In Barrack Obama's memoir Dreams from my Father, he talks about the subconscious level of anger that builds within the heart a black person from the time of his/her youth, to adulthood. The first time that they are faced with the harsh reality of the unavoidable racism that exists in North America (or the world) there is a loss of innocence. And from then on, the oppressive anger builds inside them, whether they know it or not. A seemingly harmless joke, or even a TV show full of cliches, they all add onto the anger that is built around the labelled cage that a black/woman finds himself or herself in. A cage that, in this broken world, he or she may never get out of, regardless of how hard that person works to obtain wealth and status... For if an African American man achieves, he will be known to be the AFRICAN American man who achieves, but not simply for the man who achieves. What a frustrating and hopeless situation that must be...!
This anger that President Obama mentioned got me to thinking. I was driving through the downtown Eastside the other day and my boyfriend instinctly locked the car doors. Of course, I would have done the same. I looked outside the car windows onto the streets. Under the grey sky groups of people were gathered in street corners. Some of them were scattered along the roads. They looked tattered, unclean, and ... lost. I began to feel like I was watching them, as if with a pair of innocent young eyes looking curiously onto some animals at a zoo. Suddenly, I felt angry. I'm not sure if I was angy at my self, but I certainly felt that the etrocities of the downtown Eastside in our so called "Best city to live int he world of 200x year" was a huge irony staring right into my face. Should it not be an outrage that people are living like this? This is not a zoo! How is it that 15 minutes away we have multi-million dollar homes sitting on perfectly manicured lawns... people dumping out left overs on a daily basis (I am guilty to that one!), and here are these people - cold, starving, hungry, and most of all - they have been robbed of their integrity as humans. And I myself, contribute to this etrocity. I myself do not care enough, I choose to live my comfortable life knowing that just a short drive would take me to the most poverty-stricken area in the country. Perhaps the angry I felt was directly at myself afterall...
After the Opera the other night, we walked outside the theatre and passed an old man who was begging for money. I asked J if he had changed and he replied no. The night was chilly and we continued to walk. Yet, the bright blue eyes of the begger - a man in his late 50s or early 60s - or rather, the hollowness and lost look in his eyes, remained with me. And I just walked by... Yes, like I've done hundreds of times past beggers. In Canada, in Taiwan. Because, I simply don't care enough to stop and help. That man could be my father, my uncle, a friend. He should be surrounded by loved ones, perhaps children or grandchildren. Or at least, he should be warm and safe. Maybe it is the culture I come from that puts an emphasis on respecting elders, but there is something about watching an old man beg that just breaks your heart. You think, where did his life go? Who hurt him? What has he done to bring him to this place? I felt angry for him, I felt angry at myself for just walking by.
Social justice. In mandarin fellowship tonight we talked about how some maids are treated as sub-human, even by Christians with power and wealth. Whenever did the world become so cruel? And whenever did we come to accept this because "well, it's just the way things are and there ain't nothing much I can do about it." Is there not? Injustice is all around us. It is in our schools, our families, perhaps even in our church. And too many of us have stayed silent for too long. We have become complacent, just accepting things for the way they are. I myself am completely guilty. We cannot be pointing fingers, because we are the perpertraitors of the crime. All of us have been sinned against, and have sinned towards others. I am a hyprocrit for merely feeling compassion but not taking action, and for speaking of an ideal but treating people around me with no respect. I am so broken, can God still use me. Can I ever act out my compassion, or are my compassion thoughts merely a disguise for my self-righteousness. In the end, I have no one else to blame but myself. For I am far from perfect, and I have no place to judge. In my eye lays a large plank, and I have been running around pointing out the specs in others' eyes...
We are angry people. Some of us more than others. But the image of God in us demands justice and equality for all. A God who demands the extra care for the poor and the marginalized, the weak in spirit - the losers of the world. Even for those who do evil, for those who are indifferent, the anger builds in them unknowingly. Because it is the Evil one who is at work, but we are often so unaware his disguising ways.
This entry writes like a Psalm. And rightfully so, for God is the answer to everything. Only when I submit myself fully to him will he do his work with my hands. I'm sitting in my bed, writing these words with a passionate heart, but am I willing to give up the comforts that I have? The status? Aren't I always wanting more?
