The Hard Middle Ground

The biggest thing I learned in college is that there are a lot of bad things going on in the world and a lot of good people trying to change that.  I grew up in small-town Missouri, and sure, I knew bad things existed.  I saw the children on TV and sponsored a child for a few years when I was a preteen.  But for better or for worse, I was also incredibly sheltered from real injustices.

My town had (has?) an active KKK clan that sent a threatening letter to our high school band director after he paid tribute to Rosa Parks during a concert.  Needless to say, I had zero friends growing up who weren’t from white, middle-class families.  All the bad things on the local news happened in Kansas City, a good 35+ minutes away, and were therefore of no concern.  My youth group participated in the 30-Hour Famine, but I only went to play games and flirt with boys.

Then I moved to Chicago, more specifically to Albany Park, one of the most diverse areas in the entire nation.  I learned about human trafficking not just overseas but here in the US, about homelessness and political wars and racial/economic injustice.  I was overwhelmed with information and overwhelmed by a desire to help.

My dream was to go serve in an orphanage after I graduated.  I loved kids, and wanted to be somewhere where my actions could be most useful.  The college even linked to a 6 month internship at an orphanage in Zambia, and I was sure that was where I was headed.  Then I fell in love. 

As things got more serious between me and the HH (handsome hubbeeeee), I slowly realized my dreams needed to change.  He didn’t want to go to Africa; he wanted to go to Portland.  He wanted a big house with a nice yard, nice cars, and nice things, while I felt all of those things were inherently evil in some way. 

Fast forward and here I am, living in Portland, occasionally catching myself dreaming about the house I’ll someday own.   I work at a job I hate just to bring home a paycheck so I can pay off debt and go out to eat every once in a while.  My education pushes me to be revolutionary, while society pushes me to just blend in, and it is incredibly hard for me to live in the tension.

The sad truth is, I don’t think I would have been any happier in that orphanage.  I would have gained life experiences and perspective, sure, but joy?  I doubt it, simply because it’s not where God was really calling me, I only wanted to go so everyone (including God) would see how helpful I was and how much I loved them/Him.

It’s so much harder to love people from my comfort zone.  I feel like if I was shoved into the unknown, I would love and depend on people because I had nowhere else to turn.  But now I have a TV, a constant companion, even a cat for goodness sake.  Instead of inviting people over for dinner, I can watch reruns.  Instead of volunteering downtown, I could go for a hike or write a blog post (ha). 

It’s something I struggle with every single day.  I feel like I either can’t or don’t love Jesus enough when I’m stuck in my comfortable bubble.  Sometimes I get mad at God because He called us here and I don’t know what to do with the calling. 

But I know He’s here, teaching me something.  I have a feeling it has a little something to do with patience, politics, and money, and a lot to do with faith.  For now, I’m trying to find peace with Him in the midst of consumer chaos and trying to find the courage to believe He’s got something worthwhile up ahead.

{Photo source}

Occupy Injustice?

*Ahem* I would like to add another voice please?

These Occupy protests are everywhere, and I don’t know how to feel about them.  I look on the news and see people who are angry, but don’t know what about.  They march and hold meetings, but they mostly just rant without goals.

However.  When I read the postings on the 99% website, my heart is broken.  These are people who are educated, who have the best jobs they can get, who just want to be able to eat and pay rent in the same week.  They have to choose between medical care and a roof.  This is not ok.  It’s not just, it’s not fair, and it does make me mad.

I don’t agree with the way they’re trying to affect change, but golly gee whiz, I sure do relate to them.  I read an article recently that said the problem is that this generation is forced to delay their lives, and I thought- “I know those people.  I am one of those people!”

I know too many people who had to move back home after college because they couldn’t afford student loan payments and rent.  I know too many people who took bad jobs because that’s all there is left. 

We’re all delaying marriages and cars and houses and babies and yes- lives because we know we can’t afford them.  And the thing is, for us to make any other decision would be irresponsible.  I refuse to have a child I can’t support.  I refuse to buy a car I can’t pay for.  But the government and the American society keep pushing us to do these things, so I feel bad when I make healthy choices.

I’m not mad at the banks.  I’m glad they keep my money for me and pay me interest without charging me fees (choose good banks, people! Investigate before you give them your money!).  I’m not even mad at student loan companies.  I approached them to borrow money, and without them, my education would have been impossible. 

However… charging 12% interest on a loan seems a little unfair, doesn’t it?  Charging a fee for being proactive and paying your loan off early seems unjust, right?  There’s just something wrong with foreclosing on a house when there are 4 children inside, isn’t there?

I certainly don’t have the answers.  I know that this little family is being aggressive and trying to get rid of these debts so we CAN get on with our lives.  I know that I won’t ever borrow money again, except maybe for a house.  I know that I want these people to get justice, but I just don’t know what that looks like.

So for now, I’m just sitting with the rest of the world, watching to see what happens.  It feels like all I can do.