The heart of the matter...

Home. That word has new meaning for me after our experience on "The Justice Tour" this past weekend. Last night I was back at home with my family. As we were finishing our supper of Gordon's fish fillets and fresh veggies, I noticed our two year olds' top lip was swollen to three times it's normal size. Fearing a life threatening, allergic reaction, I scooped her up, rushed to the van, and drove (our minivan) like a Nascar driver (I can dream, can't I?) to the nearest hospital. Since we were already in the hospital's computer system, we were processed quickly. Our valid insurance meant that I didn't have to worry about the treatment options or diagnosis; we were covered. Throughout the ordeal I was treated with the respect a white, middle class, well-spoken, middle aged, adult male is given. I didn't have to worry about understanding the medical personnel or them understanding me. I didn't have to worry about blatant or implied racism. As i wandered the halls of the emergency area to keep my daughter entertained, no one told me to go back to the exam room. It was all rather pleasant. I didn't even have to cover my co-pay, "we'll just bill you if anything is due," I was told with a smile. We were back home within four hours of leaving for the hospital, returning to our 5 bedroom, 5.5 bath home without having to worry about having light or heat inside, as all of our utility bills are paid.

Home has a new meaning for me. As I drifted off to sleep in my bed, the green light on our home alarm system let me know that we were safe from intruders and fire. Home - my children and wife were all tucked into bed, nightlights keeping the boogie man away (as well as those who buy and sell children the age of my three to be used as sex objects). Home - where we thank God for our food and a good night's sleep and our wonderful family that includes a mom and a dad. As I drifted into a restful slumber I didn't venture a thought for those who were sleeping in shelters, or in the cold, dark night, or in the terrifying homes of their "owners" (who use their tiny bodies as toys or sell them to other men, hungry with perverted desire).

As I woke up this morning I knew I could call into work and tell them I'd be taking the day off to spend with my daughter without fear of losing that job. I take so much for granted in my comfortable life! As the day has gone on I have tried to process my experiences in Atlanta and Athens this past weekend in the attempt to make them "learning experiences" instead of just experiences devoid of any changes in my life. Driving to church tonight I was talking with my son about how most of the world does not have the same concept of "normal" that we have. I told him that for most people in the world our home would be viewed as a mansion and our possessions as luxuries. We talked a bit about how unfair it was that US Americans consume so much of the world's goods and resources, leaving many people in the world without enough to survive. I then asked him what he thought we should do about it as a family. He said,

"What do you mean, Dad? I don't want to do anything if it would mean that I'd have to change what I have. I like my life just like it is!"

And that is the heart of the matter, isn't it? That statement sums up what most of us in the United States think and feel. "from the mouths of babes" - he nailed it - maybe we should print that on our mission trip t-shirts or those we wear down to our volunteer one day a month at the homeless shelter. Oh, we'll give a dollar here and there. We'll buy gifts for an "angel child" at Christmas or stuff a shoe box with trinkets that we drop off at a church to be loaded onto a ship and taken half way around the world. We'll marvel at the pictures when we see them on publicity flyers the following year. But then we are done; we are satisfied. We then return to our homes, to our comfortable lives without a second thought for those who are home-less, comfort-less. And as I write this tonight I'm tempted to return to ignorance. It sure is easier. But now I not only have disturbing pictures in my head, I have names that go with those images. Not only do I have names to go with the images, I have the stories of the some of those I have met. Images, names, and stories that represent people whose "normal" is very different than my own.

But most of all what changes everything for me is that I've been hearing slight echoes coming from the recesses of my mind. The sounds are growing stronger all the time. I can make out words, distant calls in a language I used to know. My soul seems drawn to the words, though my consciousness tries to ignore them. In my waking hours I try to push the words down, attempting to quiet the building cacophony that is flooding the back of my mind. It’s getting harder to ignore, harder to mute, harder to silence. The words join with the images, with the names, with the stories, making a living, breathing, screaming, crying, photo gallery that disturbs my conscience, invades my habits, and irritates my normal, comfortable life.

As I turn my attention toward the sounds, the squelch dims. Beneath the din, I hear clearly a voice that is at once disturbing, yet comforting. I hear a voice crying beneath, around, through, and on behalf of the images, names, and stories. I hear a call I cannot deny; I cannot ignore it any longer:

It calls for justice.

It pleads for mercy.

It cries for me to help those who cannot help themselves.

It begs for me to do what I can do.

But that’s not all – the voice demands that I join the chorus, that I too join the din, that I lend my weak meager utterances to the choir. And maybe then one more person will not be able to push aside the noise, the images, that names, the stories. Can you hear the voice? It's growing louder, its screaming now:

The LORD works righteousness and justice for all the oppressed (Ps 103:6).

The righteous care about justice for the poor, but the wicked have no such concern (Pr 29:7).

Surely the arm of the LORD is not too short to save, nor his ear too dull to hear. But your iniquities have separated you from your God; your sins have hidden his face from you, so that he will not hear. For your hands are stained with blood, your fingers with guilt. Your lips have spoken lies, and your tongue mutters wicked things. No one calls for justice; no one pleads his case with integrity. They rely on empty arguments and speak lies; they conceive trouble and give birth to evil. The way of peace they do not know; there is no justice in their paths. They have turned them into crooked roads; no one who walks in them will know peace. So justice is far from us, and righteousness does not reach us. We look for light, but all is darkness; for brightness, but we walk in deep shadows (Is 59:1-4; 8-9).

O house of David, this is what the LORD says: "Administer justice every morning; rescue from the hand of his oppressor the one who has been robbed, or my wrath will break out and burn like fire because of the evil you have done— burn with no one to quench it” (Jer 21:12).

The people of the land practice extortion and commit robbery; they oppress the poor and needy and mistreat the alien, denying them justice (Ez 22:29).

They trample on the heads of the poor as upon the dust of the ground and deny justice to the oppressed. Father and son use the same girl and so profane my holy name (Amos 2:7).

“So I will come near to you for judgment. I will be quick to testify against sorcerers, adulterers and perjurers, against those who defraud laborers of their wages, who oppress the widows and the fatherless, and deprive aliens of justice, but do not fear me,” says the LORD Almighty (Mal 3:5)!

Woe to you Pharisees, because you give God a tenth of your mint, rue and all other kinds of garden herbs, but you neglect justice and the love of God. You should have practiced the latter without leaving the former undone (Luke 11:42).

Oh God, keep the images-names-stories and Your words ever before me, locked in my vision, to remind me of those “others” who have needs. God, help me to see the “stuff” I don't need, so I can make life-changes in order to alleviate some suffering, pain, and injustice in my world. Let me join the chorus; let me shout with you:

But let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream! (Amos 5:24)

Yes, Lord, Home has new meaning for me - I can't plead ignorance anymore; I now understand that MY inaction, MY inattention, and MY normal-American greed, results in others (all who have images, names, and stories) not having what they need to survive. Yes, Lord, I am depriving men, women and children - some of whom I have met - of homes, of food, of clothing, of...life. My actions and inactions are also keeping some of these same men, women and children, from knowing and loving you. If it is possible, forgive me Lord. If it is possible, forgive US Lord. Annoy us with your words, with your cries, with your pleads to care for those who cannot care for themselves because of our action and inaction!