END IT

   Tuesday, April 9th, was END IT day. For those of you who don't know what END IT is, or those of you who were wondering why red X's were cluttering your Facebook newsfeed on Tuesday, you're about to find out.
   Back in January, I attended the Passion conference in Atlanta, Georgia. It was an amazing week, with incredible speakers and worship. However, this year Passion also helped launch END IT, a movement to promote awareness of slavery and human trafficking.
   I knew that this was an issue before I went to Passion, but I didn't think about it much. Now I do. That week opened my eyes and broke my heart. 27 million people enslaved. The average cost of of one of those human slaves today? About $76 US currency, less than an iPod. This sickened me. The faces of the eight year old slave boy on a fishing boat, the five year old girl forced into prostitution in Cambodia, the family in India forced to make bricks by hand for twelve hours a day...they've stayed with me. I came home shaken...and angry. Angry at the people who enslave others. Angry at the condition of our world. Angry at myself, for not knowing and not caring about it.
   Thankfully, Passion had provided us with info on some great resources. In addition to promoting END IT, they showcased several other organizations that fight human trafficking. Polaris Project, Not For Sale, A21, Made in a Free World (Slavery Footprint), Love 146 and International Justice Mission. One of the first things they encouraged us to do was go to www.slaveryfootprint.org (which I recommend that you do as well), and take the quiz to see how many slaves worked for us individually. I was a little reluctant-ignorance is bliss, after all-but I did it anyway. To my horror, I discovered that I have at least thirty three slaves working for me. Thirty three. And now that I knew, I had to choose to ignore it, or do something about it. I chose to do something.
   It was harder than I thought it would be. Almost everything is made with slave labor. Ballpoint pens, electronics, clothes, makeup, coffee (why? why coffee?!), chai tea (not this, too!), and even chocolate (seriously? As if the coffee and chai weren't bad enough already!) are all made with slave labor. And those are only the items that immediately affected me.
   Thanks to the internet, all was not lost. My mother (who after hearing me rant for three days after Passion, and taking the SF quiz herself, decided to join the madness) discovered fair trade health and beauty products at the Body Shop. Conveniently, there was a store not terribly far from us. We found fair trade coffee (yes!), chai (yes!!!) and even chocolate (YES!) at Ten Thousand Villages (for those of you back home reading this, both stores are in Champaign/Urbana-go!)
   In addition to all this, I got an END IT action pack, and I planned on painting my town red (figuratively, of course), come April 9th. And then God turned my world upside down and moved me to Haiti.
   In the midst of all that, END IT wasn't exactly the first thing on my mind, so I didn't think much of it. Until I started to realize that living in Haiti made my anti-slavery activism...difficult. The people of Port-de-Paix know nothing of END IT. Neither did most of the missionaries here. Many things that I had hoped to do were no longer a possibility. Standing outside for 27 hours for the 27 million? Something I had hoped to do at home, but not practical for Haiti. I was slightly discouraged, but I opted to look on the bright side, sharing photos, pages, and statuses on Facebook. On February 27th, END IT had a "disappear on social media day". Aha! Something I could do, even from here! Except that our internet decided to be so slow that day, I couldn't log in to Facebook, let alone deactivate my account. Hmph. Another decrease in morale level.
   So here I was, April 9th. END IT day. I wore a red dress to school, and changed to my END IT shirt afterwards and drew the red X on my hand. I would have worn the X during school, but decided not to, since I would have had to explain to my kids that: A- I do not have a tattoo, B- yes, your teacher did, in fact, draw on herself (which I'm constantly telling them NOT to do), and C- tell them why their teacher drew on herself (explaining human trafficking to first graders? I think not). But none of this mattered. In a city of random t-shirts, my white skin draws way more attention than what I wear. That red X on my hand? I uploaded  a photo to Instagram and Facebook, but what is that worth? What good does that do when there are 27 million people desperate for help?
   Frustrated and feeling useless, I prayed. Jesus, I want so badly to make a difference? I know there is slavery in Haiti, but I don't see it. What can I do?
   And then they came to me. Thirty one little faces that I get to see almost every day came to my mind. Thirty one precious kids that are receiving an education-and as a result will never have to face a life of slavery. Fifteen sweet little girls that will never be forced into sex slavery. Sixteen crazy (but also sweet) boys, who will never work as slaves. They can speak English. They can speak French. They can read and write. With God working through me, they will get even better. Slavery will never be something they have to fear.
   Deep gratitude filled me. Thank you Jesus, for using me. For allowing me to be a part of Your plan to break the chains of the slaves. Even though it doesn't look quite like I thought it would, I'm making a difference. One day in a first grade classroom didn't seem like much to me at first, but now I can see a hint of the long term results. And ultimately, it's not up to me to stop human trafficking. It's not up to me, or Passion, IJM, or any other person or organization. It's up to God. Which is really for the best, because He cannot lose. All we have to do is be faithful where He's put us. Which for some of us, might be in a non-profit organization. It might be rescuing girls in Cambodia. It might be sharing a movement via social networking. It might be standing for 27 hours on a college campus. It might be organizing a rescue hotline for those stuck in prostitution.
   For me, it's first grade classroom. So I'll keep praying for those who are in chains. I'll keep sharing photos. And I'll keep doing my best to be faithful where I am, one phonics lesson at a time.