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May 11, 2010: Mourning in Paradise
Post by Julie Kilgore Joyner
Sometimes when I am struggling, or when I’m anxious and I’m trying to get through an unpleasant situation, I close my eyes and transport myself to a peaceful haven, to a place where I have always found the most real relaxation. I imagine myself on a raft, floating gently with the waves blowing through Palmetto Creek, where I spent my summers as a child. There is a rope tied around my foot, so I won’t drift off with the current, and I am bathing in the sun on a lazy afternoon. Sometimes I vary it a bit, and I see myself resting on the bow of my Dad’s 17 foot Oday sailboat, sailing through Perdido Bay, with the waves and the sun rocking me to sleep, waking every now and then to look for dolphins, or to come about and head the other way. I open my eyes to the bluest sky and watch the clouds moving overhead above the tall mast, the sound of the boat moving through the waves interrupted only by the clanging of the rings and the flapping of the sail.
I have gathered, over my fifty-two years of extended visits to this personal paradise, a rich bank of diverse and wonderful memories. Years of deheading shrimp on the dock, of eating those same shrimp that night, breaded and fried to a golden brown. Years of fresh mullet and fresh trout, crab cakes and oysters right out of Perdido Bay. Years of swimming in warm brackish water, of learning to waterski and then teaching my children to waterski along the same routes around the creek. Years of sailing with my Dad, of watching dolphins and amazing sunsets from the dock. A lifetime of sand castles and “turtle cities”. Summer days often taken for granted, spent on the front porch swing, watching egrets, cranes and pelicans swooping down to grab dinner from just below the water’s surface.
My grandfather bought this land in 1950, seven years before I was born. And no matter where my Dad’s job took us, Perdido was always home, from June through August, back when summers lasted three months. Perdido Beach, Alabama. Every summer of my life. Every summer of my children’s lives. Year after year, kicking up the same sand down the drive to the mailbox. It has always been there, at the dead end of the two-lane highway where I learned to drive, where I taught my kids to drive, nestled between two creeks, a place where life was simple and time stood still. My very own golden pond.
We learned over the years, how to weather the hurricanes. More than once we packed up the valuables and drove inland to wait out Danny or Ivan or Katrina. We repaired the roof and rebuilt the dock. We cut up the fallen trees and cut down the dead trees, killed slowly by the salt water or the beetles. Adjusting to the altered landscape after such a loss was a real challenge for my eighty year-old father. Now, five years later, the trees we planted to replace the lost foliage are beginning to fill in the gaps. It’s just beginning to feel cozy again.
Now we face an enemy most of us had never even thought about. We sit on the porch looking out to the bay and we wonder. The weather patterns direct a menacing darkness of a different kind which is lurking somewhere out there beyond the horizon, threatening our peaceful paradise. We wonder where this ominous oil slick, the size of Rhode Island, will make landfall. We wonder how many dolphins and sea turtles, pelicans, egrets and cranes will be lost. We wonder how, in an already hurting economy, the shrimpers and the fishermen will survive this blow and how tourism will be impacted. Will folks who are just now regaining their footing along the coast be able to withstand a catastrophe of this proportion? We watch and we wait and we listen to the news to see who will be most affected. We wonder how long it will take the marshes and the swamps, the nesting grounds for so many life forms, to recover. We go to the beaches and try to help with clean up before the oil hits. We take classes in how to deal with “contamination”, specifically how to clean oil off of animals. It is knowledge that we never knew we would need. We buy Dawn.
With this gigantic shadow looming just off the coastline, we watch, we wait, we wonder and we hope. We watch with sadness and inexplicable grief at the scope of the struggling wildlife, at the potential loss of this haven, this refuge we have called home for so long. We are confused and disoriented by it all. We are uncertain. A general oppression hangs in the air. We are afraid. We wait to see how this unexpected and unwelcome threat will impact our individual communities and our individual lives. And we wonder, most of all, why a company that boasted a pre-tax profit of 14 billion dollars last year would opt out on a $500,000 shut-off valve that could have prevented this catastrophe. We hope that the experts know what they are doing now. We hope that we can learn the lesson from this costly mistake; that we never have to repeat this one. That we can figure out a way to balance our need for energy with our absolute responsibility as stewards of this earth to pursue these goals in the safest way possible, while treasuring and protecting God’s creation and people.
It looks at this point like I will be able to enjoy the clean shores of Perdido Beach this summer since current forecasts predict a landfall west of the Alabama line. Our homeplace has probably escaped the worst of it. But I feel the loss for all those along the coastline whose lives will be drastically altered by this tragedy. And there is no doubt that, among those most affected, there are eleven families who will feel the pain of this catastrophe long after the shoreline is cleaned up.
