Making injustice itch

I once moved out of an apartment because of a massive flea infestation that the manager refused to do anything about.

It was awful. Disgusting. Bad for my dog, my sister's cat, and my sister and I. I had to move out of my bedroom because that's where they were coming in. Even after numerous flea bombs. Nothing worked.

So we literally borrowed money for first, last, and deposit elsewhere and moved.

Because fleas are small but incredibly annoying. And at first they're just an irritant, but eventually they make you lose sleep, and you itch constantly, and you can't get anything done.

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Sometimes I wonder if these petitions and thoughts and social media shares are doing any good. I'm just one person, just one number on that petition count of thousands.

Maybe I'm just fooling myself and trying to make myself feel better about not doing enough, I think.

But about a year ago, I posted a quote from Marian Wright Edelman, a woman who has dedicated her life to speaking out for children through the Children's Defense Fund, among other things.

I forgot about that quote until it showed up recently in my Facebook feed as a memory to look back on.

Here's what she said:

You just need to be a flea against injustice. Enough committed fleas biting strategically can make even the biggest dog uncomfortable and transform even the biggest nation.

So for now I'll keep being a flea.

If you can run with this, please do

So like a lot of people, I've watched with amazement at Donald Trump's lead in the Republican primaries.

What's surprised — and scared — me is the level of anger his supporters feel, as well as their embrace of the solutions Mr. Trump offers.

You can't just attribute this to celebrity appeal. It's more than that.

This article by Amanda Taub from the website Vox does an interesting job of looking at the psychology of not just Trump's supporters, but at a broader trend in American politics.

In a way, it's a look at a significant part of our nation's soul. I think it oversimplifies at times, but it gets to the heart of some real issues.

The main one is fear. What's interesting is that Mr. Trump's supporters are more afraid of ISIS than they are of car accidents. And I'm guessing you know which one is more likely to kill you on U.S. soil.

What I found most telling is that what seems like racism is really a fear of anything that threatens. And so much feels threatening to the white what-used-to-be-middle-class.

There are gay people getting married. Black people are standing up to police brutality. Immigrants want to come here. Jobs are moving overseas.

And the people who aren't afraid of those same things have been frankly doing a terrible job of talking to the people who are.

They — we — call names: homophobic, racist, privileged, xenophobic.

It's easy to call names. Then we can look past each other and keep yelling slogans that the "other" won't hear.

And while I may think those fears have no rationality behind them, so what?

Fear isn't rational, and we have to stop talking to people who are afraid as if they're thinking with anything but their heart.

These are people who see everything they have valued or relied on slipping away. If I felt that way, who knows what I'd do? It probably wouldn't be pretty.

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So here's the idea I really want you to steal:

Someone with different resources than I have needs to start a media campaign that can help us look at the "other" as being like us.

Maybe a black screen with a woman talking about how she worries about violence on TV and its effects on her kids. And then, slowly, we see that the woman talking is wearing a hajib.

Maybe it's a gay man talking about how hard divorce is on kids.

Or a black activist who worries about finding a job.

Essentially it would be a whole slew of people with common dreams and common problems. For no other reason than to make the "other" into "us."

The thing is, these have to be real people, and their talk can't be scripted. And they can't be seen until the message has already been taken in. If it feels fake, no one will connect.

I've never been a meme girl, but the rest of this Lent — and maybe beyond — I'll be looking to figure out how to create some memes on social media that can do this.

But if you know someone who can take this farther, please do.

This isn't about an election. It's about our future as a country. Because if fear wins, it won't be a place any of us want to live.

Local solutions work ... when they're supported

We've all heard it, "Think globally. Act locally."

I confess to not always knowing what that means or knowing how to apply it.

But this one is obvious.

Oxfam America is asking folks to put pressure on Congress to use some humanitarian aid at the local level, where the people not only know the problems, but also know the culture and why solutions will or won't work.

They're holding up Monrovia, Liberia, mayor Clara Doe Mvogo, who put on her jeans when ebola threatened her city. She got local leaders and trained them, and she worked hard to fight fear and misinformation in the community.

It worked. They were seeing results within a month.

According to Oxfam, less than 2 percent of humanitarian assistance goes to local organizations in emergencies, even though they're often best equipped to understand the problem and meet needs.

Frustrated with International Women's Day

So I meant to write this yesterday, but it's still true today.

