All I'm Really Good For

This morning at LIFT Philadelphia I was working with a first-time client. We were doing the usual intake paperwork, going over her financial situation, family background and career goals. Somewhere along the way, I stopped to ask her, "If you could have any job right now, what would it be?"

"Oh, just some kind of cleaning," she replied sincerely. "That's really all I'm good for."

To me, that moment was a profound collision between my world and hers. For the briefest sliver of time, my sphere of privilege and opportunity clashed right up against a life with limits, realistic and inhibiting. For myself and fellow students, such questions of possibility are a part of daily thoughts: what do I want to be? what do I want to do? who do I want to become? We feel entitled to the world, which of course is ours for the taking. We are proud of our accomplishments, even though realistically we still haven't accomplished anything.

This mindset is by no means exclusive to this generation, and I don't even think it's a bad thing. There's no doubt that progress really only seems to be made by those who dream, who have the opportunity to seek more. But it's humbling to learn from those who seem to have stopped dreaming altogether -- those who see only as far as tomorrow while they try to make it through today.


Like this woman. We sat together at the same desk and shared an hour of each other's time. We are different in many visible ways -- age, race, gender -- and have done vastly different things during our lives thus far. But the most profound difference, the one that struck me this morning, is our ability to dream.

We both dream at night. But during the day, when the sun shines, when a child cries, when sadness reigns, when laughter overcomes, when sirens wail, when music soars, when solitude threatens, when company comforts, when loved ones pass, when new lives begin, when goodness overwhelms, when God is known, then what? What does she dream of -- for herself, for her children, for her community, for the world?

Or have the pressures of a difficult life robbed her of such vision?

I know my dreams. I know what it is to catch glimpses of God's glory that move me, to hear a song that stirs me, to see an image that captivates me, to read a book that shapes me. You probably do too. And I know what it is to dream in those moments.

But what do I dream of, how do I dream differently, for the sake of those who don't dream at all? For the sake of those who see little value in themselves, how do I see myself? How do you see yourself?

I don't know how to properly answer that question, except to remind myself and the world that there is a God who cares, a God who does more than dream, but a God who plans for all his children, from every tongue, tribe, and nation to bow before Him. For all all of them to live in perfect harmony and fulfillment for all eternity. There, with our divine purpose restored, we will no longer dream of something better, but live for something more.

It's easy, when exposed to such disparity and injustice, to become cynical and hopeless, never feeling like we are doing enough. But there is such solace in knowing that I serve a God who will one day completely restore this crazy planet -- in all its beauty and corruption, wealth and poverty, good and evil -- to something eternally perfect. But in the meantime we don't just twiddle our thumbs and wait for divine reparations to commence, we work out our salvation as Christ's hands and feet doing whatever he would have us do.

And because this is a debate that shouldn't be ignored, I am not making a call for "social justice." It's a call for Godly living, wherever that takes you -- to the pulpit, to the cubicle, or to the streets of Calcutta. And never lose the vision of something more.

Dream on,
jmb

The Missionary Impulse

 

This article was sent my way a few weeks ago. It's a piece about Laura Silsby, who, in the aftermath of Haiti's devastating earthquakes, tried to take some impoverished kids out of Port-Au-Prince to safety in the Dominican Republic. Sounds pretty harmless, right? One might even say it was downright nice of her. Well, they would have said that, except that she and her group got arrested at the border for trying to smuggle these kids out of the country without permission. Guess they should have thought of that. 

The story would have ended right there, had the media not found one additional fact -- Ms. Silsby is a Christian. Duh, duh, duh. Cue blinding spotlights and weeks of front-page drama. The ignorance! The hypocrisy! 

The torrential judgment that ensued fueled the writing of this article in the NY Times. So I'd encourage you to read it. My initial response is down below.

The Missionary Impulse -- The Opinionator

Well, first off I don't think anyone can deny that this is a pretty shameless case against Christianity, or at least Christian missions. But in my opinion, it's completely unfair and unwarranted. At least Ms. Silsby was doing something, motivated out of genuine compassion and following a biblical mandate to care for the oppressed. And, lest we forget, she was taking these kids to an orphanage. Reading some of these articles, one might think she was trying to take them home as slaves. If she had succeeded in her ill-guided scheme, remember the outcome would have been 30 kids nestled safely in warmer beds than the streets of Port-Au-Prince provide. Now that's not so evil, is it?
 

It becomes so easy to bash international Christian aid and mission efforts that have gone awry, and at the same time forget all the good that has been done by those same programs. Sure, perhaps the history of Christian missions is tainted by a few exceptional instances, but for every tragedy associated with Christianity, there has been much more good. For example, religious people consistently give four times as much to charity than any other group. And we should thank God for that, because, as that article points out, liberal atheists statistically don't give much to those in need.
 

