Remove the Chains

Free those who are wrongly imprisoned;

    lighten the burden of those who work for you.

Let the oppressed go free,

    and remove the chains that bind people. 

Isaiah 58:6  (NLT)

Callings are not always welcomed. They sound lofty and spiritual, but they really are a heavy burden if you don’t know how to follow them; my guess is that most of us are more like Jonah than Noah. What difference can one person make anyway? There is doubt that we heard anything at all, not to mention the fear of the unknown.

I can recall at a very young age feeling disturbed by the way my great ant treated the peasants at the farm where we spent our summers in Fusagasuga, Colombia. I did not quite understand why the floor in their tiny home did not have tiles as ours did. Why were my friends dressed with odd fitting clothes, why were they not allowed to play with me at times because they had to work. One summer, I heard that the older girl had left town, she was lucky because she was given an opportunity by a stranger to go to school in the city of Bogotá. She would be able to make something of herself. I remember feeling so sad that she had to leave her mom and be by herself in the big city. Now I am pretty sure she did not make it to school.

Fast forward thirty years, when I lived in Bogotá as a missionary with my husband and two young kids. The country in a drug war that created total chaos and a culture of fear. I could not even roll down the windows of my car on a hot day (no a/c) because my kids could be kidnapped at a stop light. I knew nothing then about lucrative business of trafficking humans.

A decade later we made it back to Florida as family, we were finally safe!  It seemed like I had found paradise! My kids could ride their bikes to school and were free to play outside. Then I started finding photos of missing children here as well, so I rushed to get my kids photo and fingerprints registered with the police department. A while later, Jennifer and her bother started to play at my house with my younger son. There was something disturbing about their behavior. They stayed in the playground way after dark, their pants were soiled and wet and just did not want to go home.

Then the call started to wake me up at night. Literally, I wake up in the middle of the night sometimes with thoughts of missing children, exploited women… locked up somewhere, anywhere, maybe in the motel down the street. I stumbled upon an article about human trafficking, then it was on CNN, then I heard about International Justice Mission. I went to their yearly prayer conference in D.C. It was set up in different rooms for each region of the world where they have their offices and operations to rescue victims of slavery of various types. Sharp lawyers, loving and tough skinned social workers, and brave investigators that risk their lives often for this cause. But what was I doing there, what can I do?  I wept and wept… I saw a victim from India that had been rescued.

I want those imprisoned to know that their life matters to God, that they are as unique as their fingerprints. To know they can restart their lives. That God saw every tear, all the injustice. I want to believe that this pain I feel for them is not in vain, that it is there to somehow help rescue many and prevent more from being trapped.

The ideas began to flash. I would create a pool of artist and designers that would donate their work to create awareness online. Maybe we could sell coffee table books with beautiful art to contrast the ugliness of God’s sons and daughters being ripped off their humanity as they sit in darkness, beaten, abused, degraded as objects many times per day. These books would be conversation starters to raise awareness. Also a way to raise funds especially for the ones in the recovery programs who need healing and hope. We could make care packages for them, each one individualized with their names and their favorite goodies because they don’t have anything when they are rescued. These days, I am working towards supporting a community of weavers in Colombia to prevent human traffic as well as volunteering with a group of NGO in Florida to promote awareness. The call is now a whisper non the less a voice. Synchronicity has brought me others that have the same call. The fear is still there, I think it always be there.

Somehow to me this calling seems to be for all claiming to be part of the reconstruction of the world, the Kingdom on Earth. Enough quarrels  about doctrine and dogma when the number of slaves is beyond 30,000 around the world!

Anyone who sets himself up as “religious” by talking a good game is self-deceived. This kind of religion is hot air and only hot air. Real religion, the kind that passes muster before God the Father, is this: Reach out to the homeless and loveless in their plight, and guard against corruption from the godless world.

James 1:27 (MSG)