My parents were raised just a few hours down the road in Philadelphia MS. They lived there until they were married and all of my grandparents are buried there in the town cemetery. I still own the house there where my mother was born. Every summer we make the trek from the coast of Alabama, over to our family reunion in Neshoba County, Mississippi. Though miles from the open waters, this sleepy inland town was affected in the darkest way of all. This community lost a son to the oil explosion that resulted in this terrible spill. Dale Burkeen died a hero, the crane operator who lifted everyone else onto the boats to safety. He was thirty-seven, a loving husband and father, a hard working man who saved many lives before going down with the rig. It would be easy for the massive ongoing struggle with the oil slick to obscure the price he and ten others paid. It does seem insurmountable. It’s a literal, incomprehensible mess. But, as we muddle through the fallout, it is critical that we remember them. We will deal with the complex problems of this menacing evil and our lives will go on. The debate over domestic oil exploration will go on. But they will never sit down to another seafood dinner with their families; and they won’t ever enjoy another sunset over the Gulf of Mexico. After mulling it over, this is where my thoughts land. All the more reason to figure out exactly what happened, and to make damn sure that it never happens again.
For now, we need to unite our hearts and prayers in support for our neighbors to the South, remembering them as they face these struggles in the days ahead. May the Lord give us the extraordinary patience and supernatural wisdom that we will need as we embrace these challenging times and work towards better solutions. May the Lord bring comfort and practical relief to those who find themselves on the forefront of this adversity. It is His peace that surpasses understanding that brings the calm in the storm and it is His strength that moves us forward to a place of overcoming.
Julie Kilgore Joyner is a native of the Gulf Coast. These days, she and her husband, Rick Joyner, live in Fort Mill, SC. They co-founded Morningstar Fellowship and Ministries over 20 years ago and both participate in ministry leadership, with Julie focusing on music and social justice initiatives. She is the loving mother of Anna Jane, Aaryn, Amber Grace, Ben, and Sam; and proud daughter of Mississippi natives, Jane and Clayton Kilgore.
April 1, 2010: Historic Hope for Ending MTR Arrives on the Eve of Easter
Post by Anna Jane Joyner
Dear Friends,
I have GREAT news! On the eve of Easter, our celebration of hope and renewal through Christ, we now have a new hope for ending the incredible harm caused to Appalachian communities by mountaintop removal (MTR) mining.
Thursday afternoon, Restoring Eden participated in the national telephone press conference where EPA director, Lisa Jackson, announced new guidelines to protect Appalachian communities from the harmful environmental impacts of mountaintop removal!
The new guidelines are complex, and it will take a while to sort through the actual implications of this historical action (check out the EPA press release for more info). However, we DO know that providing more stringent guidelines for MTR is a HUGE step in the right direction. In particular, we know this new issuance of guidance for MTR mining does take into account, for the first time, the public health and environmental justice impacts of MTR.
Restoring Eden has worked with you and others to end MTR for over 5 years. Of late, we've been focused on helping lead the Christian community's efforts to end MTR by holding the EPA accountable on this issue.
Thank you to everyone who has worked with us to help end MTR and protect the communities of Appalachia. Your prayers, advocacy, and efforts are working!
If you'd like more information or to get involved, please contact Anna Jane Joyner at annajane@restoringeden.org
Happy Easter!
AJ
P.S. The EPA has now opened a public comment period on the new guidelines. We look forward to working with you and our partners to participate in this process and continue to raise our voices to protect God's creation and people in Appalachia!
March 26, 2010: Putting Love into Action
Post by Michelle Alkema, Dordt College
This spring break, I had the opportunity to visit West Virginia on a service trip. I traveled with a group of ten other students from Dordt College where I am a student. Our group arrived in West Virginia with very few ideas about what to expect. We were met with an eye-opening experience. Our group is from all around the country, and only a few of us had any idea what mountaintop removal was.
We were privileged to spend a lot of time outdoors at the beginning of the week. The beauty of Appalachia left me in awe. As the week went on, we learned about mountaintop removal coal mining. In contrast to the appreciation I had felt for the creation through hikes and other activities earlier in the week, learning about this destructive process appalled me.
I was shocked by the complete disregard for the ecosystems destroyed when a mountain is "lowered," but even more so was I disturbed by the disregard for the lives of the people in Appalachia. These people seem to be forgotten by most of the country. They are forced to send their children to elementary schools that lay in the shadow of huge toxic slurry ponds, are denied clean water, and are having natural resources and wealth extracted from their state, leaving the region in poor economic shape. Interacting with these forgotten people of Appalachia opened my eyes to the suffering within the borders of the United States. It was shocking, but the people were also inspiring. These people are far from the typical activists, but the actions of the coal companies have forced them into activism to protect themselves, their culture, and the future of their homeland.
