13329365_10209856672357543_2511492478186887590_oI have this thing going where I want to speak up for the voiceless and fight for the hopeless and make a difference. I want to end oppression and make privilege seen. And then while I’m sitting in Starbucks with a slight pain in my throat from getting a surgery that wasn’t necessary to my life thinking ‘maybe I could go to the doctor to get more medicine’ and ‘I’ll just go home and sit with my hardworking, loving parents to bring my mood up’ I start to wonder why I think I have the right to be the voice for the voiceless.

Is there a point where the privilege you didn’t ask for voids your attempt to speak up for the oppressed?

Will I ever truly understand the trials the people I’m fighting for go through?

Will anything ever change? Is anything worth it? Or should I just sit with my 4$ cup of coffee, watching my violent TV show and ignore the cries around me?

Or should I drop my worries, my struggles, my desires just for a few minutes to gaze at the only one who can truly make a difference? Should I stop trying so hard to be the voice to take a moment to listen to the words of the Savior? Should I let go of my precious terminology, ‘privilege’, ‘oppressed’, ‘feminism’, ‘racism’, ‘homophobia’, to say the only words that matter? “Jesus you are Lord of Lords, breaker of chains, King of Kings, Love, Justice, Mercy and Grace. Jesus you are my Savior”.

At what point do I stop playing the social justice warrior so that I can be a warrior in the King’s army? Is being a social justice warrior an important part of being a believer? Can’t I fight both wars at once? Aren’t they the same war?

Should I use this privilege that drops guilt on my soldiers to make a difference? To be a voice for the voiceless? To fight for a better world?

When does my voice cause more pain then good? When am I helping and when do I need to be silent?

What role do I play?

What role should I play?

How important is the role I play, really?

This is not my story. I am not the hero. I will not be the one to ride in on a white horse.

This is his story and he is just using me to do good and fight his fight.

The questions won’t end. And the answers may never come. But that never stops me from gazing at his face, hearing his words, praising his name, fighting the fight, and speaking up for the voiceless.


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