Purpose

What does it mean to give up privilege?

Posted on by Angela Madaha

Privilege.

It can be a pretty hot topic word nowadays.

“Our mission is to serve the underprivileged.”

“They’re just a bunch of spoiled, privileged rich kids.”

“What’s all the talk about ‘white privilege’? I don’t act privileged.”

As much as we’d like to attach behavior to privilege, that isn’t actually the definition of it.

You see, having a privilege is something you swim in. Like a fish, you can’t tell that you are wet. You just are.

And like a fish, often you didn’t choose or control the world of privileges that you were given. It’s not necessarily a good or bad thing either.

It just is what it is.

The only time a fish can realize that it functions best being wet is only when it’s taken out of the water. Then, scarily enough, it realizes the thing that caused it’s world to function best was the water it swam in.

Where privilege gets confused.

What we have in our world is not a problem of fish living happily and functionally in good water. That’s a perfectly good thing.

It when those fish don’t realize that it’s the water that gave them an advantage and they assume that it was all their hard work and good morals that caused their success.

It’s when they hold their same high expectations to the other less fortunate fish that were washed up on shore due to a storm and haven’t been able to get back into the water.

The difference between the 2 fish isn’t hard work and intelligence.

The difference is one lives in the water, and one doesn’t.

Where privilege goes wrong.

Sometimes the fish that are doing well swimming in the ocean get really bitter when the fish on the shore are given help to get into the water (especially if it’s a government program).

The fish complain, “But I did all this hard work to build my life in this ocean, and that lazy fish over there is in that situation due to it’s own choices. Don’t you dare use our water to assist. That fish needs to create it’s own ocean.”

Often these fish don’t even realize they are wet and swimming in a high-functioning ocean, that the systems around them benefitted them to a place of success.

When you don’t know you have privilege, you can only be judgmental.

When you know you have privilege but don’t want to share it, you can only be selfish.

What do we do with privilege?

Now, some of us recognize the certain privileges that got us to where we are (ranging from education, literacy, gender, race, family, wealth, place of birth, country of origin), and some of us have more of them than others.

But we’re somewhat unsure of what to do with those privileges.

We can’t deny them. They exist. I live in it. I’m the fish that’s sopping wet with those privileges.

So, we can simply embrace them and accept the realities of the benefits we individually have.

“I acknowledge that coming from a family of high morals and ethics have me a privilege of soundness of mind, of childhood development knowing I am loved and worthwhile, and of family support for my life decisions.”

“I acknowledge that being white grants me safety, respect, and perception of power and wealth in many places in the world, including my home country.”

“I acknowledge that being a male immediately grants me better work opportunities and higher pay, while also bestowing a presence of power in most settings.”

So I get the part where we accept what is and become aware of it.

But I really struggle with what to do with my privilege.

Normally, we start getting all action-oriented and start making plans.

“Ok, so I have all these benefits that others don’t. I have decent income and a wealth of business knowledge, so thus I’m going to use my privileges to help all these other people that don’t have them.”

We make of list of all the people that don’t have what we have, who don’t have lives that we have, who we view as definitely under-privileged, and we take our plans to them to tell them exactly what they should do in order for them to be equal like us.

Because we want equality, right? Justice and equity for all?

But I soon came to realize that they only reason I could make these decisions to help is because I have the power to. That even my decision to step out and “help” came from a direct privilege.

So what does it mean then to serve others not from a place of power, when typically even the choice to serve comes from the powerful ability to make that decision?

As a Christian, I look at the life of Jesus to find direction here. He obviously was the standard for giving up privilege and power to serve people. And boy did he sure help and change people’s lives!

This verse in Philippians 2 has particularly been captivating my mind for months now:

You must have the same attitude that Christ Jesus had. Though he was God, he did not think of equality of God as something to cling to. Instead, he gave up his divine privileges; he took the humble position of a slave and was born as a human being. When he appeared in human form, he humbled himself in obedience to God and died a criminal’s death on the cross.

What does it mean to give up our privileges?

If helping others means that we have to hold on to our privileges and power in order to help, then what does it actually mean to give up our privileges for the sake of others?

A privilege revelation while on Care and Compassion

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We drove the bumpy, dusty roads of Nylenda, an area in Kisumu, Kenya. Kisumu is a pretty developed city in Kenya, the third largest in the country, but several parts are impoverished and stuck in cycles of poverty.

Those slums — those are the targets for this team. We rode with a group of 3 Kenyans who have dedicated their lives to caring for the most sick and and AIDS-infected in Kisumu. In fact, they call their team “Care and Compassion.” Armed with medical knowledge and humongous hearts, they find the most needy and most sick, and support them into a hopefully stable condition. Stable physically, emotionally, spiritually.

We went from home to home, seeing several people in various stages of health. But more often than not, they were barely skin and bones, struggling with HIV and AIDS and often with other sicknesses like tuberculosis.

As difficult as it was to see, I was grateful to be with such a great team who was caring for these people in such loving, wholesome ways.

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But then — I’ll never forget the last home. We walked to the door way of a home, and sitting right inside of the doorway was a lady perhaps not older than 40. She was sitting slumped over on a mat, unable to even lift her head to greet us. As we walked by we tried to shake her frail, limp hand.

As we came to understand the situation, everything about it seemed hopeless. No one would help her. Due to the stigma of AIDS, her neighbors wouldn’t take her to the hospital, and even her son who lived there wouldn’t help out. We brought food with us, but there would be no way for her to make the food or take her medications properly.

Even though this team was there to support her in getting back to good health, they worked in partnership with families so that dependency wasn’t created. They also didn’t have resources to handle all aspects of transportation, cooking, administering medications, etc. This situation was pretty desperate, though, they recognized. So they knew that very soon they would have to intervene.

As we drove back home, this idea of giving up privilege to serve came back to me, and I mulled over those verses in Philippians 2 and thought how maybe I was laying aside privileges like Jesus did to do this work.

And then the revelation came, with the not-so-comfortable truth.

Angela, to give up privilege is to literally switch places.

What? Switch places with this woman? No, I think I would do better to help her out, use my voice and resources and intellect to make a difference.

But would you switch places with her?

Switch places?? Eh, well, I guess I could. And I’m sure I could figure things out. I know I’d have my family that would help me by taking me to the hospital, and I know I’d have access to healthcare options to get my medication, and I have a lot of friends and networks who would intervene, and I already know how to start businesses so I could get myself back on track financially . . .

No no, you’d have to lose those things too. You can’t take any of them with you when you switch places.

But . . . without those things I’d be . . .

Nothing. 

What does it take to lose privileges?

Well, in short, it requires everything.

And that’s a pretty steep cost. Pretty much too radical.

In order to be willing to lose privileges for the sake of others, only one thing would ever motivate someone to make that move.

And that one thing?

Love. 

That’s it.

No one would ever do that much sacrifice for any other reason. It’s simply too much to lose ourselves without any promise of return.

Which then made me realize why Jesus’ love is so astounding. 

In just a little way, I was able to imagine for a moment the audacity of Jesus’ birth and coming to earth.

In a crude micro-comparison, it would be like me losing everything, my position and education and money and friendships and family and history and color and power, and taking the body of an AIDS-infected friend-less woman and sitting helplessly on the floor with no ability to care for herself.

What humility that would take.

And yet that’s the humility He exemplified by leaving behind his privileges as the very Son of God, and taking on the confined body of a human, and being like us, in all it’s limitations and brokenness.

And the only reason Jesus would do something like that?

For love.

He did that so that you and me could be in his family. So that we could have relationship with him. So that we could advantage of his God-privileges.

He switched places. 

