The Underground Railroad

The Island of Misfit Toys Gathers Again: Faith, Justice & Reason at the Fall 2011 MAUS Residency

 Every semester I am required to attend a 7-10 day residency for my Urban Studies program (affectionately known as the MAUS program) through Eastern University in Philadelphia. My concentration focus is Community Development, but like most students, I integrate youth development and the arts as well in order to best develop skills that will serve my community around me. It's hardcore. I won't lie. But a couple years ago I was searching (what seemed like uselessly) for 'the perfect program' that would help me build character and skills to live my part of ending the slave trade. Then along came the MAUS program at Eastern: "Faith.Reason.Justice." -- need I say more?

The Island of Misfit Toys is a playful moniker a group of us christened ourselves as -- the ones who come from far outside of Philadelphia. We stay for that 1 short week, study intensely, ask serious questions, get a grasp on thesis development, but most importantly, we take the chance of revealing the deepest parts of ourselves and our ministries that are broken, that are lost, or that are just plain tired out. For us, this residency is our retreat... our haven... our balm in Gilead. I'd say that sounds somewhat melodramatic, but after living through 3 such residencies thus far, I can assure you melodrama has nothing to do with it (unless you're springing a cookie off of your forehead, down your face, and successfully into your mouth). From the West Coast, mid-States, New York, and even Canada, we all congregate in a motely crew that seems would have been entirely unlikely to have gotten together on our own if we had been living side by side. Perhaps I'm wrong... maybe. But this vast, sprawling geographic distance between us weighs on our hearts and minds, and we know all too well that we have but 1 week together. Time becomes all the more precious. We come as misfits in our hometowns, crazy prophets of our times that people have blown off, as worn out ministers of the faith wondering "where's the love gone?", and pieces and parts of us simply don't seem to match the rest of us. Yet this is what makes us precious to one another and, as we discover through each other's stories, precious to God.

I was able to meet and interview Shane Claiborne this semester -- a dream of mine for some time now. If I am to create intentional community for exploited youth exiting the slave trade (say THAT 10 times fast!), I felt I needed to start asking questions of those who live in IC. I'll be honest: I didn't get the answers I thought I was looking for. But if I had gotten some "1,2,3,4" answers, I think I would have come away far more disappointed in the formula than with the open-ended "hanging" respones I did get. Hmmm... still pondering that one. Stay tuned.

In this picture with Shane are three of the wisest people I've had the honour of meeting thus far in my life -- Dr. Drick Boyd, Dr. Kimberlee Johnson, and Dr. J. Nathan Corbitt (from left to right). I say "wise" because while they teach as academics, they also live their faith... their justice... their reason. They are children of God first, and teachers second. They are not perfect (gasp!), but that makes their credibility as fellow sojourners all the more tangible. Not only do they want to see us succeed, but they take the time to get to know us as people and not only students or as numbers in a classroom. The fact that I haven't been booted out yet speaks to their patience (being ignorantly audacious with Dr.Campolo the 1rst semester, and then throwing snowballs in the 2nd... wow... feeling the need to straighten up and fly right). The program itself is not perfect either, I might point out. It doesn't claim to be, but sometimes I'll admit that I expect it to be. Prick the expectation, and my ego deflates back to where my perspective is a little more realistic.


Some of us are taking Applied Research and Evaluation (*shudder*... took that beast last fall!), and others are working on their thesis projects. Personally, I am taking Race & Ethnic Relations course that is putting me through the wringer. If you would rather learn your rhyme and reason of social justice nice and neatly, this program is not for you. Don't bother. If you want to dig to the core of life as it was and is and could be, live as a radical (from the Latin radix: to get to the heart of things), and be the change... take a chance. It will hurt. The questions asked of you will demand you take an honest and hard look inside of yourself to the point where you are bare, exposed, naked and raw. Raw is key here... to be naked and whole might speak to being able to endure the batterings of the truth. To allow yourself to become raw with the truth, the narratives of others, and of Christ means to be naked and pounded -- entering into a mystifying transformation that I can't explain here. Black and white... red and white... yellow and white... anyone sensing a theme here? It's by far been the most spiritually and emotionally challenging course thus far in the program. Yet I wouldn't trade it for anything. Even in the bruising, there is love... fellow Misfit Toys are going through the same process, and we traverse the journey together from wherever we are.

