Trying for Justice: Personal Stories (Sonya Seng - June 16, 2020)

Observation, Perspiration or Inspiration: 

It’s been such a difficult time for many of us. The national spotlight on the deep sins of racism has shown the terrible burdens of Black American men, women and children and provoked godly tears and righteous anger.  

But it's also been blinding as waves of murderous violence and indiscriminate destruction have covered the country. I've been troubled to learn that some of the most influential justice activists are also expressly "committed to disrupting the Western-prescribed nuclear family structure". Whoa. I want to embrace the wounded without welcoming "Trojan horses". 

One way I'm trying to stand firm in this rapidly evolving chaos is to de-prioritize media consumption and re-prioritize personal justice stories. Textured. Imperfect. Local if possible. Like those of the families in our church fostering traumatized kids or friends who have adopted children irrespective of race. Of middle class friends who lived on the street for two weeks so they could love the homeless better. And I’ve wondered how my own spotty experiences might speak to our ongoing commitment to justice. In this spirit, I revisited an early, awkward moment I had. It was when I first felt the discomfort of pursuing justice and had to decide what to do with it. It’s what we might call in our faith community “a Bluewater try”.  It’s simply my story. And it includes ugly crying. I hope you'll enjoy it.

When I was 22 and a recent Stanford grad, I was in a serious dating relationship with my-now-husband Jordan. I had never spent a Christmas away from my family in Honolulu, but at this stage of the game it seemed reasonable for me to visit his family for Christmas in southern Oregon. At that time Jordan was living in East Palo Alto, California with 2 college friends, acting on what he felt was God’s direction to “minister to the poor”.  I lived 20 minutes away in Mountain View but spent large chunks of time in EPA. So I began to learn about justice, and how it played out socio-economically, racially and personally.

In 1989 EPA was a largely African-American, suburban ghetto with the nation’s highest per capita murder rate. The sound of gunfire and sirens was as common as barking dogs.  Shortly after moving into the beige, stucco house on Azalia Street, the guys came under the wing of Miss Lovie Lewis, a well-known matriarchal force in the neighborhood.
We sat for hours in her stuffy front room, getting to know the burdens she worked against and the many people she loved and helped. The rusted fans chided that this kind of heat could not be dissipated, only pushed this way and that; but we shared her faith that God could change the climate.  Lovie opened her missional, mother’s heart to us. She brought us to her church, where, dressed to the hilt, we respectfully swayed and clapped our hands for the 3-4 hour service. She taught us her one-two punch of tough love followed by the endless soup pot, liberally seasoned with “Accent” brand MSG.  She was aptly named, embodying faithful, long-suffering love.

When they weren’t working their daytime tech jobs, the guys ministered and made a way for the rest of their friends to get involved. They built a shower in the backyard and opened it up for the neighborhood’s homeless to clean and find some dignity. Many men were invited to live in the converted garage and several women received temporary shelter in the main house. We cooked up hearty soup and sandwiches which were regularly distributed from the less-than-pristine bed of Jordan’s little white pickup – some things never change. The hot meal was served messily into paper bowls and passed out on the sidewalk to a regular crowd, and sometimes dinners were hand-carried into the dark crack dens at the abandoned lot, which the cops largely avoided. There was always a sense of danger and improvisation.
The guys learned to disarm violent men, carry peace where doors were bullet-ridden and pray for addicts. I didn’t like that Jordan’s favorite running route along the Baylands was also the best place to dump dead bodies. But they called it home. (One of Jordan’s old roommates has lived in EPA to this day. He godfathered Lovie’s young nephew, supporting him through private highschool and making his dream of entering the police force possible.)

Meanwhile at our home church on the other side of the tracks in wealthy Palo Alto, we worshipped alongside pioneers of the internet and old, Jesus hippies. 

We proposed hosting one of the church’s weekly "kinship" groups at the EPA house; these groups met for prayer, Bible study and fellowship. Leaders discouraged our attempt saying, “you’re nuts – no one’s going to cross the 101 to go a kinship group in EPA.” But by the time we left the area, it was the biggest group in the church with up to 52 people attending the dynamic weekly gathering. It was the first group Jordan and I ever led together and, though diverse, was deeply bonded by a rare sense of fellowship. We spent a long season studying racial reconciliation together and practiced “identificational repentance”, asking one another for forgiveness for atrocities committed by our various people groups, Black, White, Asian and Latino. The weekly gathering became well known on the block. Friendly drug dealers would spot clueless looking people driving slowly down the street, realize they weren’t there to buy, and give them directions to “Jordan, Steve and Erick’s house”.

