A while back I watched a documentary that focused on the amazing surfing ability of a teenage boy. At the tender age of fourteen he took his surfboard out into the ocean and conquered waves that would swallow up a grown man. Clearly, he possessed a gift, a skill bestowed upon few. Still, his father who was a surfer as well, worried. How could he not imagine losing him to the tremendous power of the sea? Yet he watched with pride, his son taking on the ocean not to battle with it, but to assimilate himself into it, bend himself to its will, humbling both himself and the sea, leaving both the powers of the deep, conquered surrendered. The ocean bowing to his will, his spirit overcome with grateful respect for the power on which he glides. His father, though filled with anxiety and anticipation never hinted at discouraging his son from the danger that awaited him upon every tall wave. His eyes bespoke a heart overflowing with pride at the bravery of his child. It does take brave kid to set out to conquer the ocean. I think though, that his father's bravery may far outweigh the son's. He wears it with humility, but with a fierceness of spirit rarely found the world over. He gives his son over to his dreams, releasing him to the deep, never knowing whether one day, the deep will claim him for good.
Experience is a fine teacher--a better one than any other I know. And those of us who come at life without it often find ourselves facing walls of adversity that rival those 40 foot waves under that fourteen year old's surf board; only less equipped to ride out the wave until they reach the safety of the shallows, where their feet can finally touch the sandy ground. I am often one of those people. I often think I've weathered every kind of enormous wave that life could roll over me, but just like the endless undulation of the sea, life remains ever-changing, and I find myself sometimes under the swell.
A few days ago, I found life coming at me at speeds that rivaled the enormous Hawaiian wave you may recall from the memorable show of the 70's, "Hawaii 50." I remember the intro music, the drums in the background, a quick clip of a hula skirted girl swinging her hips, and then, the Wave. I only caught glimpses of it as my mother hurried me off to bed as a child, but I recall that for some reason, it set a kind of terror in my mind that rolled through my dreams often. I dreamed of being engulfed by it--lost inside a tunnel of water, unable to catch my breath or scream for help. I suspect that my near drowning experience at Lake Murray when I was seven conjured up some of those ephemeral images. I was probably 12 years old before I saw the ocean for myself, and never swam in it until I was 20. I always imagined it as one roll after another of those big Hawaiian billows that haunted my childish dreams.
When I think about the vastness of the ocean, the ships that sit buried beneath its surface, the life that teems, deep below the tumult of those humongous waves, the lives it has devoured and the lives that through time and tribulation, were borne across it seeking safer shores, I am left in awe. We live on a planet made of water, it swirls around us, affecting weather patterns and fueling storms that devastate the modest slips of land that we like to think we own and command. But we really possess so little in the way of power; the reach of our control extending no further than the ends of our own noses, if we find the wisdom to ever acknowledge the truth.
All this talk about water. Sometimes, I don't even know where I'm going when I start to speak of the things that tumble around in my brain. But this time my life drew me to the water--or to the way it behaves and expects us to keep our footing as it continues to morph and move, forcing us to comply or suffer the consequences.
Over the lasts few weeks I feel like life threw me a surfboard and said,"hop on, we're going for a ride." I had no choice, of course, but to oblige. There were days when I knew my need to control came in second to other things. Sickness, injury, end of school ceremonies and beginning of summer chaos took over my life there for a while, and I had no choice but to ride it all out. In some ways I'm still riding--I might have never made it to my feet on that surfboard but I can belly surf with the best of them through the extraordinary struggles of life.
Then again, I find myself in a state of overwhelm often. I find that social media's wealth of misinformation and the strong opinions of my acquaintances flood my mind and my emotions to the point that I want to shut myself down completely. I am confused by much of what I see there--the blind followers of a party, a leader, or a belief system they've never taken one second to examine or test or dig deeper into--they fill me with a sense of familiar shame and dread. I recall that I used to be one of them, someone who wanted to be told what to believe and who happily accepted what I was told as the truth. Ignorance is bliss, they say, but when life comes at you with a reality as big as a 40 foot wave, ignorance makes a poor life preserver.
Once in a while I try to speak my own truth, but it falls on ears that are stuffed with bias and dogma and fear of finding they lived an entire lifetime believing a lie. Perhaps to them, the nightmare of allowing their beliefs to be challenged is akin to my dream of that enormous wave swallowing me up. What are we without our beliefs, and who are we if our beliefs get challenged and then changed?
So because of our deeply held beliefs, we live in a world of fear.. We fear anything different from what our mama's and our preachers teach us. We fear anything that comes from the mouths or the hearts of the "other" that does not abide with us in our bubble of belief and separation. Religion and politics aside, there seems to be so little space on dry ground for equality and and respect between mankind. Our human spaces are filled with limp justifications of the atrocities done to our fellow man. The Christian masses somehow stand on the side of persecution and merciless accusation while those they vilify as evil and ungodly try to unite in love and in defense of those who are downtrodden and looked upon with disdain. Those who merely want to follow The Commandment--that we love our neighbors as ourselves, seems to apply only to the neighbors who look and live the way we do.
