Twenty: You Can't Cure a Disease by Treating Symptoms

I feel like I need to explain my statement in a previous post that God did not use me in Myanmar.  It doesn't mean that God had no purpose for sending me.  It's just that I suspect that the primary purpose for this trip was not so much for me to be used by God to save others, but rather for God to teach me.   I hope that in sharing what I've learned, however, the trip will have value beyond just my personal enrichment.

This trip felt like a bringing together of several strands of knowledge that I've been learning since a trip to Haiti in 2010, but the short version is this:  There is a right and a wrong way to engage internationally to foster justice and fight oppression, and She is Safe does it right.

I saw the results of "aid gone wrong" on a post-earthquake trip to Haiti.  Although I couldn't have put my finger on it at the time, I was troubled by a rather dependent mind-set on the part of many (but by no means all) Haitians whose answer to difficult times was to request money or rescue from their wealthier non-Haitian contacts.  In hindsight, I believe the attitude is one WE created over decades of well-intentioned but poorly designed efforts to help the struggling nation.

In their book Helping Without Hurting, Steve Corbett and Brian Fikkert suggest that "helping" can actually hurt the recipient because it too often fails to address the roots of the problem.  For example, many programs by churches and humanitarian organizations have the goal of poverty alleviation.  However, the programs have an incomplete and unbiblical view of poverty as a lack of material goods or financial opportunity.  In this view, the "solution" is too often simply to give the needy the material goods that are lacking.

In reality, this approach is merely treating a symptom of the much deeper and more complex psychological and social roots that lead to poverty.  As a result, our well-intentioned handouts have the unintended side effects of creating dependency, undermining the dignity of the materially poor, and perpetuating the underlying causes of poverty.

Corbett and Fikkert prescribe a more biblical and holistic view of poverty as "rooted in broken relationships with God, self, others, and the rest of creation."  Using the Bible as their guide, the authors propose modeling development efforts after God's mission of what they call "comprehensive reconciliation" in ways that restore not just material possessions, but opportunity, dignity, and an appreciation of one's identity as a divine image-bearer.

Applying the perspectives offered by Corbett and Fikkert to the important anti-trafficking work that is much more in the spotlight these days, I can see how I have made similar errors in thinking.  When I first learned of the extent of human-trafficking in the world--and particularly sex-trafficking--my response was what I hope most people's would be: "We have got to stop this!  We have to rescue the women and children enduring such horrors!"

It's not wrong thinking, but it is incomplete.  Yes, we must have programs that work directly to rescue people from slavery and exploitation.  However, until we address the underlying systems of thought and culture that foster the treatment of humans as property, until we attack thinking that elevates personal gratification over all else, trafficking will continue to flourish.

Such an approach is a daunting undertaking:  It is slow, complicated, messy, and definitely not for the faint of heart.   On my trip to Myanmar, I had the privilege of seeing such efforts walked out by She is Safe staff members and their partners in Myanmar.  Seeing all of my book-learning walked out in practice in a context that is so ripe with opportunity is why I can say with confidence that my trip was a success despite the fact that I rescued no one.

How God Used Me

If I were a real blogger, here's how things would have gone down:

After my initial posts about my invitation to travel with She is Safe, I would have shared regular updates chronicling my thoughts and the process of preparing to go halfway around the world.  Instead, what I will offer (I hope) is an after-the-fact processing of the journey.

Since I'm still waiting for my brain to get home from Myanmar, this will likely come in scattered snippets (mostly because that's how it's coming to me).

After reading my last post about the trip, I recognize a major shift that has occurred in my thinking and my "justification" for going.  As you can imagine, it's not cheap to travel more than halfway around the globe, and most of my turmoil while preparing for the trip was using the generous contributions of other people to fund a trip on which I had no clear role.   It's incredibly awkward to be asked, "So what will you be doing in Myanmar?" when the only honest answer is, "I don't really know."

After reading Helping Without Hurting, I was able to have a certain degree of peace, but that was mainly because I felt that even if I didn't know what my job was on this trip, God did.  I felt a sense of anticipation about seeing how God would use me.

Now I'm back, and do you know what?  He didn't.  I can probably kiss any future fundraising for trips goodbye with this statement, but God had no use for me on this trip--and I am completely okay with it.

Here's what I've discovered: Sometimes God puts a fire in a person's heart and gives a vision, a purpose, a passion, and a commission to carry out a task.  In fact, on this trip I was privileged to travel with two such people and meet several more.

In my case, however, I don't know that this was a commissioning event or an issuing of a grand task--at least not right now.  Rather, I had the very humbling yet liberating sense in Myanmar that He was just inviting me along to learn and gain some understanding of how He's working there.

He didn't want to use me, He wanted to show me.

I'm not sure if I can articulate what a gift it was during a spiritually lonely and frustrating season to feel that the God of the Universe just wanted me with Him, as a child and a friend, to watch Him work and feel His love for all people.

So, I guess my first take-away is for all of us goal-oriented Americans with a hidden hero complex and a need to perform:

It's okay--vital even--just to be the sidekick sometimes.