So, it was in the middle of this great effort that Jordan and I were also moving toward marriage, our own little cultural collision.  After all, he was a working class, White boy from a rural town, and I was a wealthy Asian girl from a big city.  And now his calling to minister to the poor, and by extension to heal racial wounds, was starting to push against my comfort zone. Because of my Christian faith, I was eager to participate but was so unfamiliar with the whole scene. Then Christmas came. 

We decided to host a little Christmas Eve dinner for some of the Azalia house regulars before driving to Oregon on Christmas morning, to spend our first Christmas ever together! Jordan’s roommates had headed off to Seattle and Kansas City earlier for the holidays so it was just him and me.  I was excited to be working as a ministry team – serving the poor together on Christmas. What could be more romantic and spiritual? We made a spaghetti dinner. I was used to parties of a certain type and busied myself with decor, drinks, plates and utensils. But from then on I found the night extremely trying.

For a time I tried to make meaningful conversation with our guests, mostly homeless, black folk. But I couldn’t seem to come up with anything that led anywhere. And they seemed to have no category for relating with me either. Particularly because it was Christmas, I wanted the evening to be a particular way. I mean, this wasn't the street-side soup and sandwich distribution. But beyond the plates of food, there wasn’t a whole lot more to say. I was a fish out of water. We may have sung a Christmas carol or two – which meant, Jordan and I sang them. Finally, scrambling for a way to make a connection, I found paper and scissors and began showing two really loud, messy, pregnant gals how to make paper snowflakes. 
They were streetwise way beyond anything I could imagine, but the only way I could relate with them was to do a child’s craft. Over and over and over and over again. And over.  Again. Whee. So much fun. At least we made a lot! We taped them to the large bay window under the string of white lights. Then the ladies fell asleep on the floor amid their dirty dinner dishes, tomato sauce on the carpet. I kept my happy game face on the whole night but I was completely exhausted from the effort. We cleaned up around our guests and then Jordan, observing my distress, prudently sent me to the most distant bedroom to sleep so no one could disturb me.

The next morning, we hugged our guests goodbye and watched them lumber down the block. We closed up the house and started the 7 hour drive north. I cried about 6 hours of the ride, angry, ashamed, afraid and disappointed. Merry Christmas. The process of resolving these feelings was both mystifying and educating – and honestly continued long into our married life. I wanted a romantic first holiday away with my boyfriend and I had idealized that serving the poor could easily accommodate that. But I'd overestimated my social limitations, underestimated my personal preferences, ignored factors of time and energy, and got blindsided by the unpredictability of working with another mere mortal. I was pretty naive.

That Christmas started my recognition of my own “sacred cows” which included feel-good family time and fanciful holidays. That Christmas was my first opportunity to sacrifice one of them. (And I haven’t even talked about the interesting time I had the rest of the week with Jordan’s family.) And that Christmas was a powerful lesson that a “try story” can be meaningful even if you can’t “put a bow on it” yet.

Two more short, related, personal stories.

First, Hyde Park.  A month after we were married, Jordan and I moved from California to the notorious South Side of Chicago so he could get a Ph.D. He began in Race Relations and moved into International Security Studies. But living on the South Side for seven years was like getting a double Ph.D. in both race relations and security studies. South Chicago was far worse than EPA for its massive size and long history of black poverty and ongoing violence. The oppression was palpable. 

For 4 of those years, we lived 5 doors down from Louis Farrakhan, founder of the unabashedly violent, black supremacist Nation of Islam and a constant presence due to his 24/7 armed guards on the street. In the neighborhood, students were regularly mugged. I learned to don a hard game face in order to survive in public and not get harassed but I was a wreck; really we both were. I began looking for a way out. Maybe a cute apartment on the north side, close to safe cafes and theaters? 