Folks, I grew up sitting with my skinned up knees showing past the hem of my Sunday dresses, sitting at the feet of my Sunday School teacher, Mrs. Sarah Davis, who taught me more about the Jesus many say they serve, than most high-minded Baptist preachers can even hope to know before they stand behind the pulpit screaming and sweating railing at their congregations about the travesty of their sins and about the God who eagerly awaits his chance to dole out punishments so severe you leave your church on Sunday never knowing that Jesus came to Love, not to condemn. Sarah Davis taught me that Jesus sat down and ate with the undesirables. He never sent the children away. He spread grace and mercy everywhere he went--and example to us all, Christian or not, of how we should approach life, and how we should regard the welfare of our fellow man.
Never mind who Jesus was, or that we say we are his followers. Our fear of being wrong outweighs our duty to Christ to be his hands and feet, to serve our fellow man as if we were taking care of Jesus himself. We must find rationalizations for the evils we see perpetrated in the name of the law. Must we convince ourselves to believe the worst in others in order to feel better about the choices we've made? How else could we sleep at night, knowing we have failed at the most basic and most important commandment Jesus gave. We cannot love God with all our hearts and treat our fellow man with anything less than the love for our neighbors that he also commands.
I fear that instead of becoming experts at finding our own weaknesses and working hard to overcome them, the waves of truth are building momentum and as they gain speed, as they pick up momentum along the way, we will all find ourselves washed ashore beside our fellow human beings, moms and dads, lost children and the broken, life-worn elderly, the drug dealers and the addicts, each one as human as the next, each speaking their native tongues but hopefully, finally accepted, loved, understood. For it is only in the darkest of times that human beings tend to come together to face whatever evil threatens to harm them all. Right now we stand divided, but only now.
The tide is changing. The waves grow stronger with every truth revealed. We might all feel overwhelmed and heavy with the news of it all, but eventually, this turmoil will unite us. It must, or we will find ourselves consumed by our prejudices, never to embrace the entire human experience or richness with which it was intended from the beginning of time.
Friday, June 22, 2018
Monday, June 18, 2018
Escape
I do not know what it is like to live in constant fear of what my own country might do to me or my family. I do not know how it feels to live in a country whose government turns its head, blind to murder. Or I should say, murders, some of them orchestrated by people in the highest ranks of power. I never got in my car to drive to the store or to work, thinking I might not make it home because there's someone out there who is looking for a chance to kill me. I've never lived without enough food, never lay in bed at night and listened to machine guns and bombs going off all around me. My privileges are many and my experiences in life threaten to leave me with the impression that the rest of the world lives as I do.
As Americans, we tend to think that working hard and being a Christian is all a person needs to possess abundance. We have no reference point for real suffering or fear. We cannot fathom the urgency to escape the lives we worked so hard to build, just to save our lives and those of our children. Many of us possess no understanding of the world outside our own bubble of existence. We paint the whole world with the brush of our own reality, never considering that the neighbor across the street struggles with depression or that people all around the world go to bed every night in fear of what might happen to them before dawn. We see our privileges as "blessings," and our accomplishments as gifts from God. Meanwhile, somewhere in the Philippines little children are digging through garbage to find their next meal. Our obtuse view of the world hardens our hearts to the very real terror and suffering of other human beings, whether they live next door or in South America, Central America, or all the way across the world.
Information is at our fingertips, if we care to find it. In China, Korea, Russia, people only know what their government wants them to know, and often the information they get is manufactured to look like the truth when in reality, it contains nothing but lies. We have the freedom to Google anything we want, but how many people care to research why droves of people leave their lives behind them, their homelands, to seek asylum here.
Imagine for a moment, that sometime during the night tonight, your home is attacked by strangers. They burst in with guns and demand that you hand over all your money--everything in your bank accounts, your savings, whatever is in your kids' piggy banks, everything. Imagine that these people take up residence in your life. They move into your house and they tell you when you can come and go. They ration the food our of your own refrigerator. They constantly threaten your family. You live your life in terror, knowing when you go to bed at night that there are men with machine guns in your house who might decide to start shooting at any moment. Men have taken over your neighbor's houses too, so you can't just go there. The police are in on the whole deal--they know that people are living this way, but they do nothing about it. Imagine that one day you and your neighbors all get together secretly and decide to escape under the cover of night--you're going to the next state over where people live in houses where there are no machine gun wielding strangers guarding every door. So you pack up what little belongings you can carry and make the journey, a dangerous one through forests with no well-trodden pathways, where men in uniforms with weapons lurk in the shadows. You live in tents or sleep in the open for days because your journey is long and arduous, but you persevere because you just know that people who live in a state that values freedom and liberty will shelter you from the oppression of living in a house guarded by men who threaten your safety at every turn. You travel, hungry, tired, dirty. You lose a few neighbors along the way who were just not strong enough to weather the journey. Perhaps an elderly neighbor suffered a fall and couldn't continue on, a child falls sick and the family gets separated because someone has to stay with the child. Imagine the day you finally reach the Georgia state line! What relief and hope fills your heart! You are finally at the threshold of safety with the promise of a new life where fear and poverty do not define you.