He took our AIDS and gave us whole life.

He took our broken relationships and gave us loving families.

He took our self-destruction and gave us Image-bearing love.

He took our shame and gave us everlasting hope.

And this is the best example of humility we can have.

This is what it means to give up privilege.

It looks like love.

It looks like humility.

It looks like losing ourselves so that someone else can advance.

And it’s a whole more extreme, and life-changing, then we could ever imagine.

So then the question isn’t how much can you do with the privileges you’ve been given.

It’s how much can you humble yourself and sit in the place of another and love them unconditionally and lose yourself so that they might advance.

And Just Like That, She Bloomed

Posted on by Angela Madaha

Earlier this summer I bought a hanging plant.

There were no blooms on it yet. Just a bunch of dirt it seemed, but the price was right and I thought for sure it held some promise.

So I hung it on my balcony in a prominent place.

And waited.

And watered.

And waited.

And watered.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

But for a long time, perhaps several weeks, nothing happened. I couldn’t figure it out — was I destroying it up with too much water, or was it a dud plant, or did it get too much sun exposure?

It seemed odd. And slightly disappointing.

Maybe . . . there wasn’t even a plant there after all.

But I kept up the process, nevertheless.

Because for some stubborn notion giving up is never an option. Especially when I dropped a whole two dollars for it.

And so continued the daily drudgery of watering, waiting, watching.

Eventually, I’m a little sad to say, I stopped expecting anything. I was sure then that if it ever did bloom, it would most likely be sad, pathetic flowers that made even itself cry.

From the externals, there was no hint of anything good coming out of this plant. Even when I poured water on the plant, it seemed to go straight through and drop out of the bottom. Did it even retain anything?

But then, a day before I left for Africa, I walked out the back door, as always each morning, and about fell over myself.

It was a massive, gorgeous, stunning display of the richest purple flowers. Covering the plant, overflowing the sides. And with purple, my favorite color.

It took my breath away, because I had been inwardly longing for so long, and it happened so suddenly. And the first thought that came to my mind was,

And just like *that*, it bloomed.

What immediately followed next was a prophetic message that went deeper and struck my soul as God whispered to me,

And just like *that*, she bloomed.

And I knew at that point my life would be completely different.

The seasons were changing. The past was behind. Breakthrough had arrived.

It was as if my life flashed before my eyes and I knew one hand was releasing the past, and the other was grabbing ahold of the future. I had been dry for so long. Now is was time to bloom.

And I thought on it all, on the a story behind this — this long, suffering, blooming process.

You see, for oh-so-many years I thought there was promise, I had so much hope

That this plant of mine would come alive,

Soaking and waiting, and watering and hoping.

Living on hope until the last drop gave out.

And it seemed as if water poured endlessly into the drought.

So disappointed in how it only seemed to die

Time and time and time again.

Dripping through, no soaking up,

Bleeding out, no living out.

Depression and fear my nearest friends,

A future blurred out by a pain that never ends.

But I failed to see the journey in full

Must pass through death on its way to life,

That the driest spell is a burial ground

For the bitter wounds of shame and lies.

Dripping through – pain, betrayal, unforgiveness

Bleeding out – lust, self-loathing, pride

Day after day, dry after dry, pouring after pouring

Not giving up, not giving in — just giving, strong and weak.

The process – oh so long

The change and promise – oh so slow.

Sometimes staring too long at a thing

Develops a loss of perspective,

A resentment towards the loss of time and investment.

But then it came — like a night time firework,

A bursting fall tree, a surprise party.

And I could hardly believe it,

I — the most shocked of all.

You see, just like *that*

She bloomed

The most radiant of colors, the brilliance of form

Just — absolutely radiating, a wedding day bride

She was hiding no longer, entering into public eye

So proud, so self-respectful, so free

Not a whisper, but shouting with blossoms

All may see, all may talk, all may wonder

But to her nothing matters

Because the shackles of drought are gone

The time of truth has come

And truth has never been so lovely, so becoming

I can never go back

Blooming has changed me forever.

I’m glad that nature tells us a story that reflects the hope of life and future. Even when life dies and we want the world around us to reflect the death we feel inside, somehow Spring always comes around. Nature keeps following it’s created course.

Death, seed, water, growth, bloom.

Around and around the circle it goes.

And similarly, we get the same path in life.

Seasons. Change. Motion.

And life wouldn’t really be all that wonderful if it were always Spring, right?

Those flowers that bloomed — they really meant something to me because I poured so much time and expectation into them. The waiting can be a painful experience, but it can also be more like the waiting and anticipation of watching the fuse burn towards an exploding firework. Perhaps we have a choice in how we wait.

Dryness and death and cold and bare only make Spring that much more brilliant and wonderful.

So hold on to your dry, bedraggled plant. Water it with your tears. Sleep with it by your side.

Because you never know when the blooming day is coming.

And it’s coming. Oh yes it is!

“Weren’t you afraid to travel to Africa?”

Posted on by Angela Madaha

“It turns out that the more you watch TV, the more you believe that the world is dangerous. It turns out TV watchers believe that an astonishing 5% (!) of the population works in law enforcement. And it turns out that the more you watch TV the less optimistic you become. Cultivation theory helps us understand the enormous power that TV immersion has.” – Seth Godin

I took a trip to East Africa this summer

It wasn’t all that surprising, I guess, for those that know me. Last year I went to India and China, and you can often find me exploring big cities in America’s sea to shining sea, and taste-testing every ethnic restaurant that catches my fancy. My friend group in Chicago includes a wide range of color, culture, and country of origin.

And I love it.

I love it because there’s no structure or paternalism. There isn’t one side of giving, and one side of receiving. It’s mutual. It’s authentic.

It is always easy? Not really. Sometimes I’m embarrassed I forget basic things — like how to pronounce the name of my friend from Iran who I met for the 2nd or 3rd time, or have to ask my friend why African Americans never learned to swim, or ask the girl with Indian heritage if she was a vegetarian (yes, oh yes, that did happen).

It’s hard because you want to be a part of the group, to be included, but the lack of knowledge exposes the breach of integration and your often complete ignorance.

I’m used to it now, used to the tension and the vulnerability of outsider-ness.

I even lean into it all. You see, it was really through that bumpy path that I found a lot of meaningful relationships, understanding of how people relate to each other, and what’s actually most important in this world.

Which leads me to the topic at hand:

Why were Americans concerned for me when I traveled to Africa?

I mean, did you forget that I live in Chicago? The city ravaged by gun violence like that of a war-torn country?

But let’s talk about that as it illustrates a similar vein: people across the country are scared of Chicago . . . until they really get to know me. They see how interesting my life is, all the fun places I visit and bike by on a daily basis, the generous and smart friends I have, the ground-breaking anti-trafficking work the city is nationally known for, and the beautiful gems in parks all around the city.

And, wouldn’t you know it, by the end of our conversation it seems like the narrative in their mind has changed a bit. “Hm, maybe Chicago isn’t that bad . . . I think I want to visit someday.”

Amazing how getting to know someone is so completely transformative.

So how do people get scared of places like Chicago? like Africa?

At some point information was passed on. And it was communicated in a way that best benefited the sender of the information.

Because those in power get to tell the stories they way they want to.

If money and ratings are the top motivator, then the human instinct to tap into is obvious:

Fear.

It pays. And it pays well.

Biologically, our minds and bodies respond much more strongly to fear because fear helps motivate us to protect ourselves in dangerous situations. We are conditioned to react intensely, fight or flight. We literally stop thinking with any sense or logic. The current situation triggers the mind to do one thing at the expense of all others in order to keep ourselves alive.