But I had the very strongest impression that God wanted us in Hyde Park, so I sacrificed my cows of safety and beauty, and stayed put. I walked our dog daily in front of Farrakhan's guards, got pushed off the sidewalk by African American teenage girls and hurried past Polish construction workers heckling “China Doll!” at me. 
And I did my weekly wash at the corner laundry, admiring the exquisite braids of the scampering, black children, their young mothers sparing no effort with their colorful beads and clips while chatting and laboring under giant loads. I learned from those seven long years that there are super saintly people and super twisted people in every color, so I’m not free to wave the banner of any one race. And I have no pride over my own efforts there because I whined so much and was not strong in so many ways. I simply marvel that when we left Hyde Park at age 31 we had somehow, unintentionally, planted a neighborhood church. It had a racially diverse core, a girl from Korea, one from Africa, several Jersey kids, a well-pierced Vietnamese girl from LA, and a band of white boys known as “Dickey’s Funky Love Bomb”.  The day Jordan and I loaded up our moving truck and drove away, we were very tired. I may have even shed tears again, this time of relief. But that beautiful church has continued to grow, 20 years strong now, worshipping humbly and joyfully across race and class.  What else could God plant right in the middle of our fears and discomfort?

Lastly, SEED. Eight years ago, I was the general manager of Bluewater’s justice restaurant, SEED, which we created to employ trafficking victims and former prisoners. It was time to “try justice” again.  I had to put on my big girl panties to tough-love some very rough people with minimal skills and horrific personal issues. A good percentage of these hires were racial minorities, Hawaiian, Micronesian, and African-American but everyone, including myself and our team of volunteers, was dealing with areas of brokenness. Everyone needs the healing grace of justice. 
I had to learn about administering urine drug tests and bear the responsibility and frustration of firing those who came to work high or who didn’t show up at all. I still have PTSD from the 5am text that for the 3rd time, the Micronesian kid, one of 9 children and a new father himself, wasn’t going to make his shift.  I was going to have to fire him AND tell Jordan to get his SEED shirt on and go wash dishes. I was regularly late picking up my kids from school. Some days, I worked until 2am trying to help our team to clean the greasy floor from hell. I had to humbly ask friends for money when our equipment failed and I suffered a lot of well-placed YELP wounds.

Lives WERE changed for the better. The 60 year old, Hawaiian convict who worked at SEED after serving a 20 year sentence. The 50 year old White mamasan who came to us after 30 years on the Waikiki track. Still, the personal costs were massive and the eventual failure of SEED as a business was devastating for a lot of people. Pain over the venture simmered in our marriage for a long time, too. It was like ugly crying all the way up to Oregon again but a much longer drive. When can you tell if an awkward and costly try for justice is worth it?

These 3 snapshots of some of my “tries” are just that. Freeze frames. Like an embarrassing picture of you chewing mid-bite while something is also in your eye. Our "tries" show beautiful humanity but also cringy incompleteness. They remind me that I am not the author of my own faith, nor of any ultimate justice on earth. But God is, Hebrews 12 says. He calls all of us to participate, to try. Maybe all of our freeze frames will connect masterfully one day. But according to Isaiah 9, only Jesus' reign can establish and sustain justice for us:

“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end, on the throne of David and over his kingdom, to establish it and to uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time forth and forevermore.”

When Christ returns to this wounded world, his perfect justice will, I think, bring ugly crying as has never been seen on earth. There will be tears of the most bone-chilling sorrow and tears of unimagined joy and long-delayed relief.  And every knee, from every class and color, will bend in worship.

Until then, will I do my part and keep trying? I hope so.

A Prayer:

Lord Jesus. You know what complete justice will look like and it's beyond what I could dare approach in my sinfulness. Yet through the Cross, you made a way for us. Help me to work for justice without judging anyone else, even myself. Thank you that you will cover my costs in the end. Lord, strengthen each person who is doing their level best to live just lives. Show me how to encourage the best in those around me. Amen.

An Idea:

Don't watch the news today. Instead do something healing that can become good news.

The Humbler (Ben Fowler - June 12, 2020)

Observation, Perspiration or Inspiration: 

In his book, The Road to Character, David Brooks writes about two competing sets of virtues in the human heart; the Resume virtues and the Eulogy virtues.