Then you find out, Georgia doesn't want you. Georgia doesn't care that you are escaping a life of fear and oppression. Georgia thinks you're there to overcrowd their state, to steal jobs from current residents, to bring down their property values, and mooch off their taxes. Georgia can't be bothered with your sob stories, they are hard working Americans--Christians who go to church every Sunday. You aren't just unwanted, you are vilified, treated with disdain. You are corralled, separated from your children and told to wait. Wait for what? You don't know. You don't know what will happen to you or when you'll see your children again. You don't know who is caring for them or if they are upset or hungry or afraid. Georgia thinks this is best for you. Georgia doesn't care how you feel--this is not about feelings, it's about their tax dollars and your threat to their way of life.
I know, my attempt to reach you is lame. I realize I cannot create empathy in a person who lacks it merely by asking them to imagine something other than the sheltered lives they lead.
You can dress a hypocrite up in nice clothes and call him a good man, but he'll still be a hypocrite.
I'm afraid that's where we now stand, as humans, as a country, and as the Christians many claim to be. Perhaps compassion, empathy, kindness and love are the internal workings of the soul that cannot be taught. I believe they must be cultivated slowly over time, starting before we even put our bare feet to the floor and take our first wobbly steps. Is it ever too late to start the process? That's a question for which I have no answer. I only know what I hear and see around me.
You can call it politics, liberalism, bleeding heart Democrats, snowflakes whining about us not giving handouts to undeserving low-life trash; what it really is though, is sad. I'm not talking about politics here. I"m not talking about your religious beliefs or who you voted for in the last election. I'm not asking you to change your views on abortion or to make a comparison between abortion and separating families from their living, breathing children. I'm not referring to your opinion that I, as a Democrat, would be okay with a woman murdering her baby but bothered by what's going on with these children today or how your attempt at justifying what is happening by making that assumption or comparison proves your lack of understanding or empathy for other human beings.
I'm merely talking reality. The reality is, what's happening to people at the hands of America is wrong. It's wrong if you're a Democrat. It's wrong if you're a Republican. It's wrong if you're Baptist, or Catholic, or Agnostic or Atheist. It's just wrong, and no amount of pointing fingers or making justifications for it will ever make it right. So, if you're pro-life, shouldn't you care what is happening to these children? Is it a stretch for us to ask you to care? Should we stop caring about a child as soon as it's born? How is that Christian? How can anyone with a soul not care? I, as a human being care. Can I ask you, as a fellow human being to put aside your biases and put aside your political grudges long enough to see this human suffering for what it really is?
We are America. We can do so much better than this.
Here, I am leaving a link for you. It only vaguely describes what these people coming to America to escape from. I hope you will take the time to read it, ponder what it would be like to live under the threat of gang violence, government corruption, extortion, and the threat of murder. Imagine worrying whether your sons or daughters will be picked by some gang member to carry drugs for them, and given no choice in the matter. Imagine worrying about whether your sons will live another day. Imagine having a list of family members you've already lost to violence. And while you're at it, open your heart to the possibility that these truly are human beings who need safety and need shelter from the constant threat of death.
https://www.cfr.org/backgrounder/central-americas-violent-northern-triangle
As Americans, we tend to think that working hard and being a Christian is all a person needs to possess abundance. We have no reference point for real suffering or fear. We cannot fathom the urgency to escape the lives we worked so hard to build, just to save our lives and those of our children. Many of us possess no understanding of the world outside our own bubble of existence. We paint the whole world with the brush of our own reality, never considering that the neighbor across the street struggles with depression or that people all around the world go to bed every night in fear of what might happen to them before dawn. We see our privileges as "blessings," and our accomplishments as gifts from God. Meanwhile, somewhere in the Philippines little children are digging through garbage to find their next meal. Our obtuse view of the world hardens our hearts to the very real terror and suffering of other human beings, whether they live next door or in South America, Central America, or all the way across the world.
Information is at our fingertips, if we care to find it. In China, Korea, Russia, people only know what their government wants them to know, and often the information they get is manufactured to look like the truth when in reality, it contains nothing but lies. We have the freedom to Google anything we want, but how many people care to research why droves of people leave their lives behind them, their homelands, to seek asylum here.
