally she was expected to do. Why should it be shameful for a husband to help his wife with the burdens of daily life? And why should I care if others think that way?

I also find it unfortunate that believers often lag behind in this area. Thinking again of people I know who serve cross-culturally, I am disappointed that they do not more actively challenge their local friends and converts in this area. Perhaps it does not seem to them to be a core issue of Christian life. But is that the case? Christ came to transform society, not to simply save souls out of it. What a powerful example we could offer if we as believers modeled not a gender-based division of labor, but rather mutual servanthood. Instead of refusing to do a task because it might bring shame or would be considered the work of the other gender (and most often it seems men have the problem with performing “women's work”), couldn't we offer a powerful model of servanthood by looking for opportunities to serve our brothers or sisters at the point of their need? If a sister (woman) needs help cleaning or cooking, or in any other task, why can we brothers (men) not step up and offer to carry that burden? (Again, women seem to be quicker and more willing to offer this service to men, but the same question could be asked of them.)

The same friend of whom I wrote initially also has a task to help organize a seminar for women. Among other responsibilities she must help with organizational and administrative needs. This comes on top of her many other duties and responsibilities in life. When I heard this, I thought that this would be a great place for the Christian men in the community to step in and offer to help their sisters. Then the women could focus on the direct ministry to women, while the men could offer a powerful example of Christian servanthood by providing for the needs of the women. I expect they would receive a lot of cultural criticism, shame and ridicule for doing so, but at the same time they could offer a powerful testimony of what a life transformed by Jesus Christ looks like.

So let's put aside the outdated concepts of “men's work” and “women's work.” Instead let's adopt an ethic of mutual servanthood and look for opportunities to serve each other as brothers and sisters in Christ. After all, that's the model he gave us.

The Things We Leave Behind

This summer our family had to make the difficult and painful decision to leave our home in Central Asia and return to the United States for a time. We have lived overseas for several years and had established our primary home there. Now we must dispose of all the things we have acquired and shipped there over the years because, while we plan to return in the future, that will not happen for at least three years due to the needs of our children. Central Asia does not have self-storage units for rent, our local friends generally have very small apartments, and our other foreign friends live transient lives just as we do. This leaves us with limited options for long-term storage. With this in mind my wife and I returned here this month to sell and give away most of our things. We will bring a few personal items back with us, but the vast majority of our belongings will be better off remaining behind.

Michael Card sings a song entitled “Things we leave behind.” In it he reminds us that: “We can't imagine the freedom we find, from the things we leave behind.” I've always liked this song. Now I have the opportunity to embrace that freedom wholeheartedly. But while I affirm the idea and even the result, the process of freeing oneself from one's possessions is painful and tedious. I suppose it would be easier if we just decided to part with everything, because then we wouldn't have to look at each item and decide whether it is important enough to hang on to. Because we do want to hang on to a few things though, especially those things that are important to our children, we must go through that process and after several days of it we are weary and sad. We know that we don't need most of the things we will pass on and in fact are filled with joy at the prospect of blessing our friends with many of them, but almost every item has some memories attached to it and letting go comes at an emotional price, be it large or small. Yes, we find freedom in the things we leave behind. But breaking those chains hurts.

Yesterday we moved out our children's bedroom furniture. On the one hand I was delighted to see it go, because it feels like a big step in emptying the house. I also knew that the items were going to people who could really use them and I found joy and comfort in that. But my wife and I also felt sadness seeing it go, because it was a tangible indicator that we do not expect to return here with our children, who will be ready for college by the time we expect to come back. We hope they will come to visit, maybe even for an extended period, but we don't expect them to live with us regularly here again. As has so often been the case in my life, joy tastes somewhat bittersweet.

I look forward to coming out on the other side of this process and enjoying the freedom of the things we have left behind. As we establish ourselves in the US again, I want to avoid accumulating things, although I know this will be the natural inclination. Our culture compels us in that direction, but I want to hold on to the freedom that I am gaining this month. Although bittersweet, it is truly liberating.

Is Life a Highway?

"Life is a highway," sings Tom Cochrane (although most people will likely be more familiar with the cover version performed by Rascall Flatts for the movie Cars.) I wish that were true. I'd like my life to be a smooth highway, well-lit and well-signed, with rest areas spaced conveniently, so that the journey would be as smooth and pleasant as possible. In fact, I imagine that's how most of us would like our lives to be. Certainly we do everything we can to make it this way, to remove the element of the unforeseen and the possibility of the unpleasant. We buy insurance policies, save for retirement, and plan for as many contingencies as we can think of. (At this point I'm tempted to digress into examining whether these things fit with a biblical worldview, but that's another topic.) In the process we lessen as much as possible the need to rely on God in faith.

My life, by contrast, seems to fit better the image of a winding path through the mountains. I walk this path in the night, with a small flashlight or lantern to light my way. The light cast allows me to see just enough of the path to take a step or two forward. I have a map that gives me a general sense of where I'm going. I know my ultimate destination. But I don't know exactly by what path I will get there. It's a bumpy, rough journey, filled with uncertainty and surprises and, yes, even some unpleasantries. I can only successfully walk this path by faith, trusting in the hand of the one who does see the whole path. And for purposes that I don't always understand, he only lets me see a bit of it at a time. In this way I learn to walk by faith, taking one step at a time, much as a young child who is first learning to walk constantly looks up to her parents for affirmation and assurance.

The lives of others often seem to me more like the proverbial highway mentioned earlier. Perhaps they only appear that way. Certainly many of my fellow journeyers travel paths as challenging as my own. Sometimes, okay often, I compare my path to that of others and I am tempted to complain, or feel regret, or sorrow or any number of other emotions that flow from a belief that I am somehow missing out on some blessing that I believe should be mine. But I am learning, every so slowly, to embrace the journey before me. On this journey I encounter joy and sorrow, beauty and ugliness. I have the opportunity to grow in faith. I have the privilege, if I will receive it, of getting to know the Father who leads me on this journey, who in fact walks alongside me. And along the way I also have the joy of various companions, some with me for shorter times, others for longer. When I remember to focus on these things, then I'm not so tempted to wish my life were like that highway. The path provides a better journey.

Michael Card sang a song that describes life a bit differently. He tells us that:

There is a joy in the journey

There's a life we can love on the way

There is a wonder and wildness to life

And freedom to those who obey.