Truly, it is only in God will I find my strength and my purpose. And it is only in God that I will find the courage to suffer, the will and the love to serve. I end with this passage from Our Daily Bread. "He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope that he will continue to deliver us." - 2 Corinthians 1:10
This anger that President Obama mentioned got me to thinking. I was driving through the downtown Eastside the other day and my boyfriend instinctly locked the car doors. Of course, I would have done the same. I looked outside the car windows onto the streets. Under the grey sky groups of people were gathered in street corners. Some of them were scattered along the roads. They looked tattered, unclean, and ... lost. I began to feel like I was watching them, as if with a pair of innocent young eyes looking curiously onto some animals at a zoo. Suddenly, I felt angry. I'm not sure if I was angy at my self, but I certainly felt that the etrocities of the downtown Eastside in our so called "Best city to live int he world of 200x year" was a huge irony staring right into my face. Should it not be an outrage that people are living like this? This is not a zoo! How is it that 15 minutes away we have multi-million dollar homes sitting on perfectly manicured lawns... people dumping out left overs on a daily basis (I am guilty to that one!), and here are these people - cold, starving, hungry, and most of all - they have been robbed of their integrity as humans. And I myself, contribute to this etrocity. I myself do not care enough, I choose to live my comfortable life knowing that just a short drive would take me to the most poverty-stricken area in the country. Perhaps the angry I felt was directly at myself afterall...
After the Opera the other night, we walked outside the theatre and passed an old man who was begging for money. I asked J if he had changed and he replied no. The night was chilly and we continued to walk. Yet, the bright blue eyes of the begger - a man in his late 50s or early 60s - or rather, the hollowness and lost look in his eyes, remained with me. And I just walked by... Yes, like I've done hundreds of times past beggers. In Canada, in Taiwan. Because, I simply don't care enough to stop and help. That man could be my father, my uncle, a friend. He should be surrounded by loved ones, perhaps children or grandchildren. Or at least, he should be warm and safe. Maybe it is the culture I come from that puts an emphasis on respecting elders, but there is something about watching an old man beg that just breaks your heart. You think, where did his life go? Who hurt him? What has he done to bring him to this place? I felt angry for him, I felt angry at myself for just walking by.
Social justice. In mandarin fellowship tonight we talked about how some maids are treated as sub-human, even by Christians with power and wealth. Whenever did the world become so cruel? And whenever did we come to accept this because "well, it's just the way things are and there ain't nothing much I can do about it." Is there not? Injustice is all around us. It is in our schools, our families, perhaps even in our church. And too many of us have stayed silent for too long. We have become complacent, just accepting things for the way they are. I myself am completely guilty. We cannot be pointing fingers, because we are the perpertraitors of the crime. All of us have been sinned against, and have sinned towards others. I am a hyprocrit for merely feeling compassion but not taking action, and for speaking of an ideal but treating people around me with no respect. I am so broken, can God still use me. Can I ever act out my compassion, or are my compassion thoughts merely a disguise for my self-righteousness. In the end, I have no one else to blame but myself. For I am far from perfect, and I have no place to judge. In my eye lays a large plank, and I have been running around pointing out the specs in others' eyes...
We are angry people. Some of us more than others. But the image of God in us demands justice and equality for all. A God who demands the extra care for the poor and the marginalized, the weak in spirit - the losers of the world. Even for those who do evil, for those who are indifferent, the anger builds in them unknowingly. Because it is the Evil one who is at work, but we are often so unaware his disguising ways.
This entry writes like a Psalm. And rightfully so, for God is the answer to everything. Only when I submit myself fully to him will he do his work with my hands. I'm sitting in my bed, writing these words with a passionate heart, but am I willing to give up the comforts that I have? The status? Aren't I always wanting more?
Truly, it is only in God will I find my strength and my purpose. And it is only in God that I will find the courage to suffer, the will and the love to serve. I end with this passage from Our Daily Bread. "He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope that he will continue to deliver us." - 2 Corinthians 1:10
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