Are you afraid of the Boogie Monster?

We feed ourselves a constant flow of fear, which rarely depicts the reality of the world. We power up the computer and switch on the television, and then sit back for our daily dose of a hot cup of fear.

Television and internet articles bait us into fear, paralyzing fear. And we eat it up — it tastes so good, and so bad. All senses are heightened and triggered. Over time it becomes an addiction. Like a battered woman tied to her abusive husband, the trauma bonds entangle her in ways so deep it seems impossible to escape.

It’s hard to get used to normal when you’re always high on afraid.

I find it fascinating that so many people are afraid of something or someone they’ve never even seen or experienced. 

Like the Boogie Monster hiding under the bed. Your 6-year old self has never seen it or experienced it, but your older brother has fed you terrifying stories for months and now you live in it’s reality.

The invisible Boogie Monster now controls you. And it’s not even real.

Do you think Africa is the Boogie Monster?

When you talk about Africa as an American, are your illustrations and references all about war and killings and terrorism and violence?

And maybe that really is all you know about Africa. Not all of us get the opportunity to live next door to foreigners or travel internationally in a culturally engaging way. But at least preface your perspective by saying, “But you know, the only source I’ve gotten my information from is television, popular media, and American missionaries– I’ve never actually visited or talked to Africans about this. And I could be wrong, but this is my perspective from where I stand.”

Television and articles gives us the illusion that we experienced something firsthand . . . when in reality we really haven’t. Yes, I know research is good and important and it’s often combined with “eye witnesses.”

But seriously take the time to read sources that are African-led and narrated, and then make some personal relationships that are mutual.

If you can’t do any of those things, I understand. We’re all busy. But don’t control and direct the conversation. You are more than welcome to listen and observe.

Let’s be friends

I’ve been on my own journey through this fear mindset. At one point I really did believe what everyone was telling me on television and articles and platforms.

And then I traveled. And was positioned in a place of non-authority where all I could do was listen, observe, and serve.

And I was shocked by how still and quiet it was.

There was no lizard-brain, fear-controlled actions. It was peaceful, and enjoyable, and full of connection.

That’s when I realized that media outlets and popular speakers and religion can heartily take advantage of your ignorance to keep you tied up and coming back for more. More television, more clickbait, more crazy headlines, more one-sided stories.

That’s when I decided to learn this for myself, to see the real story as much as I could.

Are there dangerous, evil things happening around the world and in Africa?

Absolutely. I just wrote about the tragic and rampant problem of child sex trafficking in Mombasa, Kenya; I visited the brothel districts in India that are trapping girls and women for generations and it’s backed by both culture and police; I see Chicago’s gun death tolls continue to rise at record lengths.

Yes, we acknowledge the danger. Yet refuse to be controlled by it. Once we welcome fear, then we have no option but to obey it.

And once we obey fear, we can never impact our environments. Because it’s already impacting us.

So the greatest lesson here? It’s not just that we shouldn’t be afraid of places like Africa due to emotionally-triggered news. It’s also not simply just that we should expose ourselves to more people and relationships outside our own culture.

It’s that fear has got to go so that we can impact our cities, and countries, and the world.

Because I bet you never read a world-changer’s autobiography that concluded with, “And then I cozied up in my overstuffed chair, turned on the television, and posted articles about the unbelievably terrible things happening in the world.”

 

New friends I met during tea time in downtown Nairobi

Staff from Christ Hope International making chapati for lunch in Kampala, Uganda

Mothers of the some of the children at Christ’s Hope International sharing their stories in Mwanza, Tanzania

My new friend Lucy showing me around her family’s tea farm and property in Kenya

The vast, beautiful tea farms in Limuru, Kenya

Talking with women from the brothel districts in India

Hanging out with children at a daycare in Nairobi

Exploring the streets of Hong Kong

Is it possible to be both single and happy? From yours truly, this Valentine’s Day.

Posted on by Angela Madaha

Is it possible to be both single and happy?

It’s an intriguing question, really.

This is not ever really a direct question anyone says towards me, but sometimes it’s implied: how can you be single and happy at the same time? Not only do I feel that implication from the world around me at literally every corner, but I also at times come face to face with the question myself.

Is singleness and happiness mutually exclusive?

And just to heighten the intensity, let’s ask that on Valentine’s Day. On the cultural celebratory day of love, when you don’t have a lover, is it possible to be happy?

Let’s explore this.

This has been a top-of-mind topic since it’s come up in three separate conversations in the last 2 weeks. And those conversations have been specifically with women who feel that desire to be with someone, to be married, but also feel like, “Am I just waiting around to start living my life?”

It comes from a tension, an insecurity about committing to a specific path or personal values when knowing that means possibly saying no to a relationship, to marriage.

For females, this is an especially difficult conundrum. In our world, especially the Christian culture, there’s always an expectation, whether quietly implied or explicitly exhorted, to find our purpose and mission through a man and through marriage. Here’s the implication:

If you’re going to mean something to this world, it’s going to come through another human being.

Though that’s a duo-gender message, for females this is often paired with the concept of submission. To submit.

And it is until we do this flawlessly, submit our will and purpose through another human being, then we will find true happiness and meaning.

Say that out loud. Sometimes logically and verbally expressing that belief brings us to a stark realization:

That conclusion is not reflective of who God is and how God made us.

First of all, in the Garden of Eden, before the Fall and any sin, God gave a job before he gave marriage. God gave purpose in an intimately personal way before giving a path to do that alongside another person.

This means that each of us is made individually unique before God — which means we each are special, set apart, called, and meaningful. Though we need community and relationships to thrive, we only need God individually to have meaning. To tie a human being to our core purpose means to resign ourselves to co-dependency, that in order to have meaning, I must be attached to you.

So, from the beginning, we are missioned and meaning-full. When God looks at you, He sees a full person that has a unique name.

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Second, let’s look at the word that trips us all up: submission. If one day I’m supposed to release my will and life to another person, then why would I start my own knowing I’d have to give that up? Would my primary value as a wife be my ability to serve men? And if I’m supposed to only find it through a husband, then why would I think I’d ever have something special to offer the world? And if submission only applied to marriage, then are singles not supposed to submit to anything?

I love what Lisa Bevere* said about this topic: “I heard a definition of submission that framed and aligned it with God’s plan for all Christians, not just couples. Consider this: the prefix sub means “under,” and mission is an assignment. Put them together, and we can draw a conclusion that submission means “under the same assignment or mission.”

This gives so much more intentionality and thought behind not just personal mission, but also marriage. Instead of fearfully thinking, “In order to be married, I have to loss my mission,” instead we can think, “When I choose a marriage partner, it’s because we are under the same mission together.”

Why would God ask you to submit to God ultimately, to be sent on His mission in the world, and then nullify that unique mission because you are now married?

God’s mission and call is always greater than man’s, no matter who that person is.

Which is why I think, as single women, we can freely and fearlessly move into outrageous acts of mission because that doesn’t deter God’s path or purpose for us. It will actually move us closer to the best outpouring of it.

What does this have to do with happiness?

Actually, I don’t think this has anything to do with happiness. Which is the point of this article.

I’ll use my own story as an example because I’ve always wrestled with that question: Am I happy?

Though I love being happy and can easily pinpoint those moments of extreme highs in my life (picture me prancing carelessly through a wheat field throwing flowers into the wind), I realized pretty early on that that picture of “happiness” never really motivated me. For such a long time I was always obsessed with one thing: purpose.

I mean, check out this blog title. And no, Vita By Design is not some sort of customized vitamin supplement. Vita means “life.” And By Design means, “on purpose.”