I would argue that a few cases of ineffective (or even detrimental) Christian mission work does nothing to discredit two thousand years of caring for the poor and needy wherever they are -- the quiet servitude that will never make headlines. Of the hundreds of Christian volunteers who flooded into Haiti after the earthquake, 10 of them made some misguided attempts to help in the face of incredible suffering. The American media, in their incessant quest to find fault in "the righteous" blows the whole story into front-page material. In one of the greatest natural disasters in recent times, an unprecedented amount of relief work and aid flooded into a devastated nation with no strings attached. It's a story of unexplainable tragedy and compassion, yet the piece that snags the top spot is about one conservative Christian who made some mistakes.
 

So critical (presumably non-Christian) columnists point their fingers at one white American Christian woman who messed up, and, like in this article, inductively reason that Christian missions are a menace to society. The headlines also tell us that Tiger Woods is Buddhist. Hence, all Buddhists are selfish and sex-obsessed. Stalin was an atheist. So were the Columbine shooters. Atheists have done some bad things. So watch out for Atheists. They're a dangerous bunch.
 

I guess that's a little extreme, but I think it's also extreme to so vehemently antagonize this woman. I mean, nothing even happened. She got stopped, the kids were returned. End of story. Truth be told, the story isn't about kids being taken from Haiti. The story is about a Christian who isn't perfect.
  

I also think it would be a good idea for this evidently concerned columnist to perhaps redirect his energies to something more pressing. Say, the fact that hundreds of helpless Haitian kids are being trafficked out of Haiti as we speak. Turn the spotlight off a well-intentioned mishap before we completely miss the real tragedy.

As always, thanks for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts!
Peace and love,
jmb

O Canada!

I realize I'm a little late, but there's something I've been dying to say:

GO CANADA GO!

For any Canadian who lives somewhere outside Canada, these past Olympics were something extra special. After years of enduring mindless misconceptions and pleading with peers for recognition, the world has turned its heavy gaze on my home and native land. It's so thrilling that people finally care.

Yes, it's a bit bothersome that their focus is narrow and brief, but to witness the impression that Vancouver 2010 has placed on American hearts is touching. Equally touching was their disbelief that there could be less snow in Vancouver than in Philadelphia. Imagine that...

Yes, there is a country up there, and no, it's not exactly the same as America.

No, I don't live anywhere near Vancouver, but I agree with you -- it's beautiful.

The tune of O Canada is stuck in your head? Pretty catchy, EH? Let me teach you the words!

Yeah, we have a pretty good sense of humour. And fashion. Check out those scarves.

Wait, Michael J. Fox is Canadian!? Why, yes he is. And guess who else?

Oh and did you notice we're the best hockey players in the world?

I'm so proud to be Canadian. And from this side of North America, I can firmly attest that everyone was impressed by these games. I heard a few people, so moved by the friendly faces and beautiful landscape of these Vancouver games, exclaim, "I'm moving to Canada!"

So there you have it. The world may sometimes forget us in the political shadow of our giant neighbour, but there is nothing but love for the True North, strong and free!

My name is Josh. And I Am Canadian.

Photo Essay

Dearest world,

Here's a visual glimpse into my life... if the words just aren't cutting it.

This was our first major project for Design for Journalism. We were supposed to document a week in our lives in pictures, then edit and string all the images together to tell some sort of coherent story.

I'm not much of a photographer (I had to borrow a camera for this), but it was actually a lot of fun.
Enjoi,
jmb

check out 'the week.'

Snow and Stories

I opened up BBC World News online this afternoon and read the headline, "Snowstorm Paralyses U.S. East Coast." The article covered crippling damage that's been inflicted in major cities, including D.C., Baltimore, and Philadelphia. I also received numerous messages from friends and family back home inquiring about my experience (and safety) smack dab in the middle of all the calamity. There have been several deaths, power outages, and a whole lot of car accidents.

So what has my experience been? Well, to be honest, it hasn't been all that dramatic. I watched a foot of snow pile up outside my window, I saw a few cars slip a little on the street below, I took some cool pictures, I had some snow spray in my face and in my jacket, I got my socks wet walking to lunch. Yup. That's about it.

So if someone were to ask me directly, "You're in Philadelphia. What's it like? Is everyone alright?" I would honestly have to reply, "Um, yeah. Actually, it's not so bad."

Because that's my experience. That's my perspective. That's my story.

But it's not really true. Or, at least, it's not completely true.

I have a class on Wednesday nights called EcoUrban Footprints of Post-Metropolis Life: Examining an Integral Relationship of Natural and Social Ecologies in Urban Environments. No, I don't know what it means either. I doubt even the instructor knows. But regardless, we watched a fascinating lecture last class by an African author named Chimamanda Adichie about "the danger of a single story."

How often do we think we know everything? Or perhaps we don't think we know everything, we just don't bother to learn anymore, to dig any deeper. In this lecture, which I would highly encourage you to watch in its entirety, Adichie explains her experiences as an African woman and successful author in America -- the prejudices she endures and the misconceptions she deals with daily.