It's ridiculous that women, who make up more than half of the population, get one day a year.

I'm not saying it's not an important day. It is. But it shouldn't be. It should be ludicrous.

The One Campaign's latest campaign (yes, I know that was redundant) is called "Poverty is Sexist."

The first line of the letter to world leaders that I signed says, "Nowhere on earth do women have as many opportunities as men. Nowhere."

Think about that. It's a big statement, but I think it's true. Women in the U.S. face discrimination every day, and we're supposed to be sooo advanced and progressive.

But the fact is compared to most places in the world, we U.S. women have it very, very good.

When I lived in South Korea, I was amazed that the person who spoke the best English in my office (where we were teaching English) and I believe had a Ph.D., was a secretary. She served the men and me (the lucky white woman) coffee, among her other duties. And life for South Korean women was better than it is for many women in the world.

Women and girls are affected even more than men and boys by extreme poverty — from healthcare to education to hunger.

So I did something in honor of International Women's Day, but I hope some day I won't have to.

I am encouraged to see so many people sign this letter. There's a long list of people you'll recognize on the website, but among them are Meryl Streep, Bono, Melinda Gates, Unilever CEO Paul Polman, Amy Poehler and Tina Fey (they're practically one person, right?), Condoleezza Rice, and Muhammad Ali.

What's notably lacking from the list are leaders from the faith community.

That's strange, given One's work with churches and faith leaders. I remember their first commercial, where George Clooney and Pat Robertson agreed on something.

I hope Christian leaders will sign on because women in poverty are truly "the least of these." Our voice matters to them. For now, anyway.

Felons deserve a fair chance

I know this is controversial, but I don't think people's felony records have much to do with most jobs.

I hadn't thought much about this until I went to a Christian Community Development Association conference and heard, among other people, Michelle Alexander speak about mass incarceration in this country.

This year, my book group read her work, The New Jim Crow. It's hard to read, partly because of the information and arguments it presents, and, honestly, partly because she's a lawyer and could have used a ruthless editor. But I digress.

The number of people incarcerated for nonviolent crimes in this country is staggering, especially young black men.

But even after they've supposedly "paid their debt to society," they are forced to check a box on applications for jobs, housing, even food stamps.

So how are felons supposed to re-enter society and not re-offend if they can't even get a job interview.

The group All of Us or None of Us started a movement to give felons a chance by banning the box on job applications.

Obviously, there are some jobs where a felony record matters, and that's not going to change. But not in every case.

People are fond of saying, "Everyone deserves a second chance," but we're often not willing to act on that saying. So today, I said I would whenever I can.

This is also just common sense. If we want to reduce recidivism rates and keep our communities safer, we need to make sure people exiting prison have jobs so they're less tempted to commit crimes. As long as there's a lock on the door to a decent job, a home, and help, crime will be an easy alternative.

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Wait, what does this have to do with Jesus?

A lot, I think, but I'll give a couple of examples.

Jesus is criticized a lot by the religious establishment for hanging out with "the wrong people." And while Jesus doesn't say anything about ex-prisoners, he's pretty clear about visiting them when they're in prison, so it doesn't seem a stretch he would expect us to keep caring when they're out.

And when Jesus meets the woman caught in adultery — a crime punishable by death at the time, just in case you're wondering what that has to do with felons — he tells her, "Go and sin no more."

No restrictions. No lectures. Just forgiveness.

Giving thanks for the present

Okay, so I wrote about my evangelical background and the gifts it gave me (without sarcasm or bitterness).

So I thought it was only fair to write about the gifts the United Methodist Church (and the Episcopal Church, too, since that was mostly home before I married a Methodist) give me now. I owe a debt to the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), too, since my college was affiliated with both the DOC — that's the liberal arm of the Christian Church — and the conservative one.

This isn't for one second to say that the church I call home is perfect.

There's a saying that patriotism is to have "a lover's quarrel with one's country." I agree. I'm not sure what you'd call that in the church, but so I'll just say I'm a patriotic United Methodist who has some extremely passionate quarrels with the church.

But it's easy to criticize and harder to find the good — for me, anyway. So today I'm thinking about why I'm here, and why I stay.

Mainline churches taught me that when Jesus said, "Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven," he was talking about now. For whatever reason, I said those words over and over without thinking Jesus might have meant we should be trying to make earth look like the kingdom of God, not just waiting for Jesus to come back.