Some of us have lived through poverty and are passionate about seeing homelessness end... others wish to see afterschool programs better engage local communities knowing it takes a village to raise a child... others want to see churches better engage one another as the Bride of Christ, and not destroyers of one another... and still others, like me, seek to engage the world as abolitionists and refuse to see any person or group sold for price anymore. This is my family -- misfits, freaks, crazies, and wanderers. If you come to the program and sense you don't belong, you, my friend, might just be exactly where you're supposed to be.

There & Back Again -- A Student's Tale by Bilbo... oh that's just going too far

 
 
Yes I'm a proud geek, but I am no Bilbo Baggins. For one, I have't got the big hairy feet. Anyway... many people have asked me: "What are the biggest lessons you've learned since returning from Olongapo?"

Tall question... and thinking on it through jet lag is nearly impossible. Ugh... ears, POP already!

But now that my system is slowly returning to normal, I've been able to meditate on God's revelations, think about what happened, and how the Spirit has counseled and transformed me. And I've also given great thought to the things I saw, were shared with me, and the fluid conclusions I've drawn thus far...

Intentional community works.

I don't say this in terms of using IC as a systematic method of programming -- not by any stretch. Any type of IC requires deliberation, patience, time, caring, nurturing, humility, and love. These traits are not inherently programmatic. In fact, North America's repeated insistence in trying to make them so has often seen disaster in its wake. I say that IC works because I bore witness -- and share in -- to the community where young women were brought out of the sex trade, their lives were transformed, and God was glorified. Family is created, Jesus is central, and the practical outworkings of the Gospel are evident in daily life -- from morning worship to paper making to reaching out into the community. In fact, the base leader in YWAM Olongapo was once a girl herself in prostitution, and is now the fruit of community living centered on Christ.

That's where I'm at. I know there are moments in the bars/clubs I want to share about, and other thoughts, but I want you all to know that intentional, deliberate family nurturing and community tending works to break the chains of slavery. I went to the Philippines to see for myself if this was so.

And it is.

God, may it be so in Canada.

Casting Crowns in a Strip Club

In a country that declares itself to be predominantly Roman Catholic, with a culture of Islam in the south, and a smattering of Pentecostal-related denominations (known as "born again" faiths), the Philippines is a very religous, very devout place. You cannot go anywhere without seeing a "John 3:16" on a license plate, or a "Jesus Cares for You" on a sticker somewhere. Everyone believes in God, and everyone knows about Jesus. Even the hotel I first sacked out at after my 4:30am arrival in Manila had a Bible waiting for me, a slip of paper for prayer requests that hotel staff could pray for, and Stephen Curtis Chapman playing in the cafeteria.

Should it have surprised me to hear Christian music playing in one of the bars we were in?

I guess not. But it seemed so... out of place.

When I recognized Casting Crowns' "I am a flower quickly fading... here today and gone tomorrow... a wave tossed in the ocean... a vapor in the wind... Still You hear me when I'm calling... You catch me when I'm falling... and You told me who I am... I am Yours..." -- I was mystified. It was as if the very establishment was trying to redeem itself in the eyes of God.

If we play this song, then the things that happen here won't be so bad.

It's not unheard of. Anyone who's into Bluetree knows precisely where the beloved "God if This City" originated (a brothel called "Climax" in Bangkok, Thailand). Spirit enters where He will, and will He does. Perhaps the owners or the girls or someone thought that by playing Christian music, it would somehow make it all 'better'. Yet we know music can't save people -- not by itself anyway.

But God can plant seeds.

And water.

And harvest.