Imagine for a moment, that sometime during the night tonight, your home is attacked by strangers. They burst in with guns and demand that you hand over all your money--everything in your bank accounts, your savings, whatever is in your kids' piggy banks, everything. Imagine that these people take up residence in your life. They move into your house and they tell you when you can come and go. They ration the food our of your own refrigerator. They constantly threaten your family. You live your life in terror, knowing when you go to bed at night that there are men with machine guns in your house who might decide to start shooting at any moment. Men have taken over your neighbor's houses too, so you can't just go there. The police are in on the whole deal--they know that people are living this way, but they do nothing about it. Imagine that one day you and your neighbors all get together secretly and decide to escape under the cover of night--you're going to the next state over where people live in houses where there are no machine gun wielding strangers guarding every door. So you pack up what little belongings you can carry and make the journey, a dangerous one through forests with no well-trodden pathways, where men in uniforms with weapons lurk in the shadows. You live in tents or sleep in the open for days because your journey is long and arduous, but you persevere because you just know that people who live in a state that values freedom and liberty will shelter you from the oppression of living in a house guarded by men who threaten your safety at every turn. You travel, hungry, tired, dirty. You lose a few neighbors along the way who were just not strong enough to weather the journey. Perhaps an elderly neighbor suffered a fall and couldn't continue on, a child falls sick and the family gets separated because someone has to stay with the child. Imagine the day you finally reach the Georgia state line! What relief and hope fills your heart! You are finally at the threshold of safety with the promise of a new life where fear and poverty do not define you.
Then you find out, Georgia doesn't want you. Georgia doesn't care that you are escaping a life of fear and oppression. Georgia thinks you're there to overcrowd their state, to steal jobs from current residents, to bring down their property values, and mooch off their taxes. Georgia can't be bothered with your sob stories, they are hard working Americans--Christians who go to church every Sunday. You aren't just unwanted, you are vilified, treated with disdain. You are corralled, separated from your children and told to wait. Wait for what? You don't know. You don't know what will happen to you or when you'll see your children again. You don't know who is caring for them or if they are upset or hungry or afraid. Georgia thinks this is best for you. Georgia doesn't care how you feel--this is not about feelings, it's about their tax dollars and your threat to their way of life.
I know, my attempt to reach you is lame. I realize I cannot create empathy in a person who lacks it merely by asking them to imagine something other than the sheltered lives they lead.
You can dress a hypocrite up in nice clothes and call him a good man, but he'll still be a hypocrite.
I'm afraid that's where we now stand, as humans, as a country, and as the Christians many claim to be. Perhaps compassion, empathy, kindness and love are the internal workings of the soul that cannot be taught. I believe they must be cultivated slowly over time, starting before we even put our bare feet to the floor and take our first wobbly steps. Is it ever too late to start the process? That's a question for which I have no answer. I only know what I hear and see around me.
You can call it politics, liberalism, bleeding heart Democrats, snowflakes whining about us not giving handouts to undeserving low-life trash; what it really is though, is sad. I'm not talking about politics here. I"m not talking about your religious beliefs or who you voted for in the last election. I'm not asking you to change your views on abortion or to make a comparison between abortion and separating families from their living, breathing children. I'm not referring to your opinion that I, as a Democrat, would be okay with a woman murdering her baby but bothered by what's going on with these children today or how your attempt at justifying what is happening by making that assumption or comparison proves your lack of understanding or empathy for other human beings.
I'm merely talking reality. The reality is, what's happening to people at the hands of America is wrong. It's wrong if you're a Democrat. It's wrong if you're a Republican. It's wrong if you're Baptist, or Catholic, or Agnostic or Atheist. It's just wrong, and no amount of pointing fingers or making justifications for it will ever make it right. So, if you're pro-life, shouldn't you care what is happening to these children? Is it a stretch for us to ask you to care? Should we stop caring about a child as soon as it's born? How is that Christian? How can anyone with a soul not care? I, as a human being care. Can I ask you, as a fellow human being to put aside your biases and put aside your political grudges long enough to see this human suffering for what it really is?
We are America. We can do so much better than this.
Here, I am leaving a link for you. It only vaguely describes what these people coming to America to escape from. I hope you will take the time to read it, ponder what it would be like to live under the threat of gang violence, government corruption, extortion, and the threat of murder. Imagine worrying whether your sons or daughters will be picked by some gang member to carry drugs for them, and given no choice in the matter. Imagine worrying about whether your sons will live another day. Imagine having a list of family members you've already lost to violence. And while you're at it, open your heart to the possibility that these truly are human beings who need safety and need shelter from the constant threat of death.
https://www.cfr.org/backgrounder/central-americas-violent-northern-triangle
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