Mainline churches taught me that economic choices are also theological choices. We don't always get this right, of course, but I like that I can (and do) buy fair trade products during coffee hour at my church. There's no pressure, but it's available. (FYI, fair trade products are those where the producers, such as farmers and artisans, make a real profit on their products instead of providing insanely cheap labor for big corporations.)

Mainline churches taught me that faith can be inclusive rather than exclusive. While I often wish for more emphasis on doctrine (yes, I'm that person), I appreciate that my church isn't so concerned with who is and isn't going to heaven. The emphasis is on following Jesus now, at least on our best days.

Mainline churches taught me to emphasize Jesus over Paul. While I actually wish we talked more about Paul, I'm glad that when the two seem to contradict each other, we'll pick Jesus every time. Same goes for the Old Testament. Again, I'd like to read those in light of Jesus rather than ignoring the parts that are hard or that we don't understand because of culture and history, but I'll take this emphasis.

So I'm finishing by saying there's plenty to hate about any institutional church. But there are things to love, too.

Tomorrow I'll go back to that lover's quarrel in a personal, private, and real way, but tonight I'm thinking about the love part.

A group working to wage peace

Yesterday I wrote about the things I love that were given to me by my conservative upbrining. Today I was going to share some things I love about my mainline church (as well as some things that make me incredibly frustrated, since I'm an insider there now).

But I'd forgotten that today was Super Tuesday. And I'd forgotten — as much as a person can during a presidential election cycle — how truly depressing this campaign is.

I was looking at the results because ever since I was a reporter I've been an elections junkie, I was reminded of how divided the country is. I don't remember ever seeing it quite like this.

I've seen the two parties hating on each other. That's pathetically normal. But within the parties there seems to be division on things that really matter ... deep division.

I found myself worried tonight for my country. Can we weather this? Can we live through our own hatred and the crazy ways we express it.

So I did a Google search for common ground, looking for something that would make me feel like not everyone is out for themselves.

And I found this amazing organization, Search for Common Ground, that is helping people figure out their differences without violence.

When I read that 19 out of the world's poorest 20 countries have experienced violent conflict in recent years, it made me stop having a pity party and remember that I live in a place where people can vote and express themselves, and for awhile now, that hasn't led to war.

Search for Common Ground is a young people's movement, which gives me even more hope.

And even though I'm not the target demographic, I signed their pledge, which reads like this:

We believe our different beliefs, values, and backgrounds should never stop us from working together. We believe we can change our response to conflict, from destructive to constructive, without compromising who we are. We know we don’t have all the answers, but we’re willing to search.

I will do my part to end violent and destructive conflict in my life, my community and the world.

Idealistic? Yes. But right now (and always), the world could use more idealism. They're looking for a million people to sign and then get emails with challenges and practical ideas. I'm hoping they're useful because the world needs them.

I need them.

Giving thanks for my heritage

This is not particularly about justice, so it may be cheating. But it was Donald Trump that inspired this post, in a weird way. I've been surprised by the way evangelicals have been embracing Mr. Trump, but I've also been encouraged to see so many evangelicals speak up about how he doesn't represent them. Some of these are my friends and family members, and others are eminent and respected evangelical leaders like Max Lucado.

I am an odd theological duck.

I grew up in a conservative evangelical church in the Wesleyan tradition. A holiness church, it's called.

Now, as a United Methodist (and closet Episcopalian), I'm on the other side of the Protestant camp, in mainline land. Liberal. Lost? I would have said so at one time.

I'm still the most conservative in a room full of theological liberals, and the most liberal in a room full of theological conservatives. (Political conservatives and liberals are a whole different matter.) This does not make me middle-of-the-road or wishy-washy. I'm extremely passionate, especially about my faith, but I don't wear labels easily.

The story of my move from one side of Protestantism to another is for another day, but today I'm thinking about my evangelical brothers with gratitude and love.

I'm thankful for an upbringing that gave me deep roots, but never told me not to think.

I didn't leave the church of my birth because of abuse or even hypocrisy. I simply had theological differences.

So here are a few things my heritage (and especially my parents) gave me:

Evangelicals taught me to take the Bible seriously. And to memorize scripture, lots of it. I learned to read the Bible, the whole thing, and care about what it said, and also what it meant for me. I would not be who I am today without that.

