Band-Aids

I feel so overwhelmed, so small, so inconsequential when it comes to the issue of justice for the oppressed. Just this past weekend I attended a Christian anti-human trafficking conference where I learned that the average cost for a human slave is only $90, visited Church Under the Bridge in Waco, Texas where I witnessed the profound physical need in our own communities, and finished reading One Thousand Sisters which details the atrocities against humanity currently occurring in the Democratic Republic of Congo and the surrounding African nations.

Evil abounds. Suffering preys on the weak. Death and Destruction are neighbors. The world is broken, and I lost my dime-sized Band-Aid.

I care deeply for the pain of the afflicted. Don’t get me wrong. It’s just that the human spirit can only handle so much stimuli. Starvation. Famine. Rape. Poverty. Genocide. Mutilation. Hate.

I recently hosted a conference on the relationship between technology and the Christian faith. The speaker made an interesting observation – as the world get smaller and more “glocal” we are increasingly confronted with tragedy and devastation. Think back to agrarian America in the 1800s. Your primary source of current news is word-of-mouth and the occasional newspaper you run across when you go into town to get supplies. Your world is limited, and thus so are the tragedies you empathize with or personally experience. If your neighbor’s barn burns down, the community rallies together and has a barn raising complete with a dinner of sweet tea and fried chicken to celebrate the end of a hard day’s labor. Since the suffering of which you are aware is generally localized, you have greater power to remedy the adversity.

Today my Yahoo homepage proclaims that the Pakastani floods have claimed more than 800 lives. Motivated by compassion and mercy, instead of being able to provide a room for a displaced family, serve breakfast at a local shelter, or hold the hand of a grieving mother, my only tangible acts of support from ten time zones away are prayer and monetary gifts.

Yes, I can entreat God to provide for those who are without, to protect those who are dislocated, and to bless each survivor as he or she seeks to rebuild his or her life. But can I be honest? Sometimes prayer doesn’t feel like enough. I’m convinced that I should be doing more to help. I feel compelled to physically act in tandem with the faith expressed in my prayers. After all, “He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with you God?” (Micah 6:8)

Thus, in my bewildered state where my heart feels almost numb upon hearing that a friend lost her mother and would appreciate a meal and where my mind coldly swims through the statistics surrounding the prevalence of child soldiers in Rwanda, what am I to do? As a Christian, as a woman, as a fellow human being outraged that your dignity and respect was stripped from you by brute force? How would you have me respond, Lord? What am I to do?

And so, I continue to study the Word, to reflect, to beseech God for personal direction, to read the works of others passionate about justice[1], and to breathe in of His goodness. For this I am sure of – one day evil will be vanquished. On that great day, God “will wipe every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain anymore.” (Revelation 21:4) All things will be made new, and at last I will have no need for my man-made Band-Aids.

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[1]

For anyone grappling with similar issues, I’d highly recommend Just Courage by Gary Haugen and She Did What She Could by Elisa Morgan.