a fork in the road

Sometimes truth, raw cutting truth hits you like a brick. It’s what you’ve been searching for all along, but acknowledging it is heavy. It means something. It requires change. Big radical life-changing change. Truth with a capital ‘T’ puts a fork in the road. We can either walk away from it or take a new path in light of that Truth and things will never go back to the way they were before.

I’ve been going through Matthew, (1st book of the new testament of the Bible) something I haven’t done since I was little. I’m learning that Jesus’ words are deep, almost painful. I claim to follow Him, but do I really know what that means? Maybe following someone is more than reading their words, its living that out. I have had conversations with people who aren’t sure about God ask me, “If there is a God, why is there so much pain and suffering in this world?” That’s something that’s bothered me for a long time too.

But maybe it’s because people like me with the education and resources don’t do anything about it.

Once I acknowledge that truth, there is no going back to the way it used to be. All this ‘stuff’ I have makes me sick to my stomach. Yeah, I might be a poor student with no steady income… But I still manage to eat (sometimes too much) and buy clothes (beyond the point of need) and seek entertainment (I certainly watch more TV or play on the internet more than I volunteer), and be caught up in MY life, this black hole of materialism and self… Maybe that’s where free will and all this injustice in our world ties together. Maybe God granted us free will, and some with material blessings to lavishly give to those who struggle.

God calls us to be good stewards of our talents (money, resources, time and intellectual gifts) Does that just mean not going into debt and buying in moderation? What about the people who worry about where they are going to sleep when it rains? Or can’t feed their family consistently? What about the generationally poor people? The beggars? The orphans? They have a bit more to worry about than “living in moderation.” Jesus doesn’t say “if you give…” He teaches us “when you give” (Matthew 6). He assumes we give. He commands it. It’s so true, He continues… Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. (Mt 6:21) So check your bank statements. Where is your heart at? I say I care so much about these kids, those who suffer, but on a material account I sure don’t give the majority of my resources to changing that. The Bible tells us to give 10% of our resources to the church. [Sad statistic, the average ‘Christian’ in America only gives 2-3% and the average person under age 25 is 0%... ouch] But it has to be more than that. We have to give more than just to the church. Our lives should be an outpouring. How much more if we are economically blessed?? How can I reconcile a just God when 30,000 children a day die of hunger?? How can I be ok with that? How can I be so numb? How can I be content to live in excess? In light of those dying and suffering when I dump out food everyday, how could I possibly be content frivolously spending ‘my’ money?

Something has got to change. If I start walking down this new path in light of His Truth, it can’t be how it was before. It’s not possible. Maybe compassion and justice is in our hands. Maybe we have to live fighting for this truth. Aren’t we all human after all? Don’t we all deserve the chance to live?

I’m not too young or too poor or too far removed to do something about this world’s inequality. Its simple math. Those who have a lot give a lot to those who have nothing and we all can have a little. It’s just hard to do. Money has a way of gripping our hearts, and this self-entitlement creeps in… “but I worked for it, but I deserve it” But I was also born into a family that lives in the wealthiest nation in the world, that can provide for me a roof over my head, food in abundance every day of my life and a college education.

HOLY COW. Someday soon my computer will break and my clothes will tear and all this material crap won’t mean anything anymore. But people do. People always matter, and people deserve to know Jesus through His followers who give generously and live out His gospel, because all we have is all we’ve been given after all.

And until I do something radical, it’s never going to change. I have to put the majority of my time and my resources into causes that honor the words of Jesus, serving and pouring my life out to those who suffer. “To whom much is given, much is required” (Luke 12:48). [Note that He does not say, much is asked, much is welcomed, NO it is expected as a follower of Jesus and is a requirement.] Maybe today is the first day I am truly living with the weight of that responsibility.

Someone hold me accountable; someone care; someone else be passionate about this with me and take this new path in the light of His Truth.

*seriously if you read this, please talk to me, this has shaken up my world and I want to do something, I want to change and I can’t do it alone*

a bit of Fallas

I potentially may have just lost my mind. Valencia is in uproar—a normally 1 million person city filled to 3 million with foreigners all over the globe. Every March marks a fiesta called Fallas. This provides a weeklong holiday from classes and most work where city divides into 385 small barrios and each builds a group of statues/puppets/monuments. The rich barrios can be enormous, up to 5-stories tall. These scenes depict a general satire on what is negative in society—corruption in politics, sexual perversion and general burlesque exaggeration. The artists spend all year designing and constructing them, and come Thursday they all burn to the ground. Absurdity, right? Apparently it symbolizes the removal of all that is bad, a cleansing process if you will. It is unlike anything I have ever seen. And naturally, the Catholic Church has to redirect these ‘pagan rituals’ and it is now considered “Día de San José” to celebrate the poor forgotten father of Jesús. The children and adults who are “falleros” wear fancy 1800s gowns, and have parades to offer flowers that construct a 40-foot tall Virgin Mary. Beyond the monuments and people, the fiesta consists of petardos y mascletas, the Spanish way to celebrate blowing up dynamite. It’s not uncommon to see 4-year-olds running around with not-so-small sticks of dynamite, ready to throw at an unsuspecting victim. The real problem is the borrachos (drunkards) with the firecrackers. It’s also a regular sight to see a large crowd running from a poorly placed whizzing firework. The noise level from about 9am to about 5am in the ‘night’ is next to horrific; imagine snare drums sporadically drumming the floor of the city. I find the only way to survive is to embrace the chaos, and abandon all ideas of normalcy.

The Spaniards use their fiestas to find a sense of belonging and build community. The entire city eats, drinks, and dances in the streets of their barrio, and my family does not disappoint. Our small flat which usually just houses my madre and I, hosts my host-brother, wife and daughter, and my host-sister, husband and two sons. Any shreds of order left upon arrival of my naughty little ‘nephews’. I find them regularly hiding my jewelry, drawing on my notebooks and bulletin boards and playing on my computer; as they are ages 4 and 6 it’s a wonder that it’s not all broken. Despite their mischief, I find myself enjoying my family, the noise level and the food and music filled streets. They have truly invited me into the intimacy and chaos that bonds a family and I could not be luckier. Last night my niece and nephew fought to tears over who could sleep in my room with me… In the end they shared a bed, and joined me. I admit I’ll breathe a sigh of relief when it’s all over but for now I am living and living deeply. This truly is my Father’s world, and the farther I get from stability the more my heart irrevocably becomes attached to a place and a people so strange and beautiful.
(Wed, March 15th, 2009)