As a Christian, seeing the devastation that the practice of mountaintop removal has on God's earth and people was unsettling. It was obvious to me that God's sovereignty is evident in creation and that the sinful nature of humans is apparent in its destruction. I left the week we spent in West Virginia overwhelmed by the gravity of the issue, but also inspired. I was inspired by the hope and fight of the people of Appalachia and the suggestions Restoring Eden gave our group, letting us know what we could do to change the situation. I am now informed and able to spread the word about mountaintop removal coal mining and make a difference in the movement to end it. As I move forward from this experience in Appalachia, I keep the stories and experiences I've had with me and keep the situation in my prayers. Nothing is impossible with God.
March 25, 2010: Mountaintop Removal Service Learning Trip
Post by Rachel Gorter, Dordt College
I had the blessed opportunity to travel to the West Virginia coal fields during the past week. The experience I gained in West Virginia was one of a lifetime. The Lord moved in me in such powerful ways while I was there and upon my return to college.
While in West Virginia, my group was able to speak with a number of people from the community of Ansted and surrounding communities who are working to fight MTR. The passion those people had for fighting MTR and the hope we gave them was remarkable. Our mere presence in West Virginia was enough form many of those people to feel hope that their cause was not going to be lost, and that MTR would eventually be stopped. Although meeting and talking with people about MTR was an extremely important part of my journey through Appalachia, more important was the journey upon which my spirit was forced to embark.
This particular journey actually started about a year ago when a friend became greatly interested in creation care. I followed on that path and became interested in environmentalism; however, the past just never quite seemed satisfactory to me for some unknown reason. Because of my time spent in Ansted, WV, speaking with many people, I have learned that creation care and environmental stewardship are things that I am actually called to do throughout the Bible. Being an environmentalist is nothing without Christ; he made this creation and has set me free to care for that creation. The call to Christian environmentalism is a call to love my neighbor and to advocate for social justice. In the Appalachian coal fields, I learned that God created creation, he made it good, and we should appreciate that creation as God's. Second, we have been given a call to tend and keep that creation (Gen. 2:15). Third, we are called to love our neighbors as ourselves, which means not putting nature ahead of other humans, but rather looking out for our brothers and sisters in Christ. Loving our neighbor means taking care of our environment, so they may have a healthy and safe environment to live in as well. Loving our neighbor through Christian environmentalism became quite evident to me during my time in the Appalachian coal fields. I thank God for pushing me to go to Appalachia and for blessing my endeavor.
March 17, 2010: Mountaintop Removal: Week in Washington
Post by Kyle Schaap, Calvin College
Wow, what an experience! I just got back from Washington, DC as a participant of the 5th annual End Mountaintop Removal Week in Washington and already I want to go back! It was an incredible time of fellowship, adventure, and advocating on behalf of God's creation. I could write for pages about so many things, but for the sake of time and space, I want to focus on one experience that meant a lot to me and really changed my perspective on our effort around this issue.
We exited the hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant with full stomachs and light hearts. It was the end of an exhausting day of presentations and advocacy training and we were enjoying the break and each other's company. We had some leftovers with us and planned on offering them to a homeless person that we would inevitably run into on the street. We made our way outside of Chinatown and meandered through the city, enjoying the unseasonably warm air and the joy of new friendships. It was then that we were smacked in the face with the tragic juxtaposition of Washington DC: a homeless man standing in front of the Hyatt hotel (complete with a pool in the lobby with a piano player in the middle), surrounded by limousines, asking for food. We knew at once that this was the man that we were supposed to give the food to. What we didn't know though, was that we were about to make a new friend.
Reggie Ross has been homeless for a little over a year now. His wife died three years ago, and he took it hard. He had a tough time focusing on work, and as a result, ended up losing his job. Once he ran out of savings, he was forced to the streets. He only sees his three boys (the youngest is still in high school) once a month and spends most of his days handing in applications for custodial work at various buildings. Reggie Ross is also a human being, created in the image of God with just as much value as any member of Congress that we visited that week. It struck me that we were there fighting for the oppressed residents of Appalachia and here was a man that few people, if any, give a modicum of consideration to. He said it himself: "People don't look at me. They just walk right by like I'm not even a human being." My heart broke at the injustice right under my nose; the injustice that I perpetuate every time I see a homeless person and walk by.
We ended up spending dinner with Reggie the next night and got a chance to share the story of mountaintop removal with him. He was shocked and immediately donned the "Stop Mountaintop Removal" pins we gave him with enthusiasm, promising to tell everyone that would listen about the injustices being perpetuated in Appalachia. I was overwhelmed with his response and thought to myself, "Because we took the time to talk to Reggie, we have gained another advocate for our movement." Then it hit me: if he can promise to be an advocate for the mountains, why shouldn't I promise to be an advocate for him, and everyone else in his situation? Injustice is injustice, whether it's poisoned water or the denial of dignity and human interaction. We need each other in this world, and just because you are passionate about one injustice doesn't mean that you need to ignore the other ones. On the contrary, many are intimately connected.