Evangelicals gave me Christian music in the 1980s. And it was nothing like thesaccharine stuff that gets played on Christian radio now. It was Steve Taylor singing, "This Disco Used to Be a Cute Cathedral," and Steve Camp with "Don't tell them Jesus loves them 'til you're ready to love them, too." Not to mention Out of the Grey (okay, that was th e '90s) and the inimitable Charlie Peacock.

Evangelicals taught me about social justice. Okay, I didn't learn that from most of the people in my church, but I did learn it from the books I picked up in the Christian bookstore. I was such a nerd that in high school I got — on two separate birthdays — The NIV Study Bible and Tony Campolo's The Kingdom of God is a Party because I asked for them. I heard missionaries talk about the poor on a regular basis, and while they didn't talk about systems of oppression, they were actively doing something. The ones I remember the most were nurses. And single ones, at that.

Evangelicals kept me out of trouble. I was scared of getting in trouble, but I also had a strong moral compass. The church taught me right and wrong.

So, though I don't say it enough, thank you.

In praise of teachers

Tonight I went to a Head Start parent night on Conscious Discipline. It was about how the brain responds to stress and how to help our children — and ourselves, maybe especially ourselves — navigate stress so kids can learn. I think it's also so life can be better.

Among other things, the presenter showed us this video about a young man on the wrong path, and the teach who literally saved his life.

I have a bias toward teachers. I was one. My husband is one. My mother-in-law was one. And I had so many who helped me navigate my education and my life.

But I also had my share of bad teachers, the ones who played favorites and arranged kids according to their math test scores (yes, that really happened; it was the '80s). The one who called the girls "Baby" and told them to get his coffee. The one who told great stories but never covered any actual material.

So I don't have some blind love of teachers, and I don't think all teachers are great and should be put on pedestals.

But this woman saw something, and she acted. And she saved a young man's life. That's powerful, and it deserves recognition.

So here's to those with the gift of teaching, the ones who have the natural talent and the ones who work day after day to develop it in the hopes of making a small difference. Because sometimes they get to make a bigger difference than they could have imagined.

No honor in killing

Call it white girl's burden, survivor's guilt or whatever you want, but some days I feel ashamed that I have it so good.

I've grown up in a country that has a checkered history about women's rights, but in the end, I feel protected. I know this is partly due to my race, another lottery I didn't enter but apparently won when it comes to privilege.

I don't know much about suffering firsthand, and I certainly don't know what it would be like to face violence simply because I'm a woman with a brain.

Sadly, not every woman has this privilege. Simply by the circumstances of their birth, they may face beating and even death for things like wanting to get married to the wrong guy, talking to a man, getting raped, or, God forbid, getting pregnant.

Life could be hard because of my choices, but it wouldn't end with a man legally killing me because I'd brought shame on the family.

But every day in our world, 13 women and girls die in such a way.

I'm adding my voice to a petition to call on President Obama to support women's rights — particularly the right to be free from violence — as International Women's Day approaches March 8.

It seems obvious what this has to do with faith: "Thou shalt not kill," comes to mind. As does, "In Christ, there is no male or female." And Jesus himself forgiving the woman caught in adultery when a bunch of men were about to stone her.

When Disney princesses aren't enough

My 4-year-old is really into princesses right now.

If yours isn't, you should count yourself lucky.

Some days it's funny, like the day she was strolling down the hallway chanting, "I'm a princess, I'm a princess," with her high heels and dressup dress (a gift from my mother), and biffed it over a pillow she'd left lying around. She looked around to see if anyone had noticed and said under her breath, with awe-inspiring determination, "I'm still a princess."

I don't worry too much about this phase. I went through it, and I am decidedly not princess material. Jeans and no makeup have been my uniform of choice for decades.

My husband, on the other hand, despises anything remotely princess-like, particularly the attitude that comes with it.

He knows he can't diss on what she loves, though. She's both stubborn and sensitive, so he'd hurt her and drive her away in one snarky comment.

So he says, "Remember, a princess takes care of her people."

Now as she twirls around with her light-up wand (also from my mother; thank God someone indulges this side of my little sweetie), she says, "I take care of my people."

Today I decided to show her a real princess who took care of not only her people, but so many others, too.