Day Twelve: Roller Coaster Ride

This little guy doesn't look so much like this anymore.  I am sure I've mentioned this a time or two before, because I'm the teeniest bit obsessed about it lately, but, God willing, this May he will graduate high school.  For me, this is a big honking deal because I have homeschooled him since kindergarten--since birth, actually, if you want to count learning to talk, eat with utensils, and use a toilet.  (Fun Fact: Every mom is a homeschool mom.)

I homeschooled all three of my kids, but the girls got a few years in the local public school. The daunting tasks of teaching a child to read and cementing the basics of arithmetic were performed by the wonderful professional staff at Geneva Elementary School, God bless them.  With my girls, I just had to build on the excellent foundation they received during their first few years of formal education.

Not so my boy.  If you know me and know him, it's a little insane that I even attempted schooling him, but here we are! For better or worse, we are in the homestretch.  I should tell you, if my son were to give his version of our homeschool journey, he would say that I taught him until the fifth grade and then he pretty much taught himself.   MY version is that until the fifth grade I gave him the tools he needed to self-educate, and then from fifth grade on gave him ever-increasing opportunities to apply those skills.  Those opportunities included on-line courses, group classes through a wonderful umbrella school, and dual enrollment classes at the local community college.  (Just for the record.)

This spring will be my third and final graduation, and then this very significant task will be complete.  I know some women grieve this event, but I will be doing a hallelujah dance.  Don't get me wrong.  I loved homeschooling and the family bonds that have resulted for us.  Especially with my son.  Let's just say that this has been a beautiful but very hard thing for me.

Circle Christian School, the private umbrella school that we have used since he was a third-grader, puts on a beautiful graduation ceremony. In recognition of the vital role of parents, at the graduation ceremony it is the PARENTS who hand the scholar his or her diploma, not school officials.  Dad gives the diploma and mom moves the tassel on the graduation cap.  As each student walks up on stage to meet his parents, the audience has an opportunity to listen to a pre-recorded message from the parents to the graduate.  It's a great tradition.

As we recorded our message for our first graduate four years ago, I said to my husband, "When Reed graduates, I get the WHOLE forty seconds.  I've earned them."  Truth be told, though, I don't think even the whole forty seconds would suffice.  We may need an entire book.

Schooling this human mountain of exuberance, curiosity, and sensitivity has stretched me beyond imagining and revealed character flaws that I might have remained blissfully unaware of.  The two of us are a study in contrasts.  When we did the Cloud/Townsend assessment of personality, my score on the Introvert/Extrovert scale was on the very extreme of the Introvert end.  His score blew right on past the end of the Extrovert portion.  Seriously, they will have to invent a new test to measure his extroversion because this one just didn't go high enough.  I have a high need for quiet, he makes noise even when he is sleeping.  You get the picture.  Not exactly a match made in homeschooling heaven.

We definitely had our days.  One that stands out vividly was a battle we had over math and the fact that I INSISTED on making him re-do problems that he had miscalculated. Emotions ran high enough that I had to give MYSELF a time-out.  My friend Carla dropped by and found me sobbing on my bed promising, "I am so sending him to public school---and I don't care if they make fun of him and tell him he's stupid!"  (That little confession is for all of you out there who think I'm this sweet, saintly woman who reads aloud to children and is a constant ray of sunshine.)

To add to the excitement, when he was in fourth grade, I began teaching homeschool writing classes to help supplement the family income--leaving him with a list of tasks to accomplish in the dining room while I was in class in the living room.  This poor social being dreaded those hours and HATED those tasks.   Even though I am certain he felt that he worked diligently during those times, I was routinely left with evidence of what else had occupied his time.  Once after a long afternoon of solo work, I came to check his progress and found a disturbing amount still unfinished.  He groaned, "Can't I stop?  I've been doing school aaaalllll daaaaayyyy."  It was so pathetic I might have had pity on him, except that there was a pile of a thousand paper cranes on the table and an upside- down bike (wheels still spinning) in the front room.  On days like that I prayed his diversions were evidence that I was raising the next Thomas Edison.

Another day I finished class and went to check on him.  Nowhere to be found.  So I went outside and called for him.

"I'm up here," he answered from high in a tree by our front porch. "I needed fresh air and movement, so I'm doing my school outside."

 Ever the skeptic when it came to him and school, I asked, "Oh, really? What are you working on?"

Please take a moment to fully appreciate his response: "I'm doing my handwriting lesson."  (Because everyone knows that cursive is much easier to do if you are also trying to balance on the limb of a tree!)

And don't forget that proud mama moment when, on a field trip to the local radio station, my impulsive son  ANSWERED THE TELEPHONE HOTLINE when it rang.  They were not amused.

So, you can see, it's been a roller coaster educating this boy/man, but did we did it.  My boy learned how to learn.   I daresay he learned as much from what he explored while he was avoiding schoolwork as he did from the schoolwork.

And I learned a few things, too.

I learned that it's not good to shush an auditory thinker--because he has to HEAR himself say things in order to understand.

I learned that it's much easier to make up a math deficiency than a relationship deficiency.

I learned that some days it's okay to throw the academics out the window and just have a good belly laugh.  (Our go-to on days like that was a wonderful book titled, "Walter, the Farting Dog.")

I learned that even though silence is golden to me, the endless words of my son are far more valuable and will only be ringing through my home for a very short while.

Most of all, I learned to love the roller coaster.