Where do you even begin with social justice? Immigration, trafficking, death penalty, disease, education, health care… they all come with a hundred different opinions and stances and perspectives. Anyone can prove anything, either way. There are so many statistics and news stories that it's almost impossible to know what is true or right. [ a very basic overview of some relevant issues ]
This is the second in a series of posts exploring the issues of social justice. I don't claim to be an expert, and this isn't really an academic resource, but rather a collection of stories-- a few beating hearts and faces to the flat and emotionless statistics we are all sick of.
Then again, a lot of times there are multiple solutions, and there is a lot to be gained from difficulty. Moreover, while we tunnel our vision thinking we have it all figured out and that our society was or is the picture of what should be, we best think again.
John 16 says that sorrow is the crucible of joy. Without pain and struggle we won’t ever fully experience the fullness of joy here on earth. This joy comes not instead of trial, but through it. [you will weep and lament, but the world will rejoice. You will be sorrowful, but your sorrow will turn into joy John 16: 20 ]
I love Jesus because of poverty.
I know that sounds weird and insensitive, but it’s true. The faith, contentment, love, and desperation I saw in an impoverished community changed my view of God. A lot of people see poverty and wonder how a loving God could truly exist. In poverty I see Jesus because I see people who know their need for a higher being.
Their createdness for worship.
and their humbleness that manifests the truest love.
It’s in places like America that bring me to doubt— how so many people can claim a god they only see occasionally. There is no dependence or mystically close spirituality— but rather loud prayers, Facebook posts and tv programs. It's the ones who trust for their very well being, their next meal and their childrens' education that know God with an intimacy we all long for.
She rode the bus with all the other students from their impoverished Honduran neighborhoods for a "fun day" with the North American mission team. It was the end of my first week out of America and my head was spinning with statistics and what I saw out my window as we drove through the city. I knew most of these kids were lucky to get one meal a day.