Whatever you think (or don't bother thinking) about Princess Diana's life, her commitment to the outcast was truly remarkable.

And when she touched people with leprosy, I couldn't help but think of Jesus doing the same.

So today I showed my daughter a few videos of the People's Princess doing what she seems to have loved most: showing compassion.

Despite its poor quality, this is the video that moves me the most:

It was Diana's work to end the stigma of leprosy that I recalled when I was invited to visit a leper colony myself while I lived in South Korea.

A Korean friend of mine was a fellow English teacher. She was a Catholic, and Catholics and Protestants don't always get along in Korea. But she had a Protestant minister in her class, and they developed a mutual respect and kind of friendship for each other.

Prior to his living in our city, he had been assigned to work in a leper colony. When he got there, he found a group of victims dependent on charity for their survival.

This wasn't good enough for this man whose name I've forgotten (we only met the one time). He encouraged the people to do work and support themselves.

He took my friend and me to the colony, where we witnessed remarkable transformation. In the midst of their suffering, this group of people had started a massive chicken farm. They fed themselves and lived comfortably on the proceeds of the eggs they sold.

I remembered Diana touching the people with leprosy and found the courage to do so myself.

If my daughter can emulate even a bit of Diana's care for people, I'll be happy if she plays princess every day of her life.

Sometimes answers don't come easy

I was reading today about Muhammad al-Qiq. He's a journalist from Palestine being detained in Israel, and he's been on a hunger strike for 90 days. The Israelis say he's a terrorist. He says he hasn't been charged with anything and should be freed.

The truth isn't so easy to find.

So today, I don't have any answers or quick petitions to sign, just a story and a reminder to myself to keep praying for places that seem separated by millennia of hate and fear.

And that story takes a detour.

In the early 2000s, Habitat for Humanity flew me to Atlanta, Georgia, for a job interview. They provided a rental car (sort of ... that's a whole 'nother story, and not at all Habitat's fault about the sort of) so I could drive the few hours south to their headquarters in Americus.

To make a long story slightly shorter, I didn't get the job, but I did get to spend a couple of days in the humid, peanut-growing area that Jimmy Carter calls home.

I was only about 10 miles from Plains, where Carter still lives today.

On my way out to Plains, I rolled the windows down and smelled the thick air that has a certain something that's different from any other place I've ever been. The air is loud with crickets or some sort of cousin.

I turned the radio on to some local station. And then I heard, in a soft simple voice, (to the best of my memory): "Hello, this is Jimmy Carter. Southwestern Georgia Technical Institute and the Plains Community Center are offering classes. If you'd like to get a GED or learn English as a second language, ..."

I'd always liked Carter for his ex-presidency, but now I was in love.

When you drive into Plains, there's a huge sign that says, "This is Carter country."

And it is. It's obvious that Jimmy Carter tourism helps keep the tiny town afloat. The president's Secret Service agents have a baseball game every year, and Carter taught Sunday school when he was in town.

The woman at the visitor center said, "He'll tell you right out, he'll tell you right out that's the only house he's ever owned," speaking of the family home that he'd added a bit onto, but not much.

I longed to spend more time in Plains, but I had a plane to catch (and a woman named Lydia to give a ride to — part of that other story), so I left. Reluctantly.

A few years later, I saw Jimmy Carter: Man from Plains on Netflix and naturally added it to my queue.

It's an intriguing documentary of the president from director Jonathan Demme.

I expected a film about how Carter's roots in Plains made him the man he was. There was a bit of that, but most of the film (as I remember it) followed Carter on his book tour for his controversial Israel: Peace Not Apartheid. The man who had given his life to more and less quiet service was saying things Americans didn't dare to say about what was happening to Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza. The response from the Western media? Let's just say he didn't win a Grammy for that one.

So when he went on al-Jazeera, he could have sat back and basked in the few moments of peace he might have received. The audience was the choir to whom he was preaching. But he didn't rest. Instead, he called out Palestinians for their role in the conflict and the problems they were helping to perpetuate.

And that leads me back to today. The problems with Israel and Palestine are beyond me.

I suppose this is partly why I'm a person of faith, and particularly a Christian.

Because some things are too big for me. And I need to believe they are not too big for God. I believe that when Jesus said, "Love your enemies," he meant it.

I believe that when the writer of 1 John said, "Perfect love casts out fear," he understood that if we people could stop fearing each other for even a moment, we might be able to love each other.

