In Ghana, and on the way..

I am finally here! The flight was long- from leaving my house in Mississauga to getting to the University where I am staying was about 24 hours, although the plane rides wern't that bad, maybe 12 hours total. the rest was just layover and baggage checking.

We were in Amsterdam for the layover- some of the people I was traveling with decided to go into town, so we managed to make out way, at 7 am (the middle of the night in Ontario) through the city, without a map, ate some fresh pastries, chilled in a park for a half hour and then walked, the long, lost way, back to the train. Total we walked about 3 hours- which killed my feet and back as I was carrying all my carry on luggage, but it was worth it, the city was beautiful.

Now I am in Accra. The city is much like any city would be, malls and tall building and lots of roads and cars. People get around here in Tro-tros; these bus-like vans that people crowd into and a guy hangs out the side while its driving to tell you where they are going so you can hop on. The people are beautiful here- its sunday, so all around campus the students are in the nicest clothing! The girls are either in beatutiful, patterned dresses, or jeans. we have on capris and backpacks and are taking pictures.. i suppose a group of white people looking like that will stand out for a while, but hopefully soon we will some-what fit in!

I just wanted to say I have arrived safe and sound, and will be in touch soon. I will probably have more internet on campus then later in the year, so I will try to take advantage.

Time.

I am going through so many emotions right now, so much doubt and so much hope. Im nervous- which is good. Im not usually nervous when it comes time to leave. I am not ready to say goodbye. Its a wierd time, when you are 20. Everything that happens seems to set the course of your life forever, and it all happens so quickly. It's funny how God works too- two years ago I would have left joyfully, easily, without looking back even once. Now I feel like I have to be ripped away from my life here, so much beauty. But its His time and not ours, and God always makes a way for us, and He'll do it again. I just have to remember.

For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you"
-Jeremiah 29:11-13

Dichotomy

Over the last 2 days I have spent approximately $5000 on health coverage, medication, perscription eye wear, orthopedics, sanitation items, travel necessities, proper footwear, a camera, suitcases and academic parafernelia that I will need to go to Ghana, west Africa, next friday.

Most of these items were covered in healthcare plans or expected as a part of regular school fees.

Last week I put down $9000 in tuition payments.

Next week I will be stepping onto a $1,250 plane ride, including an 8 hour layover in Amsterdam which may include transportation around the city and a nice lunch in a European cafe.

A day after that I will be setting foot on the soil of a country where the GDP per capita is $1,500, risk of infecious deseases, particularily yellow-fever and malaria is "very high"- and often without treatment-, you cannot drink the tap water and 28.5% of people live below the poverty line- and food and medication, for many people, is pennies. I will be meeting people who have very little, very often, and will have to be okay with the fact that I will be carrying around and have access to a lot of items and medication that could help a lot of people. If I take the precautions this money has bought me I will never get Malaria, a parasite, extreme diarreaha or Yellow-fever. I will have access to higher education and even if something goes wrong, I will be soon returning to a country where healthcare and social saftey netting is very readily available.

There is nothing that will make me different from the people I will be meeting, but these are the strange dichotomies I will have to navigate over the next year.

When I was little and I didn't eat my spinache, or wanted something expensive, my mom would scould me and say that there were starving children in Africa. I saw tons of different charts and examples all through highschool of how far a dollar could go in an African country- the people were faceless, the cause was faceless, and very quickly it didnt mean that much to me. It was just another dollar, in another jar, and an icecream cone on a hot day would often seem much more appealing. Now that I am packing to spend a year in a 'third world country' these things seem like much more of a reality and what I pack and how I spend my money start to seem very, very important.

Wierd.

True Love.

I have a beautiful life here. This week I welcomed new students to Trent, Swam in the river, unabashedly, almost every single day; worked in a homeless shelter, worked at a youth center, face painted kids at a fair, played the dijambe at a Stephen Lewis foundation fundraiser, went fishing with loved ones, watched a meteor shower from rooftops of churches, biked dozens of km, ran, painted, drank fair trade coffee, shared meals and played football, watched a thunder storm from the roof of a parking garage and played some sweet pranks out of pure love. I lived fully, loved truely, laughed surely, and prayed sincerily. God, I am going to miss this place.

Unfinished lives

Sometimes when I travel to new places, I feel like there are pockets of life that I am leaving behind, unfinished. That the people I meet and want to see grow and change and love, I just leave, and then I never know what could have been had I stayed.

I am leaving behind a girl that I mentor, Sarah (not her real name). Sarah lives in a low income complex with her mom (for now) and has anger issues that are out of control because her family is unstable and she just desperately needs to be understood, desperately needs to be loved. Sometimes I feel like I failed her, by not being there enough, and sometimes I feel like I gave her the world just by being her friend and trying to love her best I could. I guess thats where we leave things up to God, to piece together and take care of the beautiful lives we will only ever see a small snapshot of.

