Freedom Challenge

I know I’ve organized a 5k, but I wonder what else I can do.

These girls need love.

I read an article about a girl named Danielle Douglas who was forced into trafficking in Boston. The article said that trafficked girls – prostitutes – are told that the pimp is the only person who will love them now. It is pounded like a nail into their minds.

Nobody loves you –

Bam.

Except me.

Bam.

You are worthless!

Bam.

The only thing you do for money is this,

Bam.

and do you think anyone could love you now?

Bam.

The only love you’ll get is from me.

Bam.

It’s as if each time they raise their hands to strike their girl, they’re holding a hammer. A hammer pounding lies. But even a crooked nail can get fiercely embedded in wood. And even pulling a nail out leaves a scar.

People need love to live. It’s a life-nectar straight from heaven – flowing thick and syrupy through all of scripture. Love is so prevalent in my life. My dad started my car this morning. My coworker grinned cheerily and exclaimed that she “gets to work with [me] Friday AND Saturday!” Love is why I hug Mom before I leave, and why I give Leah dancy-hugs and why I try to make Christa laugh, and why I pray that all my friends who leave will be abundantly, explosively happy in their far-away places even when I miss them.

And love is what these girls live without.

Even law enforcement – those we hope would protect these girls – doesn’t love them.

In a trafficking situation, there are three participants. A pimp controls the prostitutes, whose services are purchased by Johns. If the police happen upon the situation, the prostitute is arrested. WHY?! WHY would you arrest a helpless girl? Would you pull up a marijuana plant and chop it to pieces, and then apologize kindly to the grower/seller/purchaser?

NO!

Ooooh how I ache for this situation. They don’t just need our help: they need our love. I don’t know how this will look yet.

Yes, I’m organizing a 5k Freedom Run this year, and the funds will be used right here in Minnesota to erect a safe-house for girls brought out of trafficking. But how else can we love them?

I honestly don’t know the answer. I know part of it lies in awareness, and I know part of it lies in prayer, and so I have a challenge for you.

How much do you know about trafficking? I challenge you to find out more. Research trafficking in your state. Research the different kinds of trafficking. Research WHO is trafficked (be surprised and broken.) I challenge each reader to find out 5 facts about trafficking that you did not previously know.

I also challenge you to prayer. Take one new fact, or all of the facts you learned. Take a friend, or a group of friends. I want us to pray for 27 days, starting February 1^st, that God will use us to bring justice to our world, country and state. And city.

Finally, if you have an idea of how we can greater love God’s children trapped in slavery, please share it with me here on my blog, or my Facebook inbox.

Here’s a few resources to get you started:

Slavery stats: www.enditmovement.com

Where part of our donations are going this year: www.risinghopefoundation.org

Article about Danielle Douglas, and Superbowl trafficking article.

To find our 5K on Facebook, search "5K Freedom Run: Fighting darkness One Step at a Time.

Freedom Run: Fighting Darkness One Step at a Time.

Yet another day of school. I promised myself I'd study in five minutes. First, facebook. JUST five minutes.

M had posted something that had a big red X logo. I scanned it for anything interesting. "We're in to end it" the post said. End what? *Scroll* Ahh. Human trafficking. Good cause, I thought. Good cause indeed. *Scroll*

S had posted something that had a big red X logo. I did a double take. The same post! I'm  proud of you, S. I nodded silently to myself. Perhaps I should re-post this. It's a good cause. It'd be good to raise awareness about human trafficking.

I moved the mouse over to the "share" button.

NO.

What?

NO. This isn't what you were trained to do. This is not how your parents, your youth leader and your time at Summit Ministries trained you to think.

Oh, ok. What, then?

Check it out.

I shifted the mouse just in time and clicked on the link.

The website was mostly black and red, with the big X logo etched in flashy places. I scrolled through, taking it in. Statistics barreled at me. And estimated 27 million people are enslaved worldwide. Over 100,000 thousand people are enslaved in AMERICA alone. Two children are sold every minute. 

Every MINUTE? The bloody logo stared at me, daring me to believe these outrageous facts.

I can't just ignore this.

I looked at the top of the page and found the "Action" tab. There must be something I could do, some way I could support this movement besides re-posting it onto my social media network. A list of fundraiser ideas came up. Host a bake sale, have a car wash, do a dodge ball tournament, on and on. My hometown does dozens of these a year. They looked way to ordinary. HOST A MARATHON. I jumped. The words flashed at me. I laughed. I don't run! And I'm supposed to host a marathon? That's comical, really.

School tickled my brain and I closed the tab. Homework doesn't wait well.

But I couldn't get the idea out of my mind. I tried not to think about it as an obligation, but in the back of my brain I boiled down the marathon to a more workable portion: a 5k run. A day passed, then a few days, and a week. I couldn't forget about the horrible things I'd read about girls deceived into sex trafficking, and children who didn't recognize pimps until it was too late.

I presented the idea of a 5k to raise awareness about human trafficking - especially sex trafficking - to my college Bible study and my youth leader. They fanned the idea into a plan and volunteered to help see it carried out.

We are hosting a Freedom Run.

Together we have organized a 5k run/walk for June 22nd. Check in begins at 7 AM and the race begins at 8 AM. There is a kids run starting at 9 AM and a silent auction during the races. Strollers are welcome! No skateboards, bikes, wheely-shoes, etc.

