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Easter and a Political Awakening
Easter preparations are under way for at Shelter Jordan. On Monday, we had a staff meeting to discuss plans to share the true meaning of Easter with our guests over the holiday.
I felt a little frustrated because it seemed like all our ideas were old and worn out like used Kleenex; when your nose is a drip and you really want a fresh Kleenex but all you’ve got left is a shriveled up dried wad and you have to settle for finding a little shred of clean fiber on which to wipe your nose… I didn’t want to settle. The Gospel is worth more than used Kleenex.
The problem is, when you are working in a Christian environment day in and day out, it gets hard to continually find new activities through which to share the truth. I think it is especially hard to make the Gospel relevant to an audience of people from all over the world in Amsterdam for every different reason.
So, we met and discussed different ideas. After two hours, the team had generated some pretty good ideas. We decided to center the Bible discussions for the week on facets of the crucifixion such as how Christ was abandoned by his friends.
The plan for the weekend is as follows: On Good Friday, we planned a hostel night, where we give the free dinner, and the presentation will be about the Symbols of Easter and their meanings. Saturday we paint eggs with guests and show the Casting Crowns mime about Christ saving us from the temptations of the world. Finally, on Sunday we will have a special breakfast with the café decorated with flowers, and then watch Ben Hurr that evening.
Today was Friday and my day off. The hostel has been booked solid this whole week, so there have been some awesome opportunities to speak with guests. We were all excited about the hostel night, but I knew I needed to take advantage of my time away from the Shelter, so I went to a liturgical service of the Stations of the Cross instead.
Christ Church is a beautiful, small Anglican church a few streets over from the Red Light district. The priest stood and explained the order of the service. His lilting Irish voice was soothing and only added to the experience of meditating on Christ’s last hours as he read the scripture and prayers aloud. After the service, Marco joined me outside and invited me and a New Zealander friend of his to come to his community house.
We walked into the heart of the Red Light district until we came to Kajuit Niewes. The first thing I saw was the fish tank, sitting inside the wall and next to the little coffee bar. The next thing I saw in the comfy little living room we had walked into was an old nun with a black cloth pinned to her head and some metal rimmed glasses perched upon her nose.
There were people from all ages sitting in the circle of chairs and kids running around in the adjacent dining room. I talked with Marco, then with two girls who were temporarily serving in the community house. The house serves as a ministry since they often bring people in who don’t have a stable life. They provide a secure lifestyle and help them get on their feet. They also help the prostitutes in the Red Light and often provide sanctuary for them. It was really encouraging to hear the story of the place.
Afterward, I headed to the Jordan to eat dinner. I settled down next to Coralline, a Dutch friend who often comes to hang out at the hostel; Barry, the guy from Sierra Leone who used to be a cleaner; and a German guest named Stefan. We talked about traveling for a long time and poured over a book of maps that was at least 20 years old. Stefan has traveled all over the world. I asked if he could recommend some good places for me to go in Europe. The conversation gradually shifted to deeper waters.
I had been reading a book for school about evangelizing through asking good questions. I just wanted to get to know these people. Coralinne left after awhile, but the guys and I delved into a discussion about traveling our own countries. We eventually got into European and African politics. I don’t like political conversations, but I do understand that politics are the basis by which a country is run. If I want to change what I dislike about a country, I have to go to the power at the top. I have a burden for the world. It’s been there since I was nine. I’m still waiting to see what God will do with it. This trip has taught me that I am not alone in that burden; God is preparing people continuously to go out into His world. If only I wasn’t such a broken vessel.
Barry started talking about how the subsidies in Europe are ruining the agriculture and economy in Africa. If a country (like Kenya) decides to abstain from signing a free trade agreement and keeps all its trade local, it will keep its economy healthy by keeping the cheap, mass-produced vegetables from Europe out. Unfortunately, organizations like the World Bank and IMF play hard ball. They tell Kenya that they will not bring their money unless Kenya opens its borders to outside trade. They know this will wreck Kenya’s economy, but they don’t care. Then our non-profit organizations come in and teach the people to receive aid, but we don’t teach them to do for themselves. It is a wretched, bloody, starving cycle.
And so, I vote for no more government subsidies. We then moved on to American politics. I realized it is not ok for me to exist in the realm of denial, not talking about my country and her problems. I love America. But we have issues. We have gang rape in our inner cities, we have AIDS running rampant, and we have war veterans sitting hungry and cold on street corners. I know these issues aren’t fixed overnight, but at least I am beginning to think about these things. I am a part of the problem if I sit and let them happen. I refuse to be a part of the problem.
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