Resume virtues are things we put on our resumes. The skills we bring to the marketplace. They are less about our character and more about our accomplishments. Eulogy virtues are the things said about you at your funeral. Things about your character; Were you bold, loving, dependable, consistent, kind, generous, and humble?

When I think about someone who exemplifies the Eulogy virtues, I am reminded of one of my favorite people, my landlord Cindy.

Cindy was born into war torn Laos in the 1940's, she has seen her share of struggle. She lived through two wars (Korea, Viet Nam). Cindy escaped Laos after the war and made it to Hawaii with 100.00 in her pocket. She worked her way up the ladder, raising 5 children on her own, and became a small business owner. She fed her children, bought her first home, and overcame all odds by the sweat of her brow, literally. She owned her own farm in Mililiani for over 30 years and worked the Farmers Markets before they were cool. She is my current hero. 

Because of her struggle, she knows the pain of others. She is full of empathy, built into her from years of hard work and responsibility. Now every time she sees someone in need, she wants to help. She has helped me many times. In fact, she has a super power, she humbles everyone around her. I call her The Humbler. 

People like her, those rich in the Eulogy virtues, hover around our world, bringing a quiet humility and a listening ear. They are not boastful. They don't say much but when you're around them, you are aware you have a problem. You realize you are transfixed on yourself, your ambitions, and your own little world. You are humbled in their presence.

The frantic pace of this internet induced world has rewarded the resume virtues but we are not fooled. We know that in the end all that matters is not what you did but how much you loved and were loved by others. In the end, the Humblers win out.

What does it profit a man if he gains the whole world but loses his soul? Mark 8:36

Prayer:

Lord, let us be more like you. As we care about the lasting things, the things that have eternal value, may we inspire those around us. Lord send Your Humblers to keep us honest. Amen. 

An Idea:

Let us encourage those that are rich in character, humility, and the eulogy virtues. Let's celebrate what God celebrates, not just the things that are fading away. 

The Heart of the Question (Elijah Yip - June 10, 2020)

Observation, Perspiration or Inspiration: 

Growing up in the ‘90s, I remember the Christian catchphrase “What would Jesus do?” explode in popularity.  WWJD bracelets were in vogue with Christian youth groups.  Ah, the ‘90s …

WWJD bracelets might have fallen out of fashion, but “What would Jesus do” still gets asked quite a lot in some shape or form.  It’s a fair question.  If you’re a follower of Christ, wouldn’t you want to know what your leader thinks about any given situation?

Answering the question can be tricky, though.  Humility is key.  We might think we know how Jesus would act because we’re students of Scripture.  We’ve read what Jesus has done, so we can just extract principles from those accounts and apply them to our situation right?  Yes, but if we stop there, we might just miss something.

WWJD, if asked in earnest, is supposed to glorify a person, not principles.  That person is Jesus.  Reducing Jesus to a set of propositions, even true ones, doesn’t adequately capture who he is.  Would it be fair to sum up your friend by describing her as “the one who loves donuts” or “the one who’s always late”?  Both statements might be true, but surely there’s more to your friend than that.

The personality of Christ is complex and nuanced.  Should we expect anything less of an infinite God?  Assumptions bred by familiarity stifle revelation about the richness of Jesus’ character and power.  Jesus found little honor in his hometown because the folks who grew up with him assumed they knew who he is.  Sadly, they missed out on knowing Jesus as God. 

WWJD is less about obeying conversation-ending commands and more about dialoguing with the Master.  It’s an invitation to intimacy.  Here are some conversation suggestions for talking to Jesus to get to know him better:

• What’s the Father doing?  Jesus said he does nothing except what he sees the Father doing (John 5:19).  So what’s the Father up to?  What’s his agenda for the situation at hand?  It might differ or transcend the issue prompting us to ask WWJD.

• Don’t underestimate what Jesus can do.  WWJD isn’t simply a morality question.  It’s also a question of power.  What Jesus can do affects what he would do.  Sometimes the range of responses we deem appropriate is shaped by limits we place on God’s power.  We think, “this must be the right choice because there’s no other way.”  What should you do with a hungry crowd of 5,000 staying late to listen to Jesus teach?  The disciples thought the right thing to do is send the crowd away because they didn’t have enough money to feed them.  What did Jesus do?  Tell the disciples to feed them and then proceed to multiply food miraculously.  Jesus’ supernatural power shaped the response.

