Justice

Today’s blog post comes to you live from the Sokimex gas station. No, I’m not filling up the tank in the motorbike I purchased this week. I’m here for the free wireless in the coffee shop. In Cambodia, it’s actually “cool” to hang out at the gas station (not all have the coffee shop), have an ice cream, and simply sit inside (I suspect it’s the air conditioning). So I’m here, watching the clouds roll in, waiting for today’s downpour, a regular Saturday afternoon visit to a Starbucks—except that no one is speaking English. Oh, and I’m the only one with a computer.

Recently, churches across the nation received a letter reminding them of the legal rights of Christian churches to evangelize and the need to register with the government. Unlike the US, the state religion is Buddhism, and while the church has relative freedom to meet and to talk about faith, it is not as though Christians are the majority here (we just passed the 1% mark). A couple of well-known American Christian authors, and some international worship bands were here this summer for big events, and the way they interacted with the government was… well, embarrassing. After they were refused the use of largest venue here, Olympic Stadium, one group apparently bribed the office in charge of granting permission. At the last minute, other government agencies were told, and could not guarantee the safety of attendees. The concert and outreach were cancelled, hours before the event. That morning, I sat in a smaller gathering with this author, as she proclaimed that the government was making things worse by keeping her out of the stadium, that God was on the move, and “what were they so afraid of anyway?” Her taunts, though designed to inspire, were arrogant and prideful in a culture where relationship and humility are the keys to understanding.

This morning, I sat in a meeting about church interactions with the Cambodian government. An Indian pastor spoke about the role of the Church in restricted contexts—places in which the Body of Christ is the minority, and even faces attack for our beliefs. In places like Cambodia, “Western” models of evangelism and missions don’t always work; they can be offensive and inconsiderate to people who live differently. Yet, what the Church stands for—grace, mercy, and peace—transcend these cultural boundaries. And what opens up for us is a place to act in the name of our faith. The pastor reminded us that the Church, no matter our denominational or doctrinal demarcations, can act for justice.

This concept of justice—a Holy justice, a healing justice—is not tied up in politics. It isn’t about making sure our candidate goes through, or that our agenda is passed. Justice is about giving a voice to those who are unable to speak. I spent last week with some friends from California who were here to meet with NGOs who respond to issues of human trafficking and the sex trade. What does justice look like for the young girls who are sold or kidnapped and taken to the brothels? Who will act for them? Who will cry out on their behalf? Other examples come to mind… civilians in Iraq and Afghanistan. Who will stand for those innocents caught up in war, to make sure that their country is rebuilt and restored, without a competition for oil profits, and with respect for the traditions of their faith and the horrors of armed conflict?

As a Body, we have a responsibility to stand in the gap for those trapped by injustice—and not just those who agree with us. Regardless of faith, location, or political beliefs, as Christians we believe that human life is valuable to God, and is worth saving. We can intercede in many ways. Our voices. Our money. Our lifestyles Our conversations. Our prayers. Justice is not to be separated from our faith. Isaiah 1:17-18: Seek justice, encourage the oppressed. Defend the cause of the fatherless, plead the case of the widow. "Come now, let us reason together," says the Lord. "Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool.” I don’t think it is an accident that these words about our intercession for others come right before the Lord’s promise of intercession on our behalf.

A final thought. The pastor concluded with this quote, from Rev. Martin Niemöller, a German pastor during WWII. Though Niemöller was initially a supporter of Nazi beliefs, it is his later life and his thoughts that inspire me to believe that even apathetic, afraid, and ambivalent individuals can be agents for change, reconciliation, and justice.

First they came for the Communists, and I didn’t speak up,
because I wasn’t a Communist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I didn’t speak up,
because I wasn’t a Jew.
Then they came for the Catholics, and I didn’t speak up,
because I was a Protestant.
Then they came for me, and by that time there was no one left
to speak up for me.