One life, on purpose.

I have a bit of an odd history, per se, with all the moves and experiences in my life. There were many crisis moments of change and I wasn’t satisfied with trite answers about silver linings. I wanted to know “why?” What was the purpose?

It began as a practice in youth and has continued through today. And I can’t say it’s been easy. Actually, a better word would be messy.

And throughout the time of trying so hard to find purpose in my life, I had to live with the question of singleness in the back of my mind. Am I resigning to singleness in order to find purpose?

From my perspective, it’s most likely only been down the road of singleness that I have found personal meaning in this world through God. I’ve had to let go of figuring out who I am in light of another person or of the expectations others perceive of me. I’ve sat down over long spaces of time and let God really show me who I am. Honestly, I was always terrified of that person because it’s much too abnormal. It took being threatened, mocked, and on the verge of losing everything before I was willing to stand up for myself and say, “No, I’m a person with worth who has a gifting in a specific way.”

You remembering that part about messy? You don’t even know the half. It’s been in this dirt of bitterness, shame and oppression (both outwardly and inwardly) that all seeds of goodness have been planted. And the harvest is the obvious things. That’s what you get to see — accomplishment, mercy, kind actions, goodness, justice for humanity. But you weren’t there when it was planted, all the bitterness, pain, self-shaming, hate for my life and my heart, loss of belief in any of the goodness or reality of God. No one else was there to save me from that.

Besides God.

Sometimes I wonder if we, as single women (or men I suppose), never get to taste the true God because we’re always looking for someone else to be our Savior. To tell us what to do when confused, to save us from despair when all is lost, to provide for us when we’re flat broke, to comfort us when we’re lost and afraid.

I remember at one specific epic low point in my life, after I had lost all the work I had and a job offer, I thought for the first time in my life, “Maybe this is why girls get married? So that when these things happen she can rely on someone else to provide for her?” It was a bitter moment, because I knew I could no longer provide for myself, financially or emotionally.

But that’s exactly when I found God as my true Husband. He showed up and he saved the day. I mean, there was a journey involved that was extremely hard. I remember not having money to buy food that day and realizing, “Well, looks like I’m fasting and praying this week!” And judging by where my life is today 2 1/2 years later, I would say it work 😉

Now here’s the hardest part of all of us, and I know that because I’ve fought it continually: if I step out and into a defined mission that I believe is tailored for me, then that means I won’t ever get married, because guys are only looking for girls that fit into their own life trajectory.

Now, once we say it out loud, it sounds a bit silly. But it’s TOTALLY real when dwelling on it, right?? And it does actually makes sense to a degree. When I train businesses on marketing, we intentionally lead them to define a target market, and that makes them really uncomfortable, because then that might be saying no to some people. But that’s what we want. We want some people to see their business and think, “Yes that’s for me!” and others to think, “Nope, that’s not for me at all.”

Choosing to live and stand for your beliefs and personal passions is going to immediately polarize some crowds. And I hate that feeling. But it’s true. And it’s actually a good thing that certain people will be attracted to you more than others due to your life choices.

And if anyone gets this, believe me, it’s me. I have been so torn and uncomfortable with my calling. Words like, “Inadequate, unprepared, naive, un-understanding, and pointless” are my constant companion when standing in the gap for those who have been sexually exploited and trafficked. I’ve come so close to giving up on this in the past because I’ve felt so incapable and unworthy.

On top of that, leaning into this mission means I’m committed to certain counter-culture things: doing outreach at strip clubs and other places of adult entertainment, believing in abstinence and then a monogamous life through marriage, exposing the harms of pornography, advocating for healing in our communities due to the brokenness through the sexualization of women. I really did believe and fear that moving into this calling would render me single forever because I couldn’t imagine men being vulnerable enough to partner with my mission from God. I just never saw too many examples of that.

This is also why I died a thousand times in my heart and soul when the mic taps were released of Trump’s verbal description of how he thinks about and uses women. It wasn’t simply that he did that (I see that everyday in the fight against sexual exploitation). It was the visceral defense of that action from not just the general community, but from Christians — men and women.

“That’s just how men are,” and “It’s standard locker room talk,” and “Boys will be boys,” and “Why should we have standards when that’s the way the culture is anyway?”

Watching this play out choked me with alone-ness and fear of the future of all women. That if we don’t submit to this belief that we are naive and unbelievable.

But in short answer to that fear, it’s not true. Men are not supposed to talk like that. Humans are not supposed to use each other. We should have standards for how we think about, treat, and talk to women and men. Period.

Which one will you choose?

As you can imagine, it can be an internal storm, and I don’t think I’m exempt or unusual. We live this — a fear that we’ll have to choose, man or mission.

At the end of the day, I believe each of us, married or single, have to look back and assess, “Did I live up to my God-given gifts today?”

Does it mean it’s a paid position, or a social cause, or a title? I don’t think so. At my core, I believe my life calling is Mercy. Which isn’t super popular because it doesn’t jive well with common sense. But despite what others may think or interpret it as, that is what gives me meaning each day and I have only God to answer for how well I lived that out.

Am I happy?

Finally we get here. Am I a happy and single girl on Valentine’s Day?

Honestly, I can’t say I am. Once I start asking myself “Am I happy?” I start remembering all the pain that has stolen good, happy moments in my life that isn’t necessarily even related to relationships. The wounds start throbbing again and I easily make a case for all the reasons I’m not fulfilled.

we-werent-made-to-be-happy

But here’s the thing: I don’t think we were made to be happy. Happy implies a lack of strains and cares. It’s a false reality we think we can obtain by building walls around ourselves and staying as safe as we possibly can, the thought that only hurt-less people are truly happy people.

I look back at my life and some of my “highest” moments were moments when I was living purely who I am and who I was made to be. It was those Mercy-filled moments when God’s purpose and my gifts collided. It hasn’t always been a happy life, per se. But it sure has been meaningful.

So, is this single girl happy on Valentine’s Day? I guess not. But I sure do have meaning.

And, you know what?

I guess that’s what makes me so happy.

I’ll end with a selection from Ron Rolheiser which has additionally inspired me recently in light of conversations with friends about singleness. I hope you lean into desiring a meaningful life today, not necessarily a happy one. I think that comes after the meaningful part.

Am I happy? Is my life a happy one? Am I happy inside my marriage? Am I happy with my family? Am I happy in my job? Am I happy with my church? Am I happy inside my own skin?

Are these good questions to ask ourselves? No. They’re questions with which to torture ourselves. When we face our lives honestly this kind of question about happiness is more likely to bring tears to our eyes than solace to our souls because, no matter how well our lives are going, none of us live perfectly fulfilled lives. Always there are unfulfilled dreams. Always there are areas of frustration. Always there are tensions. Always there are deeper hungers that are being stifled

The question should not be: Am I happy? Rather the questions should be: Is there meaning in my life? Is there meaning in my marriage? Is there meaning in my family? Is there meaning in my job? Is there meaning inside my church?

We need to ask the deep questions about our lives in terms of meaning rather than in terms of happiness because, for the most part, we have a false, over-idealized, and unrealistic concept of happiness.

We tend to equate happiness with two things, pleasure and lack of tension. Hence we fantasize that for us to be happy we would need to be in a situation within which we would be free of all the tensions that normally flood into our lives.

But that isn’t what constitutes happiness. Meaning is what constitutes happiness and meaning isn’t contingent upon pain and tension being absent from our lives:  Imagine if someone had come up to Jesus as he was dying on the cross and asked him the question: Are you happy up there? His answer, I am sure, would have been unequivocal: “No!” However, the perspective is quite different if, while on the cross, Jesus would have been asked this question: “Is there meaning in what you are doing up there?”