I wonder if Casting Crowns knows its worship music is being blared in clubs like "Lips" or "The Office" or "Alley Cats" or "The Wet Spot"?

I wonder if it's not the better place for it to be shared?

 

 

Demand v. Desire -- Continuing the Dialogue

Stop the Demand!, the post I wrote a couple days ago generated some incredible discussion about men's perspectives on how to stop the exploitation of human beings, especially surrounding the sex trade. I want to continue the discussion because we've barely scratched the surface. We have some good feedback to start with, but still the dialogue surrounding demand lags behind the dialogue around victims and support networking. When it comes to the hydra of slavery, all dialogues must be fairly squared out into the open for the hydra to come tumbling down, no?

One commentor (Jason) mentioned that:

"The demand for sex is ubiquitous to all humans who are not celibate. The problem, therefore, is not the demand for sex per se. Sex occurs in myriad contexts that are not harmful or exploitative. It follows, then, that harm and exploitation are not caused by demand for sex.

When people who demand sex exploit or abuse others in order to obtain sex, this must be abhorred and condemned as any harmful treatment of people should. But blaming harm of people on the demand for sex or treating harmful behavior differently when sex is involved confuses the issue.

Harmful behavior must be opposed everywhere and under all circumstances, but the demand and desire for sex is not inherently harmful. Your struggle, therefore, should be against exploitation and abuse rather than against sex or the demand for sex."

What say you, men and women? (and Jason too!) Just to clarify, this is most certainly not a personal attack against the commentor. His thoughts simply intrigued me to think and question further which is a good thing. They are intelligent and respectfully written comments that I would like to explore further.

I agree with Jason that harmful exploitation must be stood against everywhere. However, do we as a culture confuse the 'demand' for sex with 'desire'? To me, the very word demand denotes some form of inequality, exploitation or some form of harmful behviour. If someone is demanding sexual services (or payment in receipt thereof), this is exploitation. Desire, however, occurs in many contexts that does not include a demanding aspect. It's healthier perspective suggests a humanity that is not present in demand.

Now... personally, my belief is that sexual desire is meant for one context -- a monogamous relationship under God for life. Call me stodgy, but this is what I believe and I stand by it. To have desire in multiple contexts, to me, suggests lust rather than desire. Lust is one of those hydra heads that can suddenly turn vicious into demand.

While sex is needed to procreate our species, the fact of the matter is: no one has ever died because they never have had sex. Suppressing sexual natures without the expressed calling of God (note that I insist on the "calling of GOD", and not the calling of any church institution) turns ugly, and we've all seen the disasters and violence that have come from that. Yet choosing to refrain from sexual behaviour, whether for religious reasons, self-control reasons (prior sexual addictions or sexual violence), or health reasons are not to be "poo-pooed". In fact, there ought to be support and noble admiration.

What say you, men and women? Have we confused demand and desire? And where either is present, is celibacy a viable choice to reduce the explotation of men, women and children?

Plastic Bottle Boy - Slavery or Culture?

As we handed out food to the homeless and marginalized in one of Olongapo's city parks, I came across a young boy of no more than 10 of 11. He was frantically scrambling through a massive green garbage bin and pulling out the plastic bottles. I haven't seen recycling plants around here, althought people claim they are present. The child was furious in his quest, not stopping for anything and ripping past any and all sorts of filth.

We came up beside him and gently asked if he was hungry.

He didn't hear us... or pretended not to hear us.

We asked again.

This time, he slowed, turned his head and looked at our bags of bread, juices, and lollies. He licked his lips, but then ripped his gaze from the food towards a point behind us. I turned my head and there stood 3 beefy looking guys sneering at the child. I turned back to the boy and the look of fear on his face was astonishing. He jumped back into the bin, and began once again to stuff plastic bottles into his huge sack.