• What’s the character of Jesus?  Acting like Jesus means aligning with his character.  Even if an action has a ring of righteousness to it, if it’s out of step with Jesus’ character, that’s a red flag.  For example, Jesus is life-giving.  (John 10:10).  If a response to an action destroys life, consider if it’s right in Jesus’ eyes.

• Why do you ask?  The answer to WWJD cannot be separated from the motivation behind the question.  Do we ask out of a sincere desire to please the Father’s heart?  Or are we wielding the question as a rebuke to bring others in line with personal notions of how Christians ought to act?  What would Jesus do with those who are “out of line?”

Prayer:

Jesus, we want to know you better.  Thank you that you reveal yourselves to others who draw near to you.  We need you more than ever, and we come close to you so that our heart might become like yours and that we might show your love to a heartbroken world.  In your name we pray, Amen.

An Idea:

Read about the fruit of the Spirit in Galatians 5:22-26 and prayerfully meditate on it.  How is God ministering to you after his heart?  How can you minister to others after his heart?

God's Heart For Justice and What That Means For Me (Larissa Marks - June 8, 2020)

Observation, Perspiration or Inspiration: 

This past weekend Steve and I, along with others from our church community, participated in a peaceful protest and march in Honolulu. With a crowd that was estimated to be around 10,000 people, we prayed and walked in support of racial justice, equality, and an end to systemic racism in our nation. It was powerful to grieve the racial inequality that continues to plague our world, speak out blessings of truth and love, and move with a host of others in longing for healing and shalom.

Justice is a felt need in our world today. But what is justice, exactly?

This video offers a great exploration of the biblical theme of justice, and considers how it's deeply rooted in the story-line of the Bible that leads to Jesus: Justice by the Bible Project

Micah 6:8 from The Message says this:

But he’s already made it plain how to live, what to do, what God is looking for in men and women. It’s quite simple: Do what is fair and just to your neighbor, be compassionate and loyal in your love, and don’t take yourself too seriously—take God seriously.

In the midst of many voices calling for our attention, God makes it plain for his people. Live justice. Live compassion. Live humility. It's simple, but dare I say, not easy?

If it were easy, we'd have it all figured out. But nope, the world is full of injustice. And for those that are seeking to live justice, it can quickly becoming overwhelming. Where do I begin? What impact can I have? What does living justice mean for me? 

As I meditate on Scripture, consider our current culture and the call of believers in this place and time, and prayerfully listen to God, here are a few personal convictions I have about living justice:

• I must not harden my heart. When I feel things like grief, anger, passion, or disillusionment, my heart is at a crossroads. I can allow these things to prompt my heart to soften to Jesus and his way. Or I can allow these things to cause my heart to harden and turn away from God and others. I choose to stay open and teachable before God.
• I am on my own personal journey. I am primarily responsible for myself. So if I am committed to living justice, I must primarily work on myself, and focus on my personal learning, growth, and actions. 
• I am interconnected with others on this journey. While my words and actions are up to me, my words and actions also impact and influence others. The faith life is done in community with others. I must look for mentors along the journey to lead and teach me. And I must look for ways to disciple others in the journey as well.
• If I listen to God and pay attention to the stirrings of my spirit, I will know the next step. What is God saying to me about living justice today? How is the Holy Spirit prompting me to act? What area of justice work is my heart being moved by? I need to reflect on these questions, and respond with great faith. If I listen to God and take the next step, I will continue moving in the journey toward justice with God.

Let us remember the power and presence of God in us today. We go as ambassadors of the Kingdom of God, with the authority to extend love, righteousness, justice, and mercy in a world that so desperately groans for more. Let's do that today.

Prayer:

God bless those who are discouraged. God bless those who are grieving. God bless those who are suffering. God bless those who are desperate. God bless those who care. God bless those who create peace. Amen.

An Idea:

What is God saying to you about living justice today? How is God prompting you to actively pursue and extend justice? 

Called to be a Peace Maker (Angie Gibbons - June 5, 2020)

Observation, Perspiration or Inspiration: 

I am compelled by the Biblical concept of being a peacemaker. It’s the word that keeps bouncing around in my brain this week, as I grieve over the death of George Floyd among many others, and process the unrest in the US.