And then ... God's kingdom come, God's will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

So I pray. Maybe that's lazy, maybe it's naive, but I don't know what else to do. And I want to believe God does. I long to see millennia of hate lose out to love.

"Your kingdom come, your will be done in Israel and Palestine as it is in heaven."

Amen.

This 15-year-old is amazing ... and needs clean water

If you've ever said to yourself, "Why don't (fill in the blank with random needy people group) just do (whatever it is they need to help themselves)?" Eva Tolage's story might be for you.

Eva is now 15 years old. She wants to go to school and become a police officer. But she doesn't have time because she's too busy walking to the nearest river to haul water.

Her father works all day to pay for her schooling, but someone has to get water because there is no clean source of water in her village. (If you know of a way to help Flint, Michigan, by the way, please leave a comment about it.)

Eva and her village wrote letters to the Tanzanian government asking for clean water and electricity. They haven't heard back.

So the One Campaign is asking folks to join them, putting pressure on the Tanzanian government to make good on its commitment to the Global Goals.

You can help Eva help herself. She doesn't want charity, she wants a chance. Will you #StandWithEva?

19 years later, the U.S. should join the world on landmines

In 1997, I was living in South Korea.

The world was on the verge of signing a ban on landmines. Princess Diana had brought enormous attention to the problem, and Jody Williams had co-won the Nobel Peace Prize for her work on landmines.

Princess Diana's death brought even greater attention to the problem. The world was watching.

And 162 countries signed a total ban on landmines, which have no ability to distinguish enemies from children, villagers, or anyone else. And they remain decades after the powers that be have concluded that conflict is past.

President Bill Clinton had agreed that the U.S. should join the treaty. Until he disagreed. He cited the Korean Peninsula as the reason.

I was shocked and disillusioned with my country.

Landmines showed up in a South Korean river when I was there, posing danger to civilians.

Military officials at the time said we didn't need landmines in Korea. But the U.S. pulled out.

The rest of the world stuck with the treaty, which is still in effect today.

The Obama administration has implemented most of the tenets of the treaty, but without signing, citing the Korean exception.

It's time for the U.S. to recognize what most of the world does: The biggest military on earth (by a long shot) doesn't need weapons that do so much harm to the innocent.

Human Rights Watch is encouraging the U.S. to sign, and you can join them.

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What does this have to do with Jesus?

Jesus is the one who said those who live by the sword will die by the sword.

Oddly enough, I found that people think that means what goes around comes around.

But Jesus didn't say this as a proverb while staring at clouds. He said it when Peter was trying to defend him by cutting a man's ear off. Jesus healed the man and told Peter to put away his sword.

I understand that questions of national security and the military are thorny, but landmines aren't a complicated issue. We can simply stop using them and stockpiling them.

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The story of Peter putting away his sword always reminds me of this song by Rich Mullins. I know Caedmon's Call remade it, but I like the raw quality of this one:

No 11-year-old should be forced to marry an old man

In Burkina Faso, the government isn't enforcing its own laws against marrying girls off when they're still children, often to much older men.

Amnesty International is collecting signatures, as well as doing a letter campaign, in defense of these girls, many of whom have escaped at great risk to themselves.

Isn't that just their culture? Who do you think you are?

Just because something is cultural doesn't make it right. We need to tread carefully, but this is the country's own law. Child marriage is also in violation of human rights treaties Burkina Faso has signed.

But here's the clincher. If your 13-year-old was forced to marry a 70-year-old man who already had five wives (yes, this really happened), wouldn't you want anyone and everyone to fight for her?

Would you just say, "Well, that's my culture and people should leave her alone"? Of course not. You want what's best for your daughters or other young women you know. And you know that doesn't include getting pregnant at 13, being denied schooling, and being forced to do hard labor for a husband who shows no care.

Pressure from the international community works. You can add your voice.

Poultry workers just want rights

In an odd irony, chickens' conditions have improved lately because people have put pressure on the four biggest chicken companies.

But the workers' conditions haven't.

I won't go over everything that's wrong with the working conditions of poultry workers because Oxfam America does an amazing job of it.

