Saved for something

Over the past few months I have felt very content and happy, which somehow makes me not feel very content and happy. Why is it so hard to just be thankful for God's good gifts instead of thinking it must be a trap and that I'm doing something wrong?  Aren't so many people on earth suffering?  Shouldn't I?  Or at least shouldn't I be expending effort in trying to end the suffering of others?

Yes, I live in Oakland working directly to cut poverty in the Bay Area, but somehow it doesn't seem enough.  I can work to help families get food on the table or pay for a place to live, but then I am still faced with the broken lives and injustice that cannot be solved or put back together because of some money or programs. 

Peel back the intermingled layers of graffiti, grit, sunshine, and palm trees, and there are real humans impacted by their choices and the choices of others:

There's the man who gave his life trying to save another man from the path of an incoming Caltrain.  The 13 year old shot to death while walking home from the Boys and Girls Club.  The mother who lost two sons to gang violence within two weeks of each other.  The 17 year old killed by her younger brother in a dispute over laundry.  The young man kneeling at the entrance to the freeway surrounded by rubbish and broken glass, silently begging for some extra cash.  The pastor's wife who has just been robbed once again of her cellphone.  

There are residents who are outraged at the violence and senseless waste of life, but they are also resigned to thinking things will never change.  There are people who don't know they have the choice and power to want more in life than the poverty and crime that surrounds them.  Even those who have wealth and opportunities that stand in stark contrast to most of their fellow residents are yearning for something more:  Hope, meaning, direction, calm.   

Yes, I am very white, very educated, and from a very middle class background in the Midwest.  But I have not lived a sheltered life--at least my dear mother made sure I didn't.  I started reading the paper every day when I was 10, went to a public high school where I was a minority in every way, had African-American roommates in college on the East Coast, lived in an impoverished part of China, and have worked in public service for a few years now.  There are so many facets to ending poverty and inequality, but it seems like Jesus is so often removed from the equation.  From experience and witnessing the transformed lives of others, the catalyst has always been Jesus: Brokenness and hurt and sin colliding head on with love and mercy and holiness.

I think deep down I'm afraid of becoming too comfortable and complacent.  After my accident, I had to decide if I would truly recognize that my life is in God's hands.  Safety is just an illusion.  Safety is fleeting.  Or at least how the world defines safety.  I know I am as safe as safe can be, whether that is in the middle of China, Indiana, or California.  Even death can't tear me from the arms of Christ--the safest place to be.        

Our pastor recently said, "God never saves us from something without saving us FOR something."  I have been saved from my own sinful destruction for His glory.  But how do you live that out on a day-to-day basis?  In the post-modern, post-church Bay Area?  How do you not become paralyzed by all the need and emptiness?

I know there's a reason I am here, although I may not be able to know what it is yet.  Beside the occasional periods of sadness and fear, I also have a growing sense of love for this place that is becoming home-- the spirit of resilience, the incredible diversity, the authenticity of people you meet, and the countless Oaklanders working to end the poverty and conflict found in most cities that is only amplified in Oakland.  Last week, a couple of my girlfriends and I took the train south to the central CA city of San Luis Obispo.  In the hostel where we stayed, the mixture of Europeans and other Californians seemed in awe that we were from Oakland.  Yes, you definitely earn some street cred by living and working in Oakland, although I live in a relatively safer part of town than my friends.

Perhaps I was a little crazy moving to Oakland as someone who is recovering from PTSD.  But maybe this is exactly the place to heal, as I'm surrounded by people who are also in need of healing.  Hopefully years from now, I will be able to witness an economically vibrant, safer Oakland with flourishing churches, changed lives, and bright futures.  Until then, I will try to stay engaged and hopeful that I can also affect this city, even if it is only one step, one conversation, and one life at a time.