As someone who has battled anxiety, I write and talk a lot about overcoming it and getting to a place of peace. But peace MAKER. That’s an active role, an outward role in the world. How do we make peace?

It reminds me of the movie Castaway when Tom Hanks was stranded on that island and finally lit a fire after trying many different rudimentary tools and techniques. (Yes, I have a thing for Tom Hanks movies apparently). He joyfully danced around, “I made fire! I made fire!”

But did he really MAKE fire or just create the right atmosphere for it?

In the same way we are not the originators of peace (God is) but we can create the conditions for it. And boy, does our world so desperately need peace! Our dinner table conversations need peace. Our family relationships need peace. Our neighborhoods need peace. We seem in awfully short supply lately.

One of the things I have been most convicted about this last week is seeking my own comfort more than seeking to pursue peace for others (Hebrews . And this is an important shift. God has so many good things for us to enjoy in this life, but he’s calling us to something higher than that. He’s calling us to carry what he gives us to a broken world.

So how do we make peace?

Here are a few ideas.
 

• Pursue it relentlessly for ourselves. We have to know it to give it. Platitudes won’t work.
• Build others up, instead of seeking to be right or seeking our own gain, even when we disagree. (Romans 14:19)
• Choose daily to live our peace outside our homes, to let it overflow to those around us. 
• Choose peaceful words and actions over divisive ones in our relationships, even when we must speak the truth in love.
• Look for ways to bring peace to others practically - such as giving of our resources to those in need, seeking to elevate others.
• Ask Jesus daily for wisdom for each conflict we face. He is the Prince of Peace.

Matthew 5:9 implies that we will have to work for peace, but it is part of our calling as children of God. We don’t get to sit this one out or wait for others to show up. We have been equipped to carry it. So let’s do it.

Questions:

What is one area in my own life where I most see a need for peace - work place, family relationships, neighborhood, spouse, friendship, organization?

In addition to committing to praying for peace, what can I do to be a beacon of peace in that place?

The Cloud - (Ben Fowler, June 3, 2020)

Observation, Perspiration or Inspiration: 

When the little child rose from her chair to go to recess, she knew it would be outside waiting for her.

It was a sunny day. A month before summer break. The playground teeming with other children; running, laughing, playing on their phones, sunshine on their shoulders. But directly over her head, the second she stepped out of the building, was a cloud.

This girl was special. Everyone loved and admired her. She lit up a room with her smile. All this promise. All this talent. All at 9 years old. She hoped someday she’d be famous. That summer she was planning on building her Tik Tok following. Maybe that would break the cloud. 

Her father worked the early shift so he could pick her up from school. He was her hero. They would talk about what she ate for lunch and stop for an ice cream cone at McDonald’s on their way home... "Don't tell your mother." But that day, they looked back and saw the blue lights flashing and pulled over to the side of the road.

“License and Registration”… “Yes, officer. I’m reaching into the glove compartment to get my papers.” "Where were you headed?” … “I was heading to McDonald’s with my daughter.” “Sir, step out of the vehicle” … “What did I do wrong?" "I said, step out of the vehicle."

Thirty minutes later. After six other officers arrive at the scene. Background checks complete. The daughter still in the passenger seat. The father re-enters the SUV. He starts the engine. Staring straight ahead. Silent. Seething. They drive. When they got home, she looked up and there it was, the cloud.

Although the cloud was plain as day to her, usually, only others with their own cloud could see it. Occasionally, someone who didn't look like her, could see it... but it was rare. It followed her around like the moon follows a car at night. Except, in her neighborhood it was always sunny-out, and everyone else enjoyed unimpeded warmth. 

One day, clouds began to form over her city. And the people who could see them began to grow in number. Something in the heavens broke and there was a thunderstorm. Then came the flood. No one could keep dry. For some, it was ok because they were used to the rain and the clouds. But others were not ready, because they had never seen clouds before. Now everything was in ruins. The whole city needed to be rebuilt. Everyone still in shock, began the work of restoration.

As the years passed, she didn't lose her spirit. She sped as fast as she could, trying to outrun the cloud. Occasionally she would tire. Or she would get pulled over. But alas, she began to feel the sunshine. She could not be overshadowed forever. Her heart had grown too strong. Even without the sunlight... she managed to keep her glow. 

