Free the Slaves
She cowered against the wall with the other women, each wondering when she would be next. A woman’s screams filled the static air. Like a sharp cadence, thuds from the beatings continued. Eventually, the man emerged from the room, dragging his victim. Purple and red bruises, mingles with bloodied cuts covered her face and body. Whole chunks of her hair were missing. The other women helplessly stared.
Welcome to the world of human trafficking, specifically sex trafficking. No, you say, this is stuff from a novel or horror movie. Actually, it is from a human trafficking case investigated by the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI), involving at least 9 women who were forced into sexual slavery. The man, Don Arthur Webster, Jr., was convicted by a federal jury on February 6, 2008, in the first sex trafficking trial in the district of Alaska, and charged with 28 counts for sex trafficking of minors and adults, and drug trafficking.
Now a little over 143 years since slavery was outlawed in the United States with the passing of the 13th Amendment, slavery continues on a widespread scale. Many Americans do not even realize what “modern day slavery” is, much less that it is a problem. Between 14, 500-17,500 people are trafficked annually into the United States and between 600,000- 800,000 are trafficked globally. The United Nations estimates that the total market value of illicit human trafficking amounts to a staggering $32 billion.
The Victims of Trafficking and Violence Protection Act (TVPA) of 2000 defines human trafficking as ” (a) sex trafficking in which a commercial sex act is induced by force, fraud, or coercion, or in which the person induced to perform such an act has not attained 18 years of age; or (b) the recruitment, harboring, transportation, provision, or obtaining of a person for labor or services through the use of force, fraud, or coercion for the purpose of subjection to involuntary servitude, peonage, debt bondage, or slavery.” This same act also asserts that “Trafficking in persons is a modern form of slavery, and…the largest manifestation of slavery today.” The 2004 Department of Justice report says that “Approximately 80% of the victims are female, that 70% of those females are trafficked for the commercial sex industry.” According to the National Criminal Justice Reference Service, “the largest number of people trafficked into the U.S. come from East Asia and the Pacific (5,000-7,000),” and the “next highest numbers come from Latin America, Europe, and Eurasia, between 3,500 -5,500 victims from each.”
Victims are often snared with fraudulent promises involving marraige, employment, educational opportunities, or a better life. The FBI reports that while the majority of victims in its human trafficking cases are women and young girls from Central America and Asian countries, victims can also be U.S. citizens. Once victims have been recruited by force or fraud, they are then controlled physically, emotionally, and/or financially.
Steps have been taken to combat human trafficking. Acts such as the TVPA have been signed into law, and increased efforts both nationwide and internationally by organizations such as the International Justice Mission, the United Nations, the FBI, Department of State, Department of Justice, and others are combating this form of slavery. But human trafficking continues both nationally and internationally at an alarming rate. Further steps must be taken to abolish this atrocity. Even one person who has become violated and forced into slavery is one too many. But likewise, even one person can help stop slavery. In the words of former Attorney General Alerto Gonzales, “Human trafficking is a violation of the human body, mind, and spirit. For this vile practice to be taking place in a country that the world looks to as a beacon of freedom…is a terrible irony and an utter tragedy.”
What will you do to free the slaves?
Victims of Trafficking and Violence Protection Act
National Criminal Justice Reference Service
U.S. Department of State – Trafficking in Persons Report 2008
U.S. Department of State – Human Smuggling and Trafficking Center
Life Is Beautiful
Life is beautiful. No matter how ugly it may seem, life when lived with love, is beautiful.
The Italian movie “Life Is Beautiful (La Vita e Bella)” is one of my favorites. The irrepressible humor of Guido, and his incredible intelligence and child-like zest for life and imagination are certainly inspiring, as is his love for his family and his selfless sacrifice for them.
This movie is truly great literature. It elaborately argues for love, joy, and the importance of imagination. Its finely tuned humor alternately makes me giggle or sob. I never escape a viewing of the film without crying tears of laughter and tears of grief. The awful totality of events leaves me with an extremely bitter feeling, but it is tempered by the haunting presence of Guido and all that he stands for. Although he experiences horrific tragedy, he also lives with and enables joyful endurance. The film’s closing lines, ” We won! We won!” ring through my head. The knowledge that they have really won exhilirates me, but the cost of the winning causes me so much sadness. Simultaneously, I cry for joy, anger, and grief. But that is what the movie’s strength is, how well it shows how inseparable our lives’ emotions are, and how grief can be conquered with joy, but happiness can also sometimes cause horror to be more understood. It makes clear how even though life may throw its worst, there is always something to be joyful about, because love makes anything bearable.
