I'm Sorry . . . Let Freedom RING!!

After church this afternoon, I went with another woman (Britt) from Nea Zoi to meet with a woman who was trafficked to Athens (along with hundreds of others) . . . and REFUSED to prostitute herself. I was told that she was beaten and abused . . . and still stood her ground.

Now, she's working as a home-cleaner for a Greek family - a live-in house-keeper. And she aches for her home nation . . . but she's a beacon of hope to me. No matter the cost . . . she stood her ground. Wow. Jesus, pour out . . . pour out . . . pour into her all your love, all your truth, all your strength. Thank you, LORD . . . for the testimony of your daughter. . .

This woman goes to an International church in another part of Athens. They call it a Pentecostal church - I hear they preach the Health & Wealth Gospel there, which is ironic because the congregation is made up of refugees and ex-prostitutes. Lord, that they would hear more of Your word than false promises about what faith can buy you. The pastor explains that if they only have enough faith, surely they will be rich too -- and I ache for them to know God's promises, and that faith brings freedom, redemption, and wholeness . . . treasures so much richer than money.

But the woman herself - wow. I was blown away. What a beautiful woman! I was wearing a sun-dress and sweating with 3 other sweating American girls sitting under an umbrella at a little Greek cafe . . . and she walked up in a long-sleeved black shirt, assuring us that her nation is much hotter and she wasn't even warm at all. Dark skin, high cheek-bones, full lips and beautiful smile . . . her eyes were dark and a bit sad . . .

My flat-mate Laurie spent 6 weeks in this woman's native country last summer, and began sharing with the woman - who started laughing nervously and thanking her over and over again as Laurie described the food, the music, the clothes - how much she loved the people and the culture.

We sat in silence for a moment following the rain of her laugh . . . and then the woman said, "You know, the reason that I say 'thank you,' is because so many times here . . . people don't know, they just don't understand that I have another culture. That I come from another place. And that it's beautiful there."

She pulled at her skin - rubbing it hard, like she could rub the color away, and she said, "You know, they look at the color of my skin - the way I am dark, darker than them. I have brown skin and not white - so they judge me and they think they know all about me. They think that I am only good for some things . . . that I can't ever be like them. I feel that all the time."

She went on about the racism that she faced . . . on a regular basis . . . and I wasn't hungry anymore. I felt like my heart was flayed open and bleeding all over our little wooden table, and suddenly the sun burned right through our umbrella. How do you swallow that?

Jesus, hear I stand . . . a white woman. Thank You for giving me this skin - so I can say I'm sorry. Sorry for being the Oppressor that never notices those we tread on . . . Sorry for stripping bare other cultures . . . Sorry for ignoring injustice because it benefits me . . . Sorry for forgetting past hurts and blinding myself to present ones . . . Sorry that somewhere deep down, the piece of me that still says I DESERVE THE BEST still screams out of a cage and alters my vision just a bit.

Destroy in me, Destroyer God, the Evil One. I want to live in freedom . . . for freedom. I want to set the Oppressed free . . . so I give up the Oppressor's Throne, and I ask You to tear it out of me. TEAR IT OUT OF ME - and spare nothing.

Funny thing, as I'm here in Athens, I've been thinking about some of the Case Studies we look at at ICCD . . . thinking about some of the needs at Nea Zoi, some of the needs of the women -- some of the ways that maybe I match up with some of those things . . .

I was talking last night at the 4th of July party with Emma and another British staff member (Joanna, whose leaving in January - Emma's right hand). I had an idea after outreach to the Nigerian girls the other night . . . you know, 5 of them graduated from an employment mentorship program last week . . . but all of them are still working in prostitution because they don't have other options. They don't have the papers to get another job and they don't speak Greek . . .

I thought it would be so cool to start a business for these women where they could make baskets, make clothes, make jewelry from Nigeria - sell them and keep the profit. Set up some kind of micro-finance loans or something to get the business started . . .

Joanna said they've been thinking of something like that for the last few years, and they've got no one to start it . . . Hmmmm. I don't know Greek, I know nothing about Nigerian basket-weaving, and I know very little about starting a business . . . but I've learned enough from ICCD to at least know some of the questions I need to start asking so I can maybe organize something . . .

And if I came back . . . two years? Five years? Maybe we could get it started together . . .

What I really want, though, Jesus, is to live in a world where racism isn't breaking the backs of your people anymore. Let Your Kingdom come, Jesus . . . for the sake of the Oppressed and the Oppressor. We need Your freedom. We need Your healing. We need You, Jesus . . . Jesus. The One who said that there is no Jew or Greek, in You we all are One . . . Come, Lord, set us free. Hallelujah to the King who REIGNS. Aslan is on the move . . .