As Christians, God calls us to be the voice of those who don't have one, be they in Appalachia or downtown Washington DC. This experience has taught me to take this call seriously and to live it out in every aspect of my life. I thank God that our group was receptive to Reggie that night. That we didn't just walk by and pretend that he wasn't there. Because we took the time to talk to him, my life has been forever changed. All the other wonderful experiences from the trip were icing on the cake!
March 1, 2010: Creation and the Kingdom
Post by Tim Cook
Attending the Jubilee conference throughout College, I was always impressed with the quality of its content and the diversity of its teaching. The conference and its speakers always found a new way to broaden and deepen my understanding of where and how we should be following in the shadow of Christ’s example. One aspect, however, I realized was often lacking from its broad spectrum of truth-telling: tending God’s creation. This stewardship of the earth was one of the first commands given to humans. We were put here both to work the earth and take care of it. While my experience with the Jubilee conference, and with Christian teaching in general, had often taught me how to work to build God’s kingdom on earth, it had rarely (if ever) taught me how to care for his kingdom of the earth. This is a mission I have thankfully realized on my own.
When I heard Andrew would be talking with students about Restoring Eden at Jubilee, I was thrilled that students would be challenged with this vital aspect of faithful living. For too long has the Church been mostly silent on these issues which I believe to be essential to the Christian faith. To show my support for the cause (and for Andrew) I assisted with the Restoring Eden outreach table and was excited by the passion and interest of the students who spoke with us. Although I recognize that issues of Creation Care are (thankfully!) becoming more widely understood, the presence of Restoring Eden at Jubilee was important for the students (and myself).
Even today when things that are “green” and “eco-friendly” are popular and accessible, we need to be reminded that we are commanded to serve and love both the children of the Creator and his Creation. This work, when taken seriously, will not always be popular, but it will always be crucial to the mission of the Church. I am hopeful that organizations such as Restoring Eden will continue their work and speaking their message so that the stewardship of God’s Creation is always present in the minds of those who seek to follow Christ.
February 17, 2010: Ash Wednesday
Post by Abbey Kopan
“Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”
-The Book of Common Prayer, Liturgy for Ash Wednesday
These words struck me as I sat reflecting on the beginning of the season of Lent during an Ash Wednesday service. Although I was not brought up observing Lent, as I have gotten older I have discovered great value, beauty, and wisdom in this sacred season. A time of reflection and prayer, confession and repentance, it is a chance to refocus on how we are called to live daily for Christ. Because of what He gave up for us, in love and humility during Lent, we choose to give up something too. When I remember my mortality in comparison with the glory and infinity of God, I truly am only dust, and soon enough, my body will return to the dust. If this is true, how could I ever think that I deserve to have what my body desires, the luxury of a comfortable and easy life?
We continued into the Litany of Penitence:
“We confess to you, Lord…Our self-indulgent appetites and ways, and our exploitation of other people, We confess to you, Lord.
…Our intemperate love of worldly goods and comforts, and our dishonesty in daily life and work, We confess to you, Lord.
Accept our repentance, Lord, for the wrongs we have done:
For our blindness to human need and suffering, and our indifference to injustice and cruelty, Accept our repentance, Lord.
…For our waste and pollution of your creation, and our lack of concern for those who come after us, Accept our repentance, Lord.
…Therefore we beseech him to grant us true repentance and his Holy Spirit, that those things may please him which we do on this day, and that the rest of our life hereafter may be pure and holy, so that at the last we may come to his eternal joy; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”
I found myself overwhelmed with a mixture of emotions, sorrow at my shortcomings, while simultaneously the great peace of knowing that “the Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love (Psalm 103:8, NIV).” The season of Lent is a valuable reminder of how we should walk, not only today, but every single moment of our lives. We must learn to trust God for his provision of what we need, and therefore let go of our tendency to hoard resources or time or energy for our own security.
So what might this mean for you? Even if you weren’t planning on participating in Lent this year, or never have before, I would encourage you to prayerfully consider what God might be asking you to let go of in pursuit of a life that better reflects His character and love. Perhaps from an energy and environment perspective, you choose to buy and eat locally, drive less, turn down your heat, or take shorter showers. Or perhaps you focus your prayers on those affected by environmental issues. Whatever you do, take a risk and see what incredible ways God will provide for you, change you, and bring you closer to Him.
A Prayer for Today:
Gracious and generous God, you provide all we need to live and thrive. Forgive us for the ways that we fail to do justice to your people and your creation. Lead us to a renewed earth, a greater understanding of how we can be faithful with what you have given us, and a future filled with hope and life for all. Amen.