Her tone is gentle and even humorous, but her message is strong and sharp: don't be blinded by the single story. Do not think that your personal experiences or observations -- with people, countries, ideas, cultures -- have given you a full understanding. For instance, when Adichie moved from Nigeria to the U.S. for university, her classmates knew only the American story of Africa. They were shocked beyond belief to learn she grew up in a house, not a hut, was part of a city, not a tribe, and listened to Mariah Carey ... on a CD, no less.

I'm challenging myself to think the same way here in Philadelphia. Every person I encounter, whether they are homeless on the street or sitting next to me in class, has a story. And it's a story worth hearing, because these are people worth loving.

This storm is bad, but my eyes only tell me a portion of the truth. Likewise, that guy begging for money looks like a mess. His eyes are puffy, his clothes are dirty, and his face is scruffy. And the story I've been told about guys like this is that they're total bums who will use my spare pennies for drugs. But what else is going on here? What's his story?

I'm trying my best to learn new stories this semester. I've already learned a few, through troubled teens at tutoring and clients over at LIFT, and I'm greatly anticipating my furthered understanding of things I used to think I knew.

What it comes down to, I believe, is this. God's creation is too complex to be understood by a single story. There's always something more. Another perspective. Another story to be told. We can never see it all, and we never will. But God does. And praise Him for that. So let's try to see the world the way God sees it.

From Philly: A Quick Update

Greetings, good folk!

A lengthier report I would love to provide, but a succinct summation will have to suffice. I will confess that I feel a tad self-indulgent posting such detailed accounts of my activities and ambitions with the expectation that people will take time out of busy schedules to read them. But, I guess I don't feel that bad because I'm doing it anyway... ;)

It's been a wonderful two weeks since I first arrived in the city of brotherly love. I've been enjoying the luxuries of little accumulated schoolwork and few nagging commitments, though I'm getting anxious for more to do. That said, in addition to the ever-present excitements of exploration and the thrills of navigating a new school, I have these things upcoming...

I'll be hosting some Messiah chums on their J-term break this weekend.

A tutoring ministry at a church across the street is beginning next week, and I'll be there Tuesday and Friday evenings.

I'm going to help lead some of the worship at our weekly community gatherings (aka. chapel).

I'm contributing some articles for the Broad Street Journal, MCPC's* student paper.

I'm looking forward to church at Epiphany Fellowship again this week. It's a really neat place, with incredible music, a young congregation (ha not that that is any indication of a good church, it just helps us belong), and a really solid pastor who consistently delivers refreshingly biblical teaching. Apparently this pastor, Eric Mason, speaks with such respected Reformed preachers as as John Piper. I believe it.

And lastly, and probably most exciting..ly, there's this program called LIFT down the street from here that I might be volunteering a few hours with each week. It's an organization that partners homeless and low-income folks in the area with students from Temple. We work with them to provide services and help them find jobs, housing, etc. Needless to say, it sounds awesome.

Last lastly, classes are great.

As always, thanks for reading! Your prayers and concerns are greatly appreciated. Know that I'm praying for you too.
jmb

p.s. Here's something that really spoke to me today. Let us not forget what we're working for!

* MCPC = Messiah College Philadelphia Campus

Intro to Philly Time

There are too many "producers" out there for a little guy like me to contend with. It's way too easy for one to become a very invested "consumer" of opinions and information and quite quickly forget why one ever bothered to produce one's own content. But alas, here I go again. Thank you to the few of you that convince me I have something worthwhile to say.

I'm treated tonight to the steady whoosh of cars whizzing past, the shrill choir of sirens distant and near, and the discordant hollers of excited frat boys. It's an unfamiliar neighbourhood in a city different from and far from home. And yet, this place is home for the next few months. Welcome to North Philadelphia.

Something about leaving all that's comfortable for a new place leaves you exhausted -- mentally, physically, emotionally -- but oh so excited. It's the overwhelming new sights, sounds and smells; the fascinating people you meet for the first (and last) time; the swelling sense of accomplishment you gain as this strange place becomes a little more of who you are.

So that's where I'm at. I'm spending the spring semester of my sophomore year studying at Messiah's Philadelphia Campus. Philly is comparable in size to Toronto, but I'm quickly discovering how incredibly different it is. The "Jane & Finch" area of Toronto is reputed as a neighbourhood rife with crime and danger, the no-go-zone in the minds of suburban kids across the GTA. Well, now I've been supplanted into the middle of a city with its fair share of "Jane & Finches" and I can't wait for all that's in store.

The tranquility of Grantham is long gone for now. I'll be sure to face plenty of challenges along with everything else this semester, but you grow the most when you're uncomfortable. So bring it on.

I have plenty more I could say now, but I'll save all of that for future musings. So stay tuned!
God is good, all the time.
jmb