There can be deep meaning in something even if there isn’t happiness in the way we superficially conceive of it.

*quote from Lisa Bevere’s book, Lioness Arising.

Give as you have been given

Posted on by Angela Madaha

It’s been almost a year and a half now since I began going on outreach to Asian massage parlors.

We were the first New Name route to start in the city of Chicago so this was breaking new ground. I didn’t really know what I was doing, but, knowing it was led of God, I plunged ahead in the way I only know how: full of ambiguity and a hope that eventually we figure this out.

It’s been a bit simpler, and a whole lot more complex, than I imagined. Simple in the fact that as a team we have no hidden agenda. We really do simply have conversations and develop relationships with the women in the spas. In fact, the whole agenda list is as follows:

We see you, we care about you, we are here for you. And, by the way, we aren’t going anywhere.

We’ve pretty consistently gone to 4 massage parlors in my neighborhood. And one in particular sits on my mind today.

Early last Spring I noticed “Grand Opening” signs for a massage parlor right around the corner from me. Whenever I would drive or bike towards Wrigleyville, I noticed the new spa. Even without going online to scope out reviews, I could tell it looked a little too similar. Neon signs, blinds in the windows, tacky massage stock images on the outside. I knew we needed to start going there for outreach.

So about 7 months ago we began visiting. Of all the spas we go to, this one has been the most odd and peculiar. In the few months we’ve gone, they have cycled through 3 sets of women. I’ll never forget one woman in particular who I felt I really connected with. Something about her was really. . . sad, yet beautiful. I hesitate to use “pitiful” because of course she is full of dignity.

When we first met her our 2nd time at that spa, everything about her was dissonant, confusing. She was probably early 30’s, thin, wearing odd clothes, too skimpy and mismatched for her countenance. Though slightly nervous, she quickly befriended us when she realized we were “safe,” especially having Cindy with us as an interpreter. How do I explain it? It was as if she was starving for acceptance and care.

She had recently arrived from China, perhaps only 3-4 months earlier. We found out about her 11 year old son and ailing parents. When we asked what she used to do for work in China, she hesitated then simply answered, “Nothing,” with a forced smile. Based off Cindy’s conversation with her, we came to understand that she came from a very poor village.

The more I looked at her, the more out of place she became. She had so much innocence about her; it was obvious she hadn’t been there long. We kept conversations light and superficial, talking about family and weather and travel. I walked out of there wondering if truly we were the only caring, interested conversation she’d had in a long time.

The next time we visited she was the only one in the front room, and I was overjoyed when we had an opportunity to talk more in-depth with her. Though our interpreter wasn’t with us, I had learned the power of translator apps while in China and India earlier that month. This was powerful because we kept our conversation quiet as we typed in the app and away from the ears of the security camera.

She believed that the only work she could do was massage (for those unsure of why this is a problem, Asian spas are often fronts of labor and sex trafficking), and she had to send money back to her very ill mother. We tried to communicate best we could that there are other ways to work here and that we could help if she needed. In fact, we could get her to immigration lawyers who would assist her in any way she needed, free of charge.

I again couldn’t help but notice how lost and out of place she looked, wearing this short dress and colored tights yet with body language that had almost a child-like presence. She kept smiling at us with her slightly crooked teeth and pretty eyes, even looking hopeful. She agreed to take my email address and we prayed with her before we left.

That was the last time I saw her.

New faces of uncertainty

We walked into this same spa the next month expecting to see the same women, but we were met with two unfamiliar faces, and they were immediately almost frightened of us as we walked in confidently and started chatting with them. It was a quick reminder to me that although our team is used to doing this all the time, it’s not normal at all for these women to have visitors that aren’t there as customers. It’s like, “Who the heck are these people and what do they want from us??”

After assuring them that we weren’t trying to sell anything or wanted to get information from them, they relaxed a little. We simply came to bring gifts and talk.

“Ok, ok, “ they said, with plenty of unconfidence.

I sat next to one girl, we’ll call her Sally. She hugged a pillow to her chest most of the time and didn’t engage. Whenever I looked at her she seemed far away, a tinge of sadness and fear. She really didn’t want to talk. The other woman opened up a little bit, especially since Cindy could communicate with her in her own language. We found out then that they had just arrived to this spa and didn’t know about the women who had been there previously.

We left knowing that was more or less a typical first encounter. A mixture of surprise, insecurity, fear and the most dreaded basic small talk conversation ever. But that’s the reality — it takes months of consistency and commitment before we gain any openness.

And now we come to last weekend, our Christmas outreach. Friday night we stuffed stockings with various gifts and candy for the women in the spas, and on Saturday Cindy and I headed out armed with these love bombs.

Because of travel, it had been two months since I had been to Sally’s spa. We had been praying frequently over this one because many sketchy details had surfaced in the few months we had been going compounded with information I found online. I wasn’t even sure if the same women would be there.

When we walked in, we were immediately welcome by Sally herself. And boy, was it a night and day difference!

She ushered us to the couch, sat on the other, and chatted away with us. At one point the conversation was so comfortable I felt like we could’ve stayed for hours, which, as you may surmise, is very unusual for our outreach. She seemed so young and cheery. It totally brightened my day to see her so comfortable with us.

We showed her the stocking and the gifts inside for her and her coworker. She was amazed.

“It’s incredible that you are so kind and give gifts to us. That’s so unusual.”

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Give as you have been given.

I took a breath in, a breath out. In that moment the past year flashed before my eyes.

Just a week earlier over Thanksgiving I decided I needed to take time to write down all the ways I have gained in the previous year. Name all the gifts. I found that I get caught up with achieving the next goal or getting tied down with struggles that I forget what has even transpired in my life.

For me, moving to Chicago and the first few years here held mostly loss, it seemed. Or at least consistent inconsistency. It seemed like I could never get ahead and on some sort of stable footing in any part of my life. Though it was the least of my concerns, I didn’t have many possessions or home furnishings. I never had much money or a stable income. My community shifted constantly and my relationships seemed just as fluid. I was trying to dream but mostly it felt like I was just trying to survive. Add on to that emotional upheavals time after time and there you have the perfect storm.

But in the whirlwind of this past year I forgot about the gifts.

Upon gifts.

Upon gifts.

Upon gifts.

Actually around 67 to be exact. Yes, I counted.

And those aren’t just all minor ones, I might add. Some of them were dreams and prayers years in the making.

Like how I got to begin teaching entrepreneurship classes and connect women in the adult industry into this course.

Like how I traveled out of country to Hawaii, India and China.

Like how I was able to reach out to women and children in brothels in India.

Like how our outreach team went from 1 to 4 routes in the city in one year.

Like how I have a fully furnished home when one year ago it was pretty close to empty.

Like how I have money in my bank account and don’t have to agonize over every dollar I spend.

Like how I’ve been able to host 4 people in my home who needed a place to stay intermittently.

And many more. So many. Overwhelming many.

And I couldn’t believe how quickly I forgot. All of a sudden I look at my full life and it looks worlds away from my move 2 1/2 years ago.

But what I do know is that I didn’t create all of that. It was all given. It’s all been gifts, all of it.

I think God needed my self-sufficiency to be brought to the end of myself so that He could show up and stand out without me getting in the way.

Because now I know, and now you know, that this was a work of God Almighty alone.

Give as you have been given.

Shifting back to reality, I looked back at Sally, mulling over again what she had just said,“It’s incredible that you are so kind and give gifts to us”, knowing how bewildering it would be to take that credit.