"Maybe this was made for me, lying on my back in the middle of a field. Maybe thats a selfish thought, or maybe theres a loving God. Maybe I was made this way, to think and to reason and to question and to pray. I have never prayed a lot.. but maybe theres a loving God."
-Sarah Groves

The Message.

This is a poem I wrote 3 years ago on a trip to BC.. I was thinking of it the other day and wanted to share it. I called it "The Message".

Why did I not understand?
When I heard your beckoned call knock upon my door so long ago
and said "i will not wait but i will follow you"
but it seemed i took too longbrushing my hair,
drinking my coffee and tieing my shoes
before i stumbled out that old oak door
before the sea
sun and breeze hit me and the seagulls screamed
and i squinted in your general direction
but only saw, bare foot prints in the sand.
you said that you would carry meand so i set out, following
step by step
through the mountains and valleys, unto the sea
its so much harder to walk in your shaddow.
and I wish I had jumped on the boat when you first called me...
I could have seen you walk across that waterand calm the storm
instead of just hearing the wispers while i waited for the rain
to read the writting in the sand
scratched and fadded by time
but still visible...I find the basket left of loaves and fish
12 baskets abandoned on the hillside
you must have known i was comming,
so far behind.I fall upon them ravonously
Ive been walking so long, so hard
trying to catch up and walk beside
And the food has now grown cold and dry
it would have tasted much better in the company of yours
light to see and salt to eat
but instead i sit here in the dark
and try to light a candle
but its hard...when everyone looks at me loathingly,
telling me they're trying to sleepwhen daylight breaks (its sunday)
I try to clean my self up,
i know that youd be pleased
and i find the bassin you abandoned
the water is still cold, not yet luke warm
which means I must be close.
I wash my feet, alone
it would have been much easier
to have done it then with you,
and let you serve me
that i may serve you..
but instead i labour over myself
carefully wiping every bit clean and hoping that i can keep myself nice and neat
for you.
and as I'm walking on
i keep my head down, passivly to avoid getting any more dirty
A shaddow soon falls over me.
I look up thento see the mountain
that they say was your destiny
I scramble up
anticipating
I have been walking so long, so hard!
trying to catch up to walk beside...
but when i reach the summit, all i see
is an empty cross
blood dripping down,
where you died for me
and used to be...
I kneel down crying in the dust
sobbing for my hard pressed loss
that i never got to walk with you
and talk with youand hear your news...
But as i turned my head to leave
I can not help but stop and stare,
amazed
for you have climbed up next to me
to be comfort me, in all my grief
and i stare baffled "it can not be! all this time,you've been by me?"
and you just gently smiled at me and said:
"I never stopped knocking at your door
those footprints didnt walk that far
and when i parted on that boat i called your name as you stood on the shore
but you just would not see to me.
I left you writting, food and washings
and walked beside you, never talking
to see if you would notice me;
but you just kept your head down
trying to keep your feet clean
carefully walking to try to get to me
but i am the last and i am the lost
all the paths of poor you crossed
I was the one you never saw
but how could you not see me?
how could you not understand?
I'd never leave behind my lamb!
but you just have to see me.
Now listen to my message son
the one i wrote for everyone on how you can be saved:
my father kept his promiseand he has raised me from the grave
"God will never let the bodyof his holy one decay"
and i came to forgive you
not just to keep you clean
but just that i may walk with you
that i may set you free.
so never shall you walk alone but listen to my words of hope
and i will plant if you will sow
and heed my call to serve."
and as you held me in your arms
and washed my sins away
i cried the cry of freedom come:
because you came to save

Justice

Right now I am sitting at my favorite cafe in Peterborough drinking coffee and listening to the rain fall gently. It is so beautiful here and quiet and still. August is my favorite month of the year; I love the way the sky hangs heavy and the entire world becomes lush and thick.

This summer I have spent a lot of time hanging out at the local homeless shelter. It's called the Brock mission, even though it's not on Brock street anymore- its on Murray. A lot of people, actually, don't know where it is, but a lot of people do; hundreds of people. I started hanging out there in the winter time because some of the teenagers that go to the youth center I vollunteer at eat there. I love these kids with all my heart and so I started going there to share a meal. It was a simple thing, but to me, meaningful. I would go with a friend or two, and we would pray for the people we'd be meeting and that the kingdom of God would come and touch us even in a small way that night. Then we'd sit at an empty table and wait, sometimes awkwardly, sometimes trying to meet new people, often greeting old friends. By the end of the night the seats around us would be full of an assortment of people, laughing and teasing eachother and smiling, full of food and joy and I would thank God because I knew that his kindom had come to us, even in a small way.