My ultimate response: Life truly is beautiful. If it is lived with Love.
What Is My Passion?
Last night, I watched The Passion of the Christ. It was the fourth time I have seen the film, although I think it was actually much harder for me to see it this time.
I knew I needed to see it though, knew that I needed to be reminded of everything Christ did to demonstrate His love towards us. I do not at all enjoy watching the terrifying gore, but I need to be broken, I need to remember how He was broken. I so quickly forget the cost Christ paid for my redemption; it is easy to simply think of his death as quick or not overly meaningful or painful. Especially when I read the account of the crucifixion in the Gospels, it seems so emotionless, so factual. I cannot comprehend what exactly the words “Then Pilate took Jesus and had him flogged,” mean or to what extent he was beaten by the Council. And when I fail to remember everything, His physical pain, emotional agony of being rejected, or the total brutality and horrific sin of man, I do not value Him as I should, and I readily abandon His way for my own selfish one.
Although there are a few liberties taken in the film that I am not sure I agree with, I believe it gives a very good description of what Christ did endure. Some of the most powerful scenes for me were when Christ was rejected by the Jewish Council, when Pilate asked Christ what truth was, and when Christ prays to God to forgive his executioners because they did not know what they were doing. I kept thinking I have rejected Him, every time I choose to follow something besides Him, I reject Him and his sacrifice. I also kept thinking about how wonderful it is that there is Truth, and that God has provided the Way, Truth, and Life. Without the truth, we would still be captives bound by Satan’s lies, the negations of Truth. But because of Christ, the Truth, we now have a Way to God and freedom from our bondage to sin and lies.
So what, or Who, is my passion? Christ’s passion was to honor God, and to rescue us; what is mine? I like to say or think that Christ is my passion, that living for Him is my life goal. But the little decisions I make every day seem to suggest otherwise. To borrow Switchfoot’s lyrics, where’s my treasure, who’s my hope? If Christ endured everything for me, and enables me to endure whatever He asks of me, why should I not live for Him with a single passion?
As Paul says, I must decrease, He must increase. And,
What shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written: ‘For your sake we face death all day long: we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.’
No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans 8:35-39
This great love demands my soul, my life, my all.
Rachmaninoff
Rachmaninoff is amazing. I have only listened to a bit of his music (just his piano Prelude in C Minor), but just recently I listened to one of his symphonies. His Symphony No. 2 is absolutely enthralling, emotionally engaging, and completely… completely….completely something. I am not at all sure how to describe it. It is simultaneously bitter yet sweet, gloomy yet hopeful. Something like dark chaos morphing into harmoniously melodic freedom. The Largo and Adagio are my favorites. I must listen to more of this Rachmaninoff person’s works…
Here is a YouTube video of the Puerto Rico Symphony Orchesta’s performance of the Largo movement from Rachmaninoff’s Symphony No. 2:
“Give Me Your Eyes So I Can See”
Music sparkled out through the auditorium sound system. An Angel breathed life into
the standing motionless girl. He gracefully swayed his arms and body while invisible strings
connecting him to the girl’s body caused her to move after him. He showed her how to breathe
and live; they danced together. Soon a dark Spirit waltzed her away, danced and left her. She
was beset with various people, each wordlessly peddling some elusive attraction like money,
alcohol, sex, “beauty.” At her acceptance, each new person enlarged the wall between her and
the Angel.
“These kids shouldn’t be watching this,” I thought as I sat with the group of 3rd-6th
graders that I had recently begun to help teach at church on Wednesday nights. We were
breaking our normal routine to watch a mime skit put on by an out-of-town youth drama team.
Although it was originally for the junior and senior high youth, the younger kids’ leaders had
decided that the 3rd-6th graders should watch it too. So we sat – twenty-some kids with three
leaders interspersed. Two energetic boys were on my right, and one reserved, affectionate girl
was on my left.
The music droned darker, heavier. The Angel was pushed farther behind the wall, away
from the girl. She tried to get to him eventually, but it was too late – they had become too strong
for her to push through. A black-robed monster appeared, offering her a knife. She didn’t want it.
He made slashing motions down his arm, forced the knife into her hand, left. She was noiselessly
crying and cutting.