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I leaned in. “Sally, we give to you because we have been given so much. It’s just the overflow of our hearts. God has been so good to us.”

Nothing about that was cliché. It made a lump form in my throat in a surge of overwhelmed gratitude.

Sometimes I wonder if this is the only way to give, when my “enough” has run out and his abundance can pour in.

“Sally, have you ever read the Bible?”

She shook her head. “No, I never have.”

“If you want, we can show you more about God and how much he’s given to us.”

Cindy reached over and showed her how to download a Chinese/English Bible app, walking her through how it works.

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What can I give him, poor as I am?

Dwelling over that day, I think, “All we gave her was just a stocking!” Seriously, it was so simple. Nothing earth shattering or even majorly sacrificial.

Maybe generosity is more about the heart and less about the gift.

Intuitively, we all know and feel the difference. Even at Christmas.

There’s the standard gifts. And then there’s heart gifts. 

Normally those are unexplainable and kinda uncomfortable. Those make us feel vulnerable because they come from a place of genuine, unconditional love.

“I require nothing from you as you receive this gift. I love you because I love you because I love you because I love you.”

Christmas schools us in this, that a Child in a manger is the gift that never stops giving. He has the most joy because he’s always given the most love. And that, my friends, is the best and only example to follow.

At least, that’s what Christmas means to me.

What Are We So Afraid Of?

Posted on by Angela Madaha

The Strength Of Safety

I’ve been learning a lot about being safe. Inside safe. Emotionally safe. Only allowing influencers in my life who don’t emotionally use me and take advantage of my weaknesses. Sometimes it may even come down to, “I care about you, but I’m not safe around you. I need to leave.”

I’ve realized how very important it is to set up boundaries, to decide who is allowed to have access to my heart and who isn’t. There’s a sense of purpose and power in that, that I have a say and have control over my spirit.

I have the ability to make decisions about who speaks into my spirit.

Here is the irony though about this kind of safety–

When I am the most emotionally safe, I can walk into the most unsafe circumstances and be secure. and strong. and untouched. Because the circumstances around me don’t affect my sense of security. Even the people around me don’t have power to determine my safety.

I have one heart and one spirit that God has given it to me to steward. In deciding who gets to be close to me, it allows me to grow in love, and thus grow in safety. The more love I have capacity for, the more safe I am. The more safe I am internally, the more I am able to live freely externally without fear. This is because someone’s treatment of me in response to my open life doesn’t determine my sense of security, for good or bad.

Those who are most loved are most safe. They are the ones that help others become safe and loved.

Love and safe

The Dark Side Of Fear

On the flip side, those who are the most in fear are the ones who feel the most unsafe. They are always on the lookout to protect their own safety.

I know this all too well. The amount of fear I battle seems unreal. Many times I’ve been crushed under the weight of feeling unsafe. In those moments I have to step back and consider, “Why am I afraid? What is causing me to be unsafe and feel like I have to protect myself?”

Sometimes it’s been a relationship. It’s someone who I allowed to speak into me who I didn’t have any boundaries with that expressed verbal or emotional misbehavior towards me. In the fear cycle, I often look inward and take the blame, afraid to lose the relationship, and then I become very powerless and try to find a way to protect myself, which normally means trying to control that person or the atmosphere.

Sometimes it’s been in the work place. I’m afraid of someone finding out my mistakes, so I try to hide while I make everything perfect and presentable. Because if someone finds out I don’t have it all together then they will think less of me and I’m not valuable.

Sometimes it’s been in the community. I drive through the “rough” part of town and see lots of homeless people and drug use around. I’m afraid of feeling emotional for these people or getting taken advantage of, so I avoid even eye-contact with them.

Sometimes it’s been a national threat. After 911 my fear was controlled by whether or not there was a mosque in my town or by being in a plane with someone with tanner skin than I.

You see, if I’m afraid of something, I become powerless and lose control over myself, feeling the need to fight for the safety I feel threatened that I may lose. Because I have no internal safety keeping me steady.

The Source Of Security and Insecurity

But where does internal safety come from?

Love.

Where does internal unsafety come from?

Fear.

You know how powerful love is? Those who are the most steeped in love have the ability to live in the most unsafe, hazardous places. Not that they all do, but the power that makes it possible lives within them.

Because those external circumstances have no access to their heart, their source.

So if love rules our souls, if God (who is love inherently) is ruling, and the people we let speak into our souls are also reinforcing that same love, I dare say, what can we not do?

We can be powerful. We can reach further out. We can do seemingly scary things.

Because love leads us, not fear.

Since when were we promised external safety?

Never.

We ought to be the first to love when we have the most to lose. Because we count everything as loss compared to living in love like Christ and knowing him.

Love

It’s hard, because usually we’re afraid of what we don’t understand. Like those of a different religion. Or those of a different sexual lifestyle. Or those of different economic circumstances. Or those of a different color. Of those of a different culture.

I’m in the business world. I work with business owners and get to watch their fears play out. Why is it that the owners are typically afraid of the measly lower level employees?

Because when employees make suggestions for change, it means that the owner may lose something. Change isn’t good. When you’re in a place of privilege, change is threatening. Change causes fear, afraid that your position will be removed, that the safety net of money, power, and control will crumble around you.

This is normal for those who have lived in privilege, which, compared to the rest of the world, would be middle class Americans. Change is always threatening when you’re at the top and have nowhere to go but down.

Why is it that the under-privileged are the most open to change? Because they have something to gain from it. Because when you’re at the bottom you have nowhere to go but up.

So what’s the point?

When we look to our circumstances, and laws, and nations, and officials to set our compass for safety, we will always be afraid. Because we’re not ever in complete control of them.

However, when we live in a place of love, there cannot be fear. And we can accept an unsafe world. We can walk into an unsafe atmosphere knowing that we have a power residing within us that cannot be shaken.

So that’s why I ask,

What are we so afraid of?

You know what tempts me to be afraid?

Not Muslims. Not refugees. Not mass shootings. Not pro-abortion laws. Not marriage redefinition laws. Not pimps. Not Ebola.

What I’m afraid of is spending my whole life creating a paper mâché fortress around me so that I can be protected against the external evils of this world, living internally in bondage, chained to my own fear.

I’m afraid of not ever loving.

I’m afraid of not ever risking.

I’m afraid of not ever once looking like the real Jesus.

Lord, this Christmas give me the heart that would have been one of the shepherds that received you into this world. You were not just not from this country; you were not even from this world. 

Why in the world would I jubilantly sing about accepting a helpless baby in a manger with one hand raised, while pushing away a vulnerable refugee with the other hand?

Maybe we haven’t really received the vulnerable child in the manger yet? Maybe we only want the Jesus who reigns in power and judgment over the evil in this world and not the Jesus who was a meek, helpless baby?

Would we be the Herods of this generation that destroy all that threaten our outward sense of safety, position and control?

Or would we be the ones that welcome, yet even prize, the weak and vulnerable? and accept even the miraculous— because, seriously, a virgin having a baby is seriously threatening to my religious sense of right, wrong and possible.

Jesus went through the whole process. He came from a different culture, he was a newborn exposed to animal mess in a barn, he with his parents were vulnerable refugees, he was a child, a student, an apprentice, a laborer, a leader, a sufferer, a convicted criminal, a dead man, a resurrected King.

He can relate with he most powerless and with the most powerful in this world.

He is our only model. His humility is the only way for us to live. His safety is our only confidence. His love is the only thing that empowers us to love.

And his truth trumps every other opinion.