But a few awful highlights:

• Workers often wear diapers to work because they don't get breaks. Diapers.
• The U.S. Government Accountability Office says the poultry industry still has one of the highest rates of injury and illness of any industry.
• The line goes fast enough that a whopping 78 percent of 302 people surveyed said they felt unsafe at their job because of the line speed.
• Poultry workers earn 2 cents for every dollar spent on chicken nuggets.

I like chicken, but not that much.

Oxfam is asking people to put pressure on the four biggest poultry companies in the U.S. to provide justice for their workers. You can recommend fair compensation, a safe and healthy workplace, and worker voice and empowerment with the click of a button.

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What does this have to do with the Bible?

Here's Amos 2:6-7, from the Common English Bible:

The Lord proclaims:
    For three crimes of Israel,
        and for four, I won’t hold back the punishment,
    because they have sold the innocent for silver,
            and those in need for a pair of sandals.
7     They crush the head of the poor into the dust of the earth,
        and push the afflicted out of the way.

Substitute "a quick buck" for "silver, and "a box of chicken nuggets" for "sandals" and you get the picture.

Not to mention Jesus' simple command: "Do to others what you would want them to do to you."

Nobody deserves to work excruciatingly hard for little money, only to be injured and replaced.

End modern slavery

"Justice is long and boring."

That's what Mike (I can't remember his last name) said, talking about the work of International Justice Mission.

Among other things, IJM hires lawyers to fight for slaves all over the world. It takes years to get victories and to change public policy, but they keep going.

It's hard to believe there are more slaves now worldwide than there were at the height of the American slave trade. We hear a lot about sex trafficking, but slaves make shoes, bricks, coffee, chocolate, clothes, you name it.

It's easy to think there's nothing that can be done. The systems are entrenched, and even companies that try to do the right thing find that their supply chains are problematic. The work of setting the oppressed free isn't as simple as it seems.

But the abolitionists didn't have an easy job, either. They still did their work because it was right.

Slavery is both an embarrassing time in Christian history and a proud one. People were enslaved because they were considered heathens, but their freedom was also a cause of other Christians, those who took the words of Jesus seriously when he said he came to release captives and set prisoners free. They didn't think that was just spiritual language.

IJM is an unabashedly Christian organization — so much so that they shut down for prayer every workday — and their work is respected outside the faith community.

I signed up on their Freedom Commons website to get updates on how to take action.

I also signed the petition to encourage Congress to enact the End Modern Slavery Initiative Act, which you can do from the link above without signing up, if you prefer.

If you're looking for an organization that fights slavery that isn't specifically faith-based (or you just want to partner with more than one organization), check out Walk Free.

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For a bit of inspiration, here's a lovely cover of "Break Every Chain" by Sarah Reeves. Just a warning, I'll probably use this song again when I write about mass incarceration. (Yes, that's coming, too.)

The candidates & the least of these

You won't hear much about global poverty in the presidential debates, but if you care about what each candidate thinks about the poorest of the poor in the world — those living on less than $2 a day, the One Campaign has you covered.

They asked the question: If elected, what will you do to fight extreme poverty in Africa?

Several have responded (those who've dropped out have black and white pictures so you can keep it straight), and you can tweet or sign a petition to get those who haven't to respond. If there's a candidate you want to hear from, let them know.

Chris Christie, Hillary Clinton, Lindsey Graham, Mike Huckabee, John Kasich, Marco Rubio, and Bernie Sander have submitted videos.

I plan to watch them all this weekend and send messages to those who haven't responded, whether they're my favorite or not because I want to hear from everyone who wants to lead this country.

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Wait. What does politics have to do with Christianity?

It depends on where you're coming from. I strongly respect my brothers and sisters who believe the political system is ungodly, and so we should just continue being faithful followers of Jesus and ignore it.

When I read the prophets, I see them speaking to systems of power, especially corrupt systems, calling them to justice.

But if you don't think the presidential election can really help the poorest of the poor, I get that. Skip these videos and petitions, and please consider what you might do for the least of these. And please do share. I'd love to hear some nonpolitical ways to bring justice for those who most need it.

Stand with the working poor

I've been in debt.

Who am I kidding? I'm still in debt, but now that debt isn't crushing.

But there was a time when I wasn't making it paycheck to paycheck, even working full-time. And I worked hard. I was single and didn't have kids, so despite the fact that I was making $16,500 a year, I didn't qualify for any benefits. I had no health insurance and no safety net.