I looked once more behind me at the men standing there and they simply smiled sweetly and shrugged. Family sending out the child to beg? Gangs? What kind of precious cargo are plastic bottles anyway? Whatever the relationship this boy had to these men, it was one of obvious terror and my spirit was deeply troubled. The boy was nimble and quick at his task, but poorly clothed and by the brief look in his eyes, very hungry.

What to do?

When someone's life is in danger because of our good works, when is the time to step back, and when is the time to step up? Are the two mutually exclusive? Whatever the case, we backed off. If the child was living under that much terror from these 3 men simply at the offer of food (and thereby a break from his work), how much punishment would he receive had he accepted our innocent offer?

As we wandered around the park, I spied the boy a few more times diving through other dumpsters. The same gaggle of guys keeping a close watch over him were never far away. Maybe there was a promise of food or cash at the end of the day for the boy should he collect as certain quota of plastic... I cannot say for sure.

Whatever the drive, it felt like I had stepped between the power of the desparate and the nightmare of the young. It was not a place forgiving to Light.

There Are A Million Ways To Jesus

As I enter into my final week here in Olongapo City, I am pondering the many, many ways people come to Christ. It has awed me, encouraged me, and humbled me. Sometimes I think my personal theology and knowledge of the Bible says to the other: "You can't have come to Christ THAT way. It's not Scriptural."

Damnable pride.

John 14:6 is clear when Jesus says: "I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through Me."

So let me explain: I do believe that Jesus the Christ, Yeshua of Nazareth, this Jew of old, is the One and Only way to a saving relationship with God the Father -- redeemed and reconciled and beloved. However, Jesus being the infinite God that He is as well as man, I also believe He has created innumberable ways for humanity to come to Him first.

Take for example my story: born and raised in a Christian home, but quite literally scared into salvation at Bible camp where the counselors and teachers spoke of nothing but repentance from sin, hell, Judgment Day, and the Great White Throne all week. They put up overheads of what the devil looked like, what the flames of hell looked like, and told us how hot hell was. I never once raced to the front at any of the altar calls. I was too frightened. All I remember was each night lying in my bunk was begging a 'loving' God to not send me to hell. Please, Jesus, no! Don't ever let me go! It was a week where I firmly believe spirits of fear, deception and bondage began. For all you camp counselors out there, a week of this type of evangelism for anyone, let alone 8-10 year olds, is something I highly recommend you stay away from.

I don't agree with "The Sinner's Prayer" -- poof! You're saved! That's it! Fire insurance... easy faith sometimes it seems. Yet who am I to question God and how he saves? Dare I forget the thief on the cross?

I am unsure of the upsurge in a return to joyless legalism where repentance from sin and the destruction of pride are so over-emphasized that people run away in fear. Not just fear of God, but total fear of being unloved. Yet perhaps there are those prideful people who need to understand a bit more the situation they really are in.This kind of "splitting" the Gospel to force people to see only but a few aspects of what the Gospel really is or who God really is sticks my gut like rot, but I need to be the one to stand back and try to understand.

Dreams...

Visions...

Divine encounters...

Miracles...

Tongues...

Unbelievers speaking prophetic words (hey... remember Balaam's Ass)

Unusual events

Some would say "Phfffft" to these things as they "don't happen anymore", or "remove responsibility from th Christian who ought to be evangelizing".

No they don't.

Limit God, we say?

Who are we to dare suggest such things?

I've met people who have had visions of Jesus while on meth highs and their lives have been turned around; others were in the middle of trying to commit suicide and suddenly, there He was; still others have been in the middle of practicing other religions or spiritualities and events, dreams, prophetic words suddenly intervene and all point to Jesus -- the Jesus who points to Yaweh. The Jesus who points to Himself.

So yeah... there is One Way to God.

But before sneering at another's testimony, take a good long think at the lengths to which God went for us to have a relationship with Him. It's His world after all.

Think...

... maybe my view of how people should come to Christ is what's stopping bursting the kingdom wide open.