Let’s not react in fear. Let’s not be like Peter. When he saw that Jesus was threatened in the garden (and actually, Jesus was going to be killed. Seriously. He ended up dying), Peter took out his sword and tried to kill the threat. If we Christians were Peter, we probably would have pull out our concealed weapon and defended Jesus, killing as many threats around us as possible. Because this life is all about being safe and saving our lives, right?

Jesus would be like, “What in the world do you think you’re doing? If you live by killing threats, you’ll die in the same way. If you want to gain your life, you’re going to have to lose it. Hey hey hey, Peter, you realize I’m here? You’re safe. You don’t need to be afraid and react. Stop trying to save me. You need to let me go die. Oh, and just as a heads up, one day when you are most loving me and most safe in my will, you’re going to die by crucifixion.”

This totally blows my mind. The Gospel life is so full of paradoxes that it can only be believed by faith. It’s not natural. But in the kingdom, it’s totally normal.

Is our safety determined by our circumstances? Or is our safety from within, untouched, strong and unmovable?

Maybe we can be the ones who set the standard of love, who live in soul-safety, and who walk into unsafe places and welcome the unsafe ones, loving them into the kingdom.

Thank God I’m Not Like Josh Duggar

Posted on by Angela Madaha

Dear God, thank you that I am not like Josh Duggar.

You and I both know that their strict, conservatism was a huge front to the realities of his and his family’s life.

He is now exposed for what he really is: a sinner.

A sinner living like he’s something righteous.

Well, God thank you that I am not like this hypocritical, self-righteous sinner. Not only would I never commit an act like that, but I would never be so religious and fake. I am the most un-fake person I know and can make pure judgments of others’ sincerity.

I hope that by me standing up for what’s right and shaming him and this fake Christian culture that you would be proud of me, that I am encouraging all people everywhere to be real and transparent. Since the Gospel cuts through truth and lies, I am so thankful that I can minister the Gospel by heaping shame on him and his family, because shame is what leads anyone to change.

It’s what he deserves. I hate people like that, judgmental people that act like they’re better than everyone else. At least I don’t act like I’m perfect. And because I don’t pretend like I’m perfect, then I have a right to announce all the hypocrisy of those who do pretend, even if I don’t know them. I can tell; I know these situations. I’m a really good judge of intent and character.

So God, I thank you I am not like this sinner, Josh Duggar. Thank you for all of your grace to me. It makes my life so much better. I’m glad I can receive it, unlike other sinners. In your name, Amen.

*******

It’s such an easy trap to fall into, the trap of merciless shame-dumping: The Judgement Zone.

I know this Judgment Zone because it’s my gut reaction to situations like this one, when really bad things happen to the vulnerable ones by people who claim to be “good.” I hear these very words in my head and start boiling with anger.

But here’s what I’ve realized about this Judgment Zone: when we live in the Judgment Zone and rally around sin to expose it, no matter how big or how little, here’s what we’re really preaching:

“No one is ever allowed to mess up. If you want to be included or wanted, you have to be perfect. Or at least my definition of perfect.”

And we put more and more distance between ourselves and our relationships and our community.

We hold up the banner of Josh Duggar’s mess and shout, “He must be punished! And he must be extra shamed because he was faking! And it’s our duty to exploit it, to make sure that everything is clear and ends up being perfectly fair.”

Because he is the only one that’s ever messed up or pretended that he was something he wasn’t.

Because he is too far gone to be shown mercy and grace.

Because he’s tearing down the name of goodness and God in our culture.

Actually what’s tearing down the fame of God in our culture is a total lack of love. We should be known for what we are for, not for what we are against. We should be known for our encouraging lives, not for our exploiting voices.

I am just as appalled at evil and injustice as you are. I’ve seen it up front and personal. When my friend was beaten and abused by her boyfriend for months and she escaped to my house. When my friend was raped and the courts wouldn’t believe her and the perpetrator goes free. When I lost all my work when my previous company took unjust legal action against me.

JusticeIt’s not cool. It shouldn’t go undone.

I absolutely want justice.

But justice without love, without hope, and without purpose is no justice at all. 

We all applaud turn-around stories of people who were living destructive lives and then have a major “come-to-Jesus” encounter where they do a 180 and totally change for good.

We feel good when we hear stories like that.

But who will stand in the gap for them? 

Who will be the first to say, “I forgive you. I want the best for your life. I offer you a safe place to be imperfect and go through your change”?

Jesus is such a good example of this. He’s the one who sought out the dirtiest, most rotten ones of society and said, “Follow me. Let me serve you. I make all things new.”

So now we can also can look at the ones with the most exposed, dirtiest deeds and say, “Come be with me. Let me serve you. We’re going to go with Christ and he makes all things new.”

This is for the broken ones. Rich or poor. Popular or outcast. Perpetrator or exploited.

When we live less than this, when we become judgmental of the judgmental, we raise walls of separation.

And those observing from the sidelines who need help are cowered into silence because if anyone knew what was really going on in their lives, they know they would be shamed and bullied into the dust just like this guy was.

So they live in quiet conflict, their secret lives sealed shut beneath the surface.

But we can only go so long before the reality of our issues come out. And I believe that a culture of authenticity and grace-covering imperfection can help all of us heal of stewing internal struggles.

I want 14 year old boys who struggle with pornography, sex addiction and an unhealthy view of women to know that there is a place and a people where they can go and open up about their imperfections and find loving help.

I want 40 year old crack-addicted prostitutes to know that there are people who love them and see them as the valuable, cherished women that they are and are willing to walk with them into healing.

I want the cheating husband with 3 kids to know that he doesn’t have to live a fake life anymore, that there is a place where he can come in his brokenness to find forgiveness and restoration.

This is called radical grace. 

Because sometimes some things seem completely unforgivable. It would just be too radical.

But to the broken ones, to the ones that see their helpless state, this radical grace is freely offered.

And we are the agents and communicators of that grace in our relationships and communities.

And if that abuser, that pimp, that cheater isn’t broken yet? Well, it’s not our place to shame and break them.

We make boundaries in our lives, we pursue proper justice through our legal system, but we don’t light shame fires.

Shame never induces change.

But mercy does.

How do I know this?

Because I am the one who has received this kind of radical grace and unbelievable mercy.

And if I can’t give back what I have received, did I ever truly receive it in the first place?

Break The Rules

Posted on by Angela Madaha

Why is it we can’t say, “This is what I’m passionate about and this is what I believe in and this is why I do it?” 

Average

We go to jobs and churches and volunteer at organizations where we’re told what to do and believe in and have vision for. Then, of course, the moment we step out of the boundaries of the regulations, it’s “eh eh eh, don’t do that,” and the reprimanding ruler is slapped across our hand.

And then meetings progress and programs are created to solve the problem of “Why aren’t we effective? Why aren’t people doing excellent work? Why are our people hiding from us and not being transparent?”

Because when no one can break the rules, then forward motion, excellence and effectiveness are killed.

We tell people to be extraordinary then give them average limitations. 

Leaders, please stop doing that.

Dear employers, bosses, pastors, teachers, elders, coaches, and presidents, stop telling us to be great within the boundaries of your leadership perceptions. Quit controlling our dreams and passions for fear it will break your mold of perfection.

We can’t be great when you don’t trust us.

And then when we do try to be great and step outside of box, assuming you trust us because we believe you to be good leadership, you drop the hammer on our passions and crush us under the weight of “Who do you think you are? This is not all about you. Where did you come up with this? You are totally selfish.”

Oh, I forgot that all along this was never meant to be my passion. It had to fit inside your perception of permissible.

Let’s all just be clear and open right now, ok?

Leaders, when you tell us to be great, you have just given us permission to break the rules, because my ability of greatness is going to look different from yours, but it’s going to help you be greater in the long run as well.