Register early for the run to ensure a t-shirt! The deadline for early registration is June 8th. Registration info and the registration form can be found at www.stayclassy.org/1corinth926. Registration after the deadline costs $35. The kids run is only $5 but I still need a registration for each entrant.

There is even a place for people to volunteer NOT to run! We'll need some to point the way for the runners, some to keep track of timing to determine first place winners, some to manage check in, somebody to help with water tables, etc. There will be plenty of work for people who would love to help in a way that doesn't involve a lot of sweat.

If you have questions about donations, donating items for the silent auction, sponsoring our race, registration or volunteering, please contact me! My email is gianna.freedomrun@gmail.com.

Thank you so much for your support and prayers.

May God bless our humble event and use each dollar for precious people caught in trafficking and for his glory.

Amen.

Thanksgiving

It’s Thanksgiving. Not Easter. Yes, I’m grateful for over-stuffed turkeys and aromatic pies, time with my family, laughs shared with friends, and another blessed year. Yes, I’m rejoicing that I live a life of plenty, that God has blessed us with a bounteous abode, abundant land, and canine adorers. My stereotypical little life is a thing I have great thanks for. But that which my heart sings the loudest for, that for which I can find no words but I must express, is my gratitude for the spiritual blessing that begat all spiritual blessings. I thank God for Christ.

I praise God for his peace in my confusion, his joy when I’m discouraged, and his love when I want to be angry; I praise God for his death for my life.

Lately I have been studying the book of Esther. I’ve read it before, and it’s a good story. Esther becomes queen in time to save her people from annihilation. But the question has been hounding me: why is this story in the Bible?  And in the few nights I prayed for revelation and truly studied, the Holy Spirit whispered. I could suddenly see the fantastic way this story pictures in a human romance God’s heart and mind.

Esther was not perfect, as a lamb must be. But she was submissive to her cousin-turned-father, and showed honor to the husband she was not allowed to choose. She invited Haman to feast with her, and endured the realness of evil without Mordecai’s protective presence. Xerxes in turn renounced his closest counselor and trusted friend for the love of his endangered bride. The Jews were empowered and overcame their assailants on that fateful day ever after entitled Purim, a day of salvation.

The parallels astounded me. Each element seemed to point to Christ’s perfect offering, with a human spin. Esther released her life without dying. Xerxes granted life to the nation he first sold into destruction, all with eyes for one woman and ears for whomever spoke.

The record of this small segment in time is a breath-taking panorama of heavenly design. It emphasized God’s zealous protection of his chosen in the past. Even Zeresh realized that “’If Mordecai, before whom you have begun to fall, is of the Jewish people, you will not overcome him but will surely fall before him.’” Medes and Persians understood God’s reputation. Yet this epic, like a glass of water, also magnified Christ’s coming story. Ever so clearly, this type of Christ fit together piece by piece and pictured salvation.

Esther was afraid to offer herself, and prayed for three days. Christ wept and endured agony at the thought of his suffering. Xerxes killed his advisor rather than lose his wife. God turned away from Christ to win us.

It is for all this I feel gratitude this Thanksgiving. “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing…even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him…to the praise of his glorious grace with which he has blessed us in the Beloved.” Ephesians 1:3,4 and 6.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow.

Praise him all creatures here below.

Praise him above ye heavenly hosts.

Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost.

 

Amen.

This is a Secret.

So don't tell my dad please.

Aren't I a good child?

My dad loves the song Music Box Dancer. At first, it threw me for a loop. I heard him playing it on the computer one night, and my train of thought was, Dad? What up? You runnin a fever? You like hunting, dogs, orange and camouflage, you like farting for crying out loud!!! What are you doing? He was listening to Music Box Dancer.


And enjoying himself. Something I hadn't known was possible. I mean, my dad doesn't like classical, even contemporary piano music. He comes to every one of my recitals, but that's 'cause he loves me, not the music. I showed him my Rachmaninoff piece...he was impressed but he doesn't like it, really.

Anyway, after that night years ago, I pulled out my copy of the music and learned it. Occasionally if I ended up practicing piano when Dad came home, I'd play through it without saying anything. He'd come over and sit by me and just listen. I still found it comical, though! I mean, Really Dad?

So I asked him.

"Well," he trailed off. I was confused. It was just a song...right? It felt like something serious - talking about it with him. "You know how my dad was," he said slowly. "I guess this song was always something peaceful that I could listen to. I always liked hearing it." He looked back up at me with something vulnerable in his eyes that I'd never seen before. "Oh." I had nothing to say.

After that, I started playing the song more, and I'd purposely practice when I knew when Dad was coming home. It gave both of us something special to look forward to, I think. He appreciated the music and every time I played, he'd thank me for learning it.

After last year, I kind of forgot to do that for him. A few weeks ago, I got tired of playing all the pieces I'm working on for my Piano recital and again, I pulled out Music Box Dancer. And I had a really random idea. I remembered how much Dad had liked the song before, so why not add it to my recital? It was something beautiful I could do for my dad. Something that would make him appreciate the recital, and would let him know that I loved when he came, and that I love him.

So I texted my piano teacher and added the piece to my repertoire.

*Tear*

I love you Daddy.