White is Bright... and Right

I think one of the biggest surprises that knocked me flat when I arrived here the Philippines was the never ending drugstore shelves of whitening products. That's right: bleaching, whitening, melt-you-dark-away creams, powders, antiperspirants, sunscreens, sprays and solutions (why anyone needs to make their pits white, I can't fathom). Yet the mentality here is that fair, white skin is better than brown skin.

Wha--???

Many of the locals here tell me of their almost obsessive craze to lighten their skin tone to be more like white people. Inside, my heart broke and my insides kind of turned to a depressed gloop. For real? You look at me and see how my skin tone is better than yours? Why is brown bad? Who told you that? What kind of marketing/advertising/historical propaganda has convinced you that whiteness is somehow superior to brown-ness?

It's made me so sad. Even here, the scars of colonial power and Western material gain have gashed the mentalite of a beautiful, respectful, ancient and wonderfully brown people. Even when I say that I don't want my friends here to desire to be white at such extremes, they just smile back and say: "You white folks try so hard to be brown with all your tanning lotions and tanning beds... what's the difference?"

Sigh...

Are none of us happy with the tint of the Creator in our skins?

Marguerite & The Angel

She's a card reader.

I can tell immediately... like the Spirit simply stating the fact in my mind. I know it instantly beyond a shadow of a doubt. I tell my teammates she was a medium/card reader, but we walk on.

She's an old, rather large Filipino woman with long stringy hair, mostly toothless, and dressed in a dirty t-shirt and ball cap. She sits at a small park table with a deck of playing cards out before her. Not tarot cards or ouija cards, but just everday playing cards she might have been using to play "Go Fish" with. Sitting alone with the way the cards were spread out, she might have been playng Solitaire.

Nope.

As our team of 3 begins handing out bread and juice to the homeless in Olongapo's central basketball park/amphitheater, we walk passed her and  my head turns to her right away. She looks up at me and smiles a great toothless grin, and I wave back.

"Go to her." is the command.

I brush it off momentarily to discern if this was really God, or if it was just me and my own inklings. Not that it would have mattered. An old lady on her own in the park can always use someone to talk to. However I have a team to be a part of as well, and there are children massing around us once bread was produced.

We circle the amphitheater handing out food and drink, stopping here and there to chat with the locals who could speak English, and giving "lollies" to delighted children (and old men!). Once again, we pass the woman who yet again meets my gaze, smiles and we wave to each other.

"Go to her." again was the voice. No doubt about it. God has a plan.

Handing most of what's left of our bread, juice and lollies, we finally have some space to ourselves. The old woman is just over there in the corner of the park, sitting under a sprawling tree on a bench, putting her cards away. My teammate asks: "Do you want to go pray for her?"

"Yup," I say. "I need to"

"Do you want us to come with you?" he asks.

"YUP!" I reply. For I need them to.

Her name is Marguerite and she confirms in the first 15 seconds of our conversation that she is indeed a card reader and medium. For a price, she tells inquiring people whether or not their spouses are cheating on them. If she's correct, they pay her with cash or food or prepaid cell phones. If she's wrong, she gets nothing. She's been practicing her 'job' for 4 years, but believes she's had the power for much longer.

If the cheating spouses reconciles with his/her family, Marguerite blesses the family with the power of one her "Company". If the cheating spouse refuses to reconcile, she curses them with the power of the darker presence -- a dwarf male to her mind -- who pounds the cheater on the knee and that person lives in pain for the rest of his/her life, or until he/she sees the error of his/her ways.

"The Company"

A group of 4 spirits consisting of the aforementioned male dwarf, and 3 female spirits (a fairytale princess, a mother figure, and an old woman). This doesn't surprise me. Often in occultic practices around the world, there are images of the 3 women: maiden, mother and crone -- the 3 stages of life. It's a powerful omen in the pagan world, and often a dangerous one.

As soon as Marguerite says she obeys "The Company", I instantly thought of "Legion", "... for they were many". It is as if Legion had come back under the name of The Company. Of course that's only my speculation, but the truth of the matter is this woman has literally a company of spirits around her.