Sometimes after work I would go and bake for the shelter or work on some painting projects we were doing to make it look a bit nicer in there. I realized that as school got out and the summer went on, there were A LOT more kids that hung out there. Way too many. One day when I was serving these giant pies I'd baked, I realized that maybe half the long, long lineup where young people I knew- and that disterbed me.

You see, ive been troubled with the concept of "social justice" lately. Im not quite sure what the goal is. I study International Development in school and we learn about economics and polical democracies and food programs- and then I hang around homeless kids on the weekend, and sometimes I get very different stories.

From what ive seen , mainstream 'social justice' has a lot to do with making people comfortable and happy; it is unjust that someone has to sleep on the streets, so we should get them some food and housing. Vaild. However somehow in this version of 'social justice' it's okay that we tuck people away into the basement of a dirty old building thats in need of a massive renovation, a lot of extra staff and a lot of extra love. It's a victory, really, that 'these people' have a place to go, a place to recieve a hot meal and some freedom.


At the Brock mission, the doors are wide, wide open to teenagers because it is more 'caring'- it is unjust to have them wandering the streets with no place to go. Valid. But I talked to a girl today, she is 16 and has been working with a traveling carnival, but showed up at the mission at 8:00 in the morning to see "whos around" while she was visiting town- its the first place she came. When I asked her who she was looking for she just said "people"- and as I watched her during the course of the day she conversed with older men- in their 30 and 40s- chatting and picking up the latest news. 16 year old girls should NOT be hanging around older men to form thier social groups, but this is one of the many distructive threads that make up the tapestry of 'social justice', it appears, and I see it over and over again.


In this version of socail justice, It doesnt matter if someone is sitting in an unhealthy or abusive relationship for years without ever getting told of what real freedom looks like, it doesnt matter that a health condition that could be relieved with some love and attention and prayer is being left to fester- As long as 'they' are happy, as long as 'they' are comfortable, to whatever measure you and I have deemed acceptable for 'those people' who are living on the street. 'Us and them' can still exists in this version of social justice.


Ive known a wealthy alcholic; but its not really a sin against society until it's an unwealthy alcholic on the street. Then its a problem. Then we need some "social justice". Even in the context of our best intentions, "social justice" is to give money to 'lift people out of poverty'; people who are living below the status quo, who don't have enough money to survive in our society. So then in this version of social justice, the main deffinitive quality is MONEY. Its deffined by how much is consumed, how much is spent, how much is maintained- to save a persons soul.

In the bible, justice is usually talked about with righeousness. If social justice is to be served, then righeousness is an outcomming quality. There is something that connects a righeous way of living with justice- and God LOVES justice. So ive started thinking that maybe we have a very limited understanding of what real justice is. Ive come to think that social justice has less to do with money and making people comfortable, and happy, but maybe social justice is the restoration of a whole person: to themselves, to their communities, and to God. And in this version of social justice, maybe it's not just about a certain demographic living in the "them" category that needs social justice- but maybe social justice is the restoration of ALL people to themselves, thier communities, and to God. Because if justice is just the restoration of a persons wallet to the ways of clean and normal living- if the goal of social justice is comfort and contentment then really a little basement room to be a daytime home to a hundred people in the winter is enough.


"When a Samaritan woman came to draw water, Jesus said to her, "Will you give me a drink?" (His disciples had gone into the town to buy food.) The Samaritan woman said to him, "You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan woman. How can you ask me for a drink?" (For Jews do not associate with Samaritans.) Jesus answered her, "If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water." "Sir," the woman said, "you have nothing to draw with and the well is deep. Where can you get this living water? Are you greater than our father Jacob, who gave us the well and drank from it himself, as did also his sons and his flocks and herds?" Jesus answered, "Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life." The woman said to him, "Sir, give me this water so that I won't get thirsty and have to keep coming here to draw water." He told her, "Go, call your husband and come back." "I have no husband," she replied. Jesus said to her, "You are right when you say you have no husband. The fact is, you have had five husbands, and the man you now have is not your husband. What you have just said is quite true."


I know a girl who might be pregnant with her fourth baby who hangs around the shelter. I think she is 19. Her first three children were from rape, but this one she will know the father. She seems comfortable and happy, and she laughs whenever I see her; but I can't even begin to get my head around the amount of healing and love that needs to take place in her life for 'social justice' to be served.


What if social justice is restoring these relationships? What if when it comes to social justice, in a very big way, or even in a small way, God has something to do with it? Maybe then it could be true that social justice isn't administered by "us" "to them"- but that I need social justice too, that I need to be restored: to myself, to my community, and to God. Maybe then we can see some of the walls that seperate us based on our pocket books begin to crumble down, because they arnt based on our pocket books at all anymore, but our humanity. I like to believe that this is the way it is- that there is something greater we are fighting for then just to make people, even ourselves, more comfortable, and happy. There is joy, and there is restoration, and there is freedom, there is healing. And as part of that, there is something greater I am living for too.