Dutiful

In high school I would lay in my bed in the dark, air conditioning blowing on my face (few things are such a signal of privilege to me as air conditioning), and wonder to myself why I was here: why I was born in the U.S., born to good parents, born into safety and comfort and opportunity. I was fixated on teenaged orphans in the Ukraine, and on teenaged refugees from Syria. 

How was it fair that God had given me such goodness and such goodness was withheld from others?

I felt strongly the call of Luke 12:48. As she saw me flounder with my direction in life, my mom would quote its charge to me often, along with Proverbs 29:18. 

When I went to Kazakhstan, I felt so much relief and cognitive harmony, that I was purposing my life towards giving back and doing something for the Kingdom with my privilege. But then I failed. I was terrible at it. Your setting is not irrelevant to your work or commission, but it is not everything. You do still have to, you know, work. 

During law school I felt of two minds about this. Teaching ESL was still meaningful. I got better at building relationships with my students now that I was back on my home turf. Or maybe my students did all the heavy lifting. But my future was not ESL. I was mediocre at it. It was not my goal. I studied law and eventually had to shift, leaving the ESL world behind and putting my hand to the transactional grindstone. 

Still, I found favor. Despite my bumbling and lack of inherent talent, the patient training and mentorship of other attorneys brought me into the good graces of those who could help me get where I wanted to go. I kept struggling non-custodial parents out of jail. But it was not enough for me. I got to criminal law--I couldn't keep these guys out of jail, but at least I was trying. 

I sat in arraignments, or in presentments, in front of judges who did not care what I said, if they did not outright shut down whatever I said, and I looked into the downcast or pleading eyes of defendants and thought, "They deserve so much better than me." I scrawled on my notepad, what am doing with my life? Why am I even here? Aren't I doing more harm than good? I felt a weight lifted off my shoulders as I packed up four DUI trial cases--all sure-losers who insisted on going to trial--and passed them off to a colleague. 

Now, as I struggle to provide any comfort to noncitizens caught up in a system that is fundamentally unfair, I ask myself, why am I doing this? Isn't this a waste of time? Am I cut out for this? On the one hand, expectations are lower in immigration court, and I thrive under low expectations. But on the other hand, the stakes are higher, and I find myself splintering under the pressure. Maybe it was time to give up and find a legal job doing doc review or contract drafting or something where I did not have to carry other peoples' suffering. 

I felt the air conditioning in my car wash over me one day on my way home from work and the Spirit brought Luke 12:48 back to my heart. 

The goal of life is not to avoid suffering. Not that suffering should be chased or embraced or called "good", but suffering is just a bi-product. It is pervasive. It will come to all of us, one day, in one form or another. And if I don't even try to stand with those who are suffering, can I even call myself a servant of Jesus? Is not a heart that is soft to the suffering of others the one thing that separates the sheep from the goats? 

What this means for me is, I cannot grow weary of doing good. I have been blessed so I can be a blessing. It is my duty to step into the opportunities in front of me and work at them faithfully until someone better equipped comes along. I can't shirk the challenges because my selfishness prefers the comfort of solitude to the rigors of defending others. When I feel the pangs of worry and stress, the answer is not to relinquish my work, but rather to steel myself against the discomfort, for this is my obligation as a steward of my privilege.

And it is more than just a mental choice to persevere. The emotional tax of this work is real. Nevertheless, my comfort is not within myself and my sense of obligation. Rather, my God will strengthen me to do the things that are hard for me. As I flex my muscles, He will fortify them. He will give me peace when I am troubled. And it is His love that compels me. 

Make no mistake, this is not to say that we should take on roles that we are not qualified for. Well-intentioned but naive self-appointed saviors have done more damage than those with nefarious motivations at times. Self-reflection, as well as diligent and disciplined work, is critical to ensuring that our efforts have their desired effect, and even then, we have to have the humility to recognize and repent of our failures and shortcomings. 

But it must never be fear or self-preservation that dictates our work or makes our decisions for us.