She claims to have been given this Company by Jesus Christ after being dead for 48 hours. She declares that Jesus is her Lord and she obeys Him in all things. Yet it is the Company that dictates her actions. The Company has deceived this woman into believing they are from the Lord. Not so. Yet she is not ready to listen to that.

She is open about her life, and when I ask her what happened to her when a man cheated on her (I knew this was so after her explanation of her work as a family reconciler), she admits that a man from Hawaii fathered her only child and left them in abject poverty. But she's not angry with the Lord! Oh no! She can never be angry with him!

That's not where the angry is directed, I sense. She is still bitterly hateful towards cheating spouses, men especially, and she feels powerful in cursing those who "f---" around. According to Marguerite, they deserve to be in pain for the rest of their lives.

We talk some more and she is pleased that we consider her a friend. She blesses us with the power of the Company. I do not sense any spiritual attempt to invade the space of any of the 3 of us, but we are  cautious. We know who is present, but we also know Who is present with us. The Company seems awfully quiet while we're there.

Yet for me...

I am called out.

"Show us!" come the whispers. "Call us out! Defeat us once and for all!"

My history with the occult and demonic oppression, and my present life of this type of spiritual sensitivity is aggravated. I long for nothing more than to see Marguerite released from the bondage of The Company! Yet it is not God's voice admonishing me to call out the demons. They are the ones challenging me to take them on. The human part of me aches to do just that -- go on a face-to-face showdown, and annihilate them!

The Spirit holds me back.

We speak kindly to Marguerite. We sense loneliness, hunger, sadness, and oppression in her. A violent confrontation will hurt her, rather than save her. She asks that we pray for her and we do. She asks to hold hands with us and we do. She asks if we will visit her again, and I intend to. After we part ways, the 3 of us step to the side, away from the rest of the larger team, and we pray for God's protection over us and Marguerite. She did bless us with the power of the Company after all. And while no demon on any plane is at liberty to invade us as children of the Light, there are still openings for oppression and curses.

As we walk back to the larger group, we meet Angel. Last year, the YWAM outreach cast out demons from this woman and she was saved... apparently. As soon as I touch her, I am given the image of the woman cleaning house that Jesus spoke of: she get rids of 1 demon, but without the filling of a Holy Presence, 7 larger and darker demons come back to take its place.

Such is what I sense with Angel. She follows us as we leave the park. She is on the verge of tears the entire time. She agrees for us to pray for her but refuses to begin until each and every one of us is touching her hand. She is afraid of going to church or getting in touch with a spiritual family. She will not leave us until she's gripped us all in tight hugs.

Schizophrenia, you ask?

Possibly... in both cases. In the end, it doesn't matter as the end is the same, whether the mind is sound or not.

In Canada, we would classify both Marguertie and Angel as schizophrenic and perhaps pump them full of drugs. While drugs can help where there are physiological issues, have we wiped the entire slate clean of demons and called it all "mental illness"?

Just how many of our people are possessed or oppressed, sitting alone, in families, on hospital wards, or on the streets living under the spiritual grip of fear and shame, while receiving a useless treatment?

I wonder...

I truly do.

 

Filipino Fear Factor

Okayyyy.... so last Friday evening was "Family Night" here at the Olongapo Base, and the locals prepared several bowls of Filipino 'delicacies' for the foreigners to chow down on in a fun filled event of Filipino Fear Factor. Like springing off cliffs into cool rivers with tribal children, this heinous event brought much laughter, cheers and a release from the darkness that often tries to subdue us.

All the foods were separated into bowls and we were divided into Team 1 and Team 2. Each team had the "Bonus Bowl" (as I called it) where a chocolate cupcake was waiting, but the others held batang (hardboiled eggs with half-formed chicken fetuses inside), Isaw (roasted chicken intestines), or betamax (bbq congealed chicken blood). Of course, none of us knew in advance what would be served. When our turns came up, we chose a bowl and whatever was within we had to down before the other team did.