So if you don’t want your people to be great, just be honest. Tell us that you just want us to do our jobs and be robots. It will help everyone all around. And there are some people that are ok with being robots. Find those and surround yourself with them.

But for those of us that want to change the world, you’d better be prepared to be uncomfortable. You can lead us, but you can’t manage us. We’re going to break the rules.

Because when you want breakthrough in the world, you have to break through rules and preset regulations.

To those who have found that seed of greatness within youself and want to live out awesome, realize that many leaders will not be ok with that. You’re going to face bullying, degradation, opposition, and hatred. You’ll have to walk away from those people and it’s going to hurt very much.

Because all you wanted to do was help. You just wanted to make a difference.

That’s the price of thinking, of believing in owning passion for yourself and not reciting it from some creedal mission statement.

I was drafting an email yesterday that I started off writing, “I’m on the Young Activist Council of an anti-trafficking organization and we are seeking to bring awareness of trafficking to Chicago.” And then I stopped, erased the whole sentence, and instead wrote, “I’m passionate about ending sex trafficking in Chicago and I was wondering if you’d like to help in bringing awareness of this problem to our city.”

It’s much more difficult to take ownership of passion. Because then you open yourself up to criticism.

Who do you think you are?

What credentials do you have?

Where’s your experience?

Who are your references?

What’s your education?

What’s your plan?

Why would you want to do this?

And sometimes all you can answer with is, “I believe in it. It’s my passion.”

Most people like rules instead.

Because passion is way too dangerous.

Exactly.

Let’s live dangerous.

Give people a reason to be afraid of you, then leave the religion behind, and walk into passion living.

There’s not many people walking that path of passion living. You’ll face a lot of fears and abuse and being vastly misunderstood. But it’s worth the freedom and joy that comes from actually living a life that means something, that has a point, that has purpose and intention in every action.

I’ve realized in my own life that the moments that I’ve had the most impact and purpose are the exact times when I’ve crossed the lines of rules and expectations at work, church and other organizations. And reality? I’ve faced opposition each and every time. But oh so much reward and fruit.

What rules do you need to break today that will allow you to live on purpose instead of robotically?

How Good Is Today!

Posted on by Angela Madaha

Today is good.

I am sitting here in a lovely, local coffee shop looking outside the window at gorgeous old houses listening to soothing classical and jazz music in the background, seeing the sights and sounds and people dropping in to get their morning coffee on their walk to work.

I have the freedom to sit here with warm clothes on, writing on a computer that was given to me, money in my bank account, work for me to depend on next week, good health, and an apartment to go home to with a roommate I like living with (who by the way just texted me that I need to go move my car before the street cleaners ticket it. What a gem, people). I’m in a city that reflects everything I enjoy about life and people and living. I am intrigued every day and my sense of adventure always has an outlet. Shoot, I even enjoy this cold and snow. It’s something different and reminds me of how I can adapt to different seasons with flare!Coffee shop

It’s a good day because I have heart dreams and desires that are shaping into reality, even if it isn’t exactly in my present. My heart for the broken ones and my community– I have clarity of going full-heartedly after that and what that looks like today (for instance, Thanksgiving party tonight at my place. Come if you want!). My work and business passion– I have a much clearer direction of what that looks like and I’m walking forward to it. I have work with businesses who believe in me and pay me because they believe in me. I have such a supportive loving family who laugh like I do and stick together. I have friends nearby who understand me and take a real interest in me. I have friends far away who still love me and remain faithful to me no matter where I’m at, where I go, or what I do.

But above all, I have someone vast and indescribable and powerful and wise who I get to call Father.

He is so great and awe-some, yet he is so aware of all the details in my life and cares about each tear, each laugh, each care, each hope. He has led me and stayed near me every step of my journey.

And he is the only one that has.

At times when everyone has left me or disappeared, when life itself rejected me and threw me to the ground, when I couldn’t even muster the will power to look up or even say his name, he never left me. Not for a moment. He is my only hope when all hope is gone, when darkness is all I can see, when I’m all alone with no one to pour my heart out to.

And this, my friends, is why I can sing and bless the Lord. Because my hope is totally outside of myself. It’s actually IN him. When I’m in that hope inside of him, then my whole being and actions in life actually have peace and not bitterness. I am purpose-driven, not tossed around by every emotion or unstable circumstance.

This is not a fake reality; this is who I really am, and that’s not about to change. Because when I’m with the One who never changes, I can be steady when changes and injustices and wounds and surprises and rejections and loss swirl around me. They tell me to move, to change, to react, to punish, to withhold.

But I can turn and look at those things in the face and say, “You have no control over me. Get out and stay out!” and then walk into my life, of which I’ve only been given one shot. And there’s no way I’m going to allow something else to control it and say what is or isn’t possible.

Because everything is possible. Which includes my attitude.  So that’s why I can say, “How good is today!”

Psalm 103: Bless the Lord my soul, and all that is within me bless his holy name! May I never forget the good things he does for me.

The Power of Saying “Yes” to the Greater Things

Posted on by Angela Madaha

Self control is having the opportunity to think on lesser things, yet choosing to think on greater things.

Self control is knowing I can think negatively about someone, yet choosing to think positively and hopefully.

Self control is knowing I have the freedom to think and act impurely, yet choosing to think and act purely.

Self control is not the power to say no, but knowledge of what is even more powerful and the choice to say yes to those things. Self control is the power to say “Yes” to greater things. And living with that kind of power is a strength no one can steal from you. Because you’re choosing your self to live in a certain way that thinks and acts beyond the short-term moment.

Lack of self control, or the choice to choose the lesser things, helps nobody, not even you. It teaches you to take the easy route and fulfill your immediate desire with no thought to others or your real identity or your future. Being uncontrolled or freely admitting that something else controls you is simply selfish. And selfishness will destroy you over time. It will destroy your generosity, compassion, love, peace, joy, faith and goodness. Self-centered living will destroy your self-freedom. You will be a slave to yourself, ironically. And then it will hijack your world around you. One day you will wake up and realize you have no true friendships, only ones you facade into your life because they facilitate you getting what you want.

And then I really will have sorrow for you. Because now you have to live with yourself everyday. And it’s not that I or anyone else is better than you; it just that many people who want to have controlled lives evaluate decisions one at a time and think, “Does this control me, or do I control it? Which is the greater thing to choose?”

You are tomorrow who you choose to be today. Though don’t be arrogant to judge those who have narcissist tendencies, who use everyone around them as tools in their game, or make life and all conversations and relationships about themselves. You or I could be there too, and very simply actually.

The difference is in the decision. Every decision is to say yes to one thing and no to something else. The thing is, though, you’ll never know what path you could’ve had if you had made different decisions.

You don’t want to be a self-absorbed, abusive person one day? Stop making uncontrolled, selfish decisions today. You were made to be so much more. Control what you eat, what you drink, what you wear, who your friends are, the words you speak, the words you don’t speak, the atmosphere you surround yourself with, and the deeds you do every day.

There are so many things that are out of your control to deal with as it is. You can’t control circumstances that are thrown at you, how others treat or mistreat you, or the general economy of life and culture. Maybe we should start controlling ourselves with those personal decisions and choose to live for the  greater things instead of the lesser things, the selfish things. It might not make a difference today, but it might create a legacy in 40 years instead of having a life wasted that has truly impacted nobody. It’s a harsh reality that you could one day be sitting on thrones of gold in fields of rubies and be totally and absolutely bankrupt.

Tell yourself what you will choose today. And please, love everyone who is in your present and your future enough to not be selfish, but to instead choose the greater things.