I turned to a payday loan, and it took about a third of my check, a third I couldn't afford to lose, because I had nowhere else to turn.

I live in Oregon, where we've passed some laws to protect consumers against insane interest rates and origination fees. But there are lots of places where people have no protection.

The faith-based organization PICO is encouraging people to weigh in as the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau considers regulations on predatory lenders. They're also asking for people's personal stories and pictures, and they have resources for churches who want to help.

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We all know people shouldn't have to pay 300-400% interest, but what does this have to do with Christianity?

The prophets are constantly talking about justice for the poor, and people who turn to payday lenders are among the poor. These people are working (or else they wouldn't have a paycheck to get a loan from) and they can't see any other options.

They're vulnerable and desperate. I know because I was them.

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus says if someone sues you for your coat, give them your tunic, too. Theologian Walter Wink says this is equivalent to stripping naked in the court. It was illegal for someone to sue for a coat. That's because if you're suing for someone's coat, that's all they have.

Jesus is telling people who feel powerless to make a display of the injustice of their oppressor.

If you look at PICO's website, you'll see a few pictures of people doing something in that same spirit, standing with signs in front of payday lenders and telling their stories.

Whether you've been in debt or not, you can stand with the working poor and encourage reasonable interest rates. If the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau acts, these lenders will still make a profit, but they'll be prohibited from preying on people when they're most vulnerable.

Refugees and Jesus

All through the Bible, Jews and Christians are told to welcome the "stranger" in the land. "Stranger" being foreigner.

I understood the concept when I was a kid, but it wasn't until I was a foreigner myself for three years that I really got it. Foreigners are vulnerable. They often (though certainly not always) come not knowing the language or the way to navigate the most basic interactions.

It's exciting to be a foreigner, but it's terrifying, too. In my small town (of 500,000) in South Korea, there were an estimated 100 foreigners. In reality, there were laborers from developing countries across Asia who weren't included. But we were still a tiny minority.

Among the locals was a woman who ran a small noodle shop that was famous throughout the city, partly because the owner made the best noodles and fresh kimchi in the whole country and partly because of who she wouldn't let pay.

On the list of mandatory freeloaders were high school students — because they had to work so hard — and foreigners. And this woman wasn't interested in giving the occasional meal. She told me to come every day.

As tempting as the offer was — did I mention these were among the best noodles I've ever eaten? — I couldn't bring myself to do it unless I knew I'd be with a large group of people whose money she would take.

One day I got the courage to ask, via a college student who served as translator, why I wasn't allowed to pay. She said if she were ever a foreigner, she hoped people would take care of her.

And there you have it. An extreme example of welcoming the stranger and following Jesus' command to do to others what we want them to do to us.

And so I begin this Lent standing in solidarity — if only with a click of a button — with my Syrian brothers and sisters. Because they're the stranger. And because I hope someone would do the same if I became a refugee.

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But don't you know they could be terrorists?

Of course I do. I don't think it's likely, but that's neither here nor there, is it?

I don't think Jesus gives us an out because things are difficult or dangerous. I'm sure of this because he didn't give himself an out. When he said, "Take up your cross and follow me," he wasn't talking about a difficult task. He was talking about an instrument of torture and death.

I've been quite disturbed lately to hear people using Jesus' story of the Good Samaritan as an argument against welcoming refugees from Syria.

The theory is that the Samaritan took the man on the road to an inn, not to his own home.

The folks spreading this argument aren't taking into account a couple of things. First, the Samaritan was the foreigner. Of course he didn't take the man home. He would have been dead by then. He took him to the nearest place he could. Even though he was a foreigner, of a different and despised religion.

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Christians and danger

One of the most amazing stories I've been privileged to hear is about the village of Le Chambon-sur-Lignon. During World War II, this tiny village of French Protestants rescued approximately 5,000 refugees, mostly Jews.

The leaders faced Nazi prisons, and they could easily have been killed. The entire village risked everything. But they took care of these people — people who were of a different faith and culture at great danger to themselves — simply because they wanted to be obedient to God.

I was looking for photos of Le Chambon and came across this one from 2010. The villagers are participating in Cercles de Silence, a French movement of silent protest of the detention of refugees and unregistered immigrants.

This image was released into the public domain by its owner.

So how can you welcome the stranger in your land? Are there places you are being called to risk during this Lenten season?