“Where is this going?” I couldn’t drag my eyes away, yet I felt I should. I was there,
this was happening, but it had to stop. It had to. She would be OK. She was probably going to get
back to the angel next.
Relentless music pounds as they surround her. Climbing, crying, crawling, she can’t get
away. She is pushed and pulled in every direction – they overpower her, taking her to the ground.
The monster is back. The gun comes out. Shaking, trembling, not wanting to use it, but she must.
She holds it to her head, silently screams. She doesn’t want to kill herself, but why not? They all
show her she’s worthless; she’s followed their lies for life leading her to this death. No. Don’t do
it! But she can’t escape them. The gun is at her head for the second time. More shaking.
Her finger plays with the trigger. Throwing the gun down, she frantically runs toward the
Angel. They are all grabbing her, clawing her, killing her.
I couldn’t take it anymore. My eyes blurred and I looked down. I noticed Anna, the girl
next to me, her face covered in tears. Hugging her, I whispered that we should go. We
exited the auditorium after telling our leader, and entered a quiet room as I tried to repress my
own tears.
“Are you OK?” I ask.
“No.” She sniffs.
“Was it the gun?”
She nods. “My sister almost killed herself with a gun…”
I wonder what this fourth grader has gone through, how much of what we’d just seen
was familiar to her. I hardly knew her. She sits on my lap and we cry together. We talk about
it when she is ready. I tell her the gun wasn’t real, that the people were just acting. The leader
comes in later and expresses similar comforts. She tells me and Anna that we missed the end
of the skit when the Angel saved the girl.
But while Anna was comforted and settled down, I wasn’t. That “fake” gun was all too
real for me; it heightened my feeling, not just knowing, the horrors of the represented addictions,
greed, and eating disorders, their emptiness and destruction. In my bubble of existence, my neat
little world so free from sorrows, I had never encountered the grim reality of addiction and
suicide.
That night marked my entrance into a new world. Beginning to understand what
life without love was like, I saw the dying and heard the desperate call for life. My ears
had opened my eyes. My eyes hadn’t been shut before, they just hadn’t seen. Listening, I have
now watched people in my circle of the world run the gauntlet of addictions and potential
suicide. I hear the music around me, see the people. Swirling out over space, the cries for help
become a roaring crescendo as the people silently continue their deaths.
Content?
Recently, I have been thinking much about being content. The Bible verse “And be content with such things as you have,” keeps popping into my mind. I try to be content, but it just doesn’t come naturally! I often wish for more, and stress about meeting financial deadlines, but, in theory, I am content with the money and physical things I have. In theory, I know I am blessed far beyond what I deserve, and that what possessions I tend to take for granted, others in the world see as great wealth.
But in practice…in practice, I am a complainer. I stress about financial matters, tend to get worked up about not having what I think I need, and often forget to have an attitude of gratitude. I know that there is no reason to do so, that God has proved Himself capable of meeting my every need, so the stress usually only lasts a few hours or even minutes.
Where am I going with all this? Well, today in church, I read 1 Timothy 6: 1-10 and was struck with verse 6: “Godliness with contentment is great gain.” I have read this verse many times before, but somehow, I never noticed the context in which it was written. In 1 Timothy 5, Paul is writing instructions to bond servants, or slaves. He is teaching them that they should be respectful of their masters, and use their slavery as an opportunity to honor God by providing a good testimony to their masters. Right after this section specifically addressed to slaves are some verses about false teachers, and how they see “godliness” as a means for financial gain. Anyway, the verse about godliness with contentment is given in the context of slavery and proves that even slaves could be content. They had nothing – not even themselves. But because the value of godliness totally surpasses any physical wealth or gain, even slaves could be content in God. Not that this excuses slavery by any means, but it struck me as I read it, that when God asks me to be content, He not only gives me plenty to be content with, He expects me to be fully content in Him without the physical “stuff” I typically think I need.
I used to commonly think that, yes, contentment is good, and I should and would be content…as soon as I got such and such a thing. Or that we should always be content with moderation, or the “average,” but the thought never really took hold of me that we should be content no matter what our circumstances are. Because if God is true to His word and never changes, and if He is able to meet all our needs (spiritual and physical) our true status never changes – we are always rich in Him!
Paul wrote lots more on contentment (“For I have learned to be content in all things…”), and it is all equally good, but this little verse just stuck out for me today.