All I can say is: thank you, God, I didn't chose the egg!!!! I ended up with the betamax (chicken blood) which tasted like spicy bbq liver jerky. I probably wouldn't eat it again, but it wasn't altogether awful. LOL!!!

Just seeing us all together -- staff, volunteers, teams, disciples -- and knowing the combined power of our stories, our pain, our redmeptions, brought such a smile to my face. Even in the face of darkness, in the face of pain or grief, or coming to terms with the past, we could lay it down for an evening and all laugh at the crazy white folks trying to swallow chicken fetus!!!

The rest of the night was filled with more games of laughter and chaos. It was wonderful. We had a lot of fun. The kids commandered my camera, so they were plenty busy snapping shots of our frivolity. I'll try to post some later.

For some time now, I have been struggling with the message of the Gospel... no. Let me re-phrase: with the interpretation of SOME people's version of the Gospel. It has become a watered-down version of the fullness it was meant to be and a bitter version at that. It's all about salvation and choosing eternal life so you don't fry in hell. Get saved and you get the blessings/rewards.

That's it?

That's all there is to it?

Blech.

No wonder people around the world are seeking something more... because there IS more!!! Life is NOW!!! Not at death! There is a fullness in learning wisdom, reconciliation, character, faith, hope and love; there is generosity (remember the rich young ruler); there is kingdom living HERE and NOW... not just some reward for making the "one good choice" and praying that sinner's prayer. If people are balking against that, its because they know there's more. And we're keeping it from there as well as from ourselves.

If anything, I'm learning here in the Philippines to see Christ and His Gospel in His places, faces and times. His Words is true, but it's a big word. It's a word that let's us laugh together and bond... over chicken blood and cupcakes. His presence was fully there, and we were fully with Him.

"We Are Not Pimps of Our Own People!"

So spoke the current leader of YWAM Olongapo/Tamar Foundation here in Olongapo City/Subic Bay, the Philippines. Virgie was speaking in reference to my question about mail-order brides. Do the Filipino people accept Canadian men coming and buying brides for a price? Is it cultural/traditional? Is it normal?

Realizing that there are many other international cultural traditions around the world, I will speak candidly about Virgie's response. Mail-order brides are NOT traditional, nor are they cultural. They are an attempt to escape poverty, to gain a new life, or to flee dire circumstances. These are all true and legitimate needs that must be addressed... but not through bride selling.

Many men, oftening beginning as johns in Filipino brothels, feel they are doing these women a 'favour' by marrying them and caring for them. It assuages their own guilt about demading sexual favours where they had not right to demand from. This is not God's definition of marriage. Virgie was clear: "We are no better than pimps when we approve of our beautiful Filipino girls being taken by foreign men for a price. We are NOT pimps... we are not Mama Sans".

Hearing the conviction in her voice affirmed my own thoughts. Yes... some women escape poverty by selling themselves as brides. But instead of just selling sex, they sell the entire relationship of marriage where God has no place. It is prostitution on a whole different level.

Can their be healing? Can their be forgiveness?

Yes. Of course!

Can God reconcile a couple where the woman was a mail order bride (by choice or not) and a man who was so desparate (for whatever reason) acting as an international john?

Yes.

He can.

Just as He forgives and calls individuals, He saves and restores relationships.

However, the better way to deal with the matter is to firmly stand against mail order brides. Just as sex isn't for sale, marriage is not for sale in our Canadian culture. Yes... many johns use the Bible to back up their right to pay for whomever they choose to marry. Dowrys are common still in many cultures. And it's not like Canada is the shining example of healthy marriage relationships at the best of times.

I would say this: dowries occured in a time/place where God tolerated them as a custom of the people. Since it is now neither custom nor tradition in neither Canada or the Philippines, we must seek to end the existence of mail order brides. We must address in love the deeper needs (poverty, etc), and not sell off women who, made in the Divine Image of the Living God, have so much to offer to their own people.