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

-Matthew 5:3-5, 9

Prayer:

Lord, break on through. Break through the clouds. Break through the darkness.  We pray for your will to be done swiftly as we move through this storm. Comfort those who mourn. And empower us to support and care for one another. Maranatha. Amen.

An Idea:

Keep praying for God to show us what we can do personally. Keep praying for wisdom. Keep vigilant as the time draws nigh. 

What Will We Do With Our Preexisting Conditions? (Brenda Jo Wong - June 1, 2020)

Observation, Perspiration or Inspiration: 

We’ve gone through over two months of “staying at home” in Hawaii and now things are opening up! I’ve reflected a lot on our “preexisting conditions” before this pandemic. People with underlying health conditions, especially among the elderly have been more vulnerable to the virus and many have died.

This pandemic has also revealed other preexisting conditions, like the increased vulnerability of the poor with limited health care, testing and inability to social distance in their housing, transportation, and essential jobs, which expose them more to the virus and death.

We also see the preexisting conditions of racism and unjust systems. Recently, the Navajo nation has the highest per capita infections and deaths in the US. I had the privilege of visiting the Navajo reservation years ago and could not believe their living conditions. One third of the Navajo nation still do not have running water.

In many major cities, more brown and black people disproportionately suffer from the virus and have died and more Hawaiian and Blacks live in poverty and are in prison.

Men with machine guns are allowed to openly protest at the capital while Ahmaud Arbery, an African American man was shot and killed while jogging near his home. This week I was sad to hear about the death of George Floyd, another unarmed Black man who experienced unnecessary police brutality. It grieved me to see three other policemen, including an Asian officer, not caring that this man was being choked under the knee of their colleague. How might you feel if this man that died was your brother, uncle or father? On the same day, I heard that white woman called the police and told them a Black man is threatening her life when he simply asked her to put her dog on a leash as the park requires because he was birdwatching. There are countless stories of unjust deaths in the Black community.

I was thankful to watch the 5 hour Asian American history series but felt sad to see the many types of racism against Asians. Currently, Asian Americans have been targeted with racist incidents as they are blamed for the virus. I’ve also grieved about racist attacks in China against Africans who live there.

What will we do with our preexisting conditions? Many are working hard to stay heathy, but what about the more difficult things that are being exposed? It’s tempting to deny or ignore what we see more clearly about the unjust systems and racism. I was a Recreation and Leisure studies major in college and recognize my privilege and preference to stay comfortable, far from the pain of injustices that happen every day. But I’m thankful that God is giving me his heart for the poor and oppressed. I don’t have answers but our God of justice cares deeply about this and invites us to care and share his heart for all who are hurting, especially those who suffer from poverty and racism. God also calls us to forgiveness and reconciliation which is the heart of the gospel.

God is inviting us to seek truth and deeper lament as we learn of these injustices. We grieve because our brothers and sisters in God’s creation are in pain! Why are some Hawaiians willing to risk everything to save Mauna Kea and Hūnānāniho (also called Sherwoods)? God invites us to take time to listen and learn from people that are different than ourselves even when it is uncomfortable, and to weep with those who weep. God invites us to share his heart of compassion because we have the honor of belonging to the God of all compassion. As God speaks to us about a broken and unjust world, he calls us to respond.

Prayer:

Thank you Lord that you are a God who cares deeply about justice, the poor and oppressed. It’s so uncomfortable for us to enter the world of those who feel the pain and effect of injustice. Come and change our hearts to weep with those who weep. Give us a bigger heart to repent from racism and encourage our world to so the same.

An Idea:

Some of the marginalized groups in Hawaii and the US that are suffering include Hawaiians, Pacific Islanders, Native Americans, African Americans and Latinos. Take some time to be open and learn more about the injustices they are experiencing. Pray and let God bring you into deeper lament. Ask him how he is calling you to respond and obey what he reveals to you. As we love our neighbor as ourselves, we will know God in a more intimate and powerful way!

I’d like end with these verses

Psalm 22:24 “For he has not ignored or belittled the suffering of the needy. He has not turned his back on them, but has listened to their cries for help.”

Micah 6:8 ‘What does the Lord require of you, to act justly, to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.”