Cage-free

Today at the supermarket, I stopped by the eggs. They weren't on my list, but I counted how many I thought were in the carton at home.

While I surveyed the cage-free options – TWO out of two-dozen options - two women walked from the opposite direction. They split up; one going past for mozzarella, the other picking up a standard dozen eggs, the cheapest carton available.

She made her choice so nonchalantly, so automatically, hardly weighing the options. 

(I hemmed and hawed for more than a minute.) How does she choose? 

I observed one habit. She decided once, which color package to buy. And now buys it repeatedly, no evaluating necessary. Easy.

But there is another habit – avoidance. It is easier to look at those bland cartons and imagine happy hens. I want them to be happy and healthy. And so I imagine, looking away from the reality that one egg from one happy hen must cost more than 0.12 cents. Is that egg from a hen that has even stood on its own feet?

I do this – this looking away – all the time. Sometimes it's the only way I can cope in this broken world:

I turn my head, look straight past the homeless man that has nowhere else to go.

I tune out the number of Washington orphans waiting for homes.

I deafen my ears to the environment's screams.

I shield my heart from community that doesn't value my contribution.

I look away from the dog down the street, left tied up, alone.

I switch off the news and retreat to my quiet garden: digging, planting, weeding, anything for hours, trying to imagine there's no conflicts, no pain...

I can only handle so much – alone. But, over time my relationship with Jesus builds up my tolerance. He looked straight at the hurting, the broken, the rejected, the lost in this life and touched them, listened to them, gave them what He could.

Because of His mercy, now I can look at the abuse, the slavery of today and say – NO – I will respond. 

I will partner with others who help bring light into the darkness, freedom for the captives, good news to the poor.

I will keep praying for needs that remain for decades, for the impossible to come in the hearts of those consumed by anger and fear.

And I will spend my dollars in full view of the One who paid for me. I will focus on what He says is valuable.

So, I choose to see and acknowledge the hardness of Life and I Refuse to give up. But not by my own power. I wouldn't last one day alone.

Response

People today don't (maybe never did) like to receive pointed personal convictions. When we're told what to do or not to do, our natural (fallen) reaction is defiance. This holds true for the people in the church at large, for people in our church, and for me specifically.

For some of us (myself especially), it goes deeper than that. We like our consciences to be "pricked" - even need them to be in a "good sermon" - but follow up with nothing but intellectual assent and good intentions. Books like Radical, by David Platt are great reading for those like us - until we get to chapter 9, that is. It leaves us with the question, "What are we actually going to do about it?" If we've been intellectually assenting throughout the book, the appropriate response is unfortunately all too clear.

If we believe what we've read, if we believe what God reveals in his Word, we will respond - either by action or inaction. The cycle of revelation and response is all  throughout the scripture. It is the story of God working in the lives of his people. It is how God wants to work in us, in me. But in order for him to be able to work in us, to transform us into Christ-like-ness, we must respond. In action.

So what will our response be? What will my response be?