A-mnesty on Both Your Houses!

23 November 2010

Amnesty for my Home

Since I’ve arrived, there’s been a war on—a war that no one knows about. And it’s not hidden in secrecy from the public; no, it’s broadcast out to them daily, and it’s their ignorance that makes it hidden to them. If there is one thing I hate about the Australian culture, it’s something that the USA, at least in part, shares with them: immigration laws.

Over the course of the past few months, illegal immigrants—being smuggled in by ships from underdeveloped and war-torn countries like India, Burma (sorry if that’s politically incorrect), and various African nations—detained on places like Christmas Island in Processing Centers (like any other stock), have: threatened self-harm, threatened suicide, leaped off buildings (committing suicide), and, most recently, sewn their mouths closed. Why? Because they don’t want to go back.

The government is very even-keeled about it; if their refugee papers are legitimate, they will be allowed to stay under such a status. Seems rather reasonable.

Not really. I haven’t been around that much, and I’m not all that globally savvy, but I know enough to know that another poor black man in Africa, another homeless mother in India, and another soon-to-be casualty of a genocidal government can’t do much. And the less-than-much they have in their repertoire of skills usually does not include 1. Acquiring refugee papers 2. Reading or writing in English in order to properly fill them out 3. Reading or writing at all 4. Having a government with which they can lodge the papers, with any reasonable hope of their approval 5. Knowing how to properly lodge them, of the means to mail them out 6. Holding any freedom to leave the country they desire to flee because their life is in danger.

Any government that thinks people are sowing their mouths shut and killing themselves because they do not wish to fill out the proper paperwork…doesn’t deserve to be governing a nation conceived in liberty (well, that goes for the US; Australia was conceived in incarceration), or at least over a nation of free people. And my heart aches for the poor people who have been lulled asleep by this government; lulled into thinking that this is right. Lulled into believing that a person so oppressed, fleeing for their lives, would have the capability or means to play the game of proper procedure.

Get real people; saying that people are killing themselves just because they don’t like their country (and not because their country is out for their heads) is like saying the disciples sacrificed their lives for their practical joke of moving Jesus’ body. I don’t think so. They saw a risen, holy Lord, and these cowardice kids became mighty warriors and martyrs for the sake of the Kingdom of God. A kingdom whose laws include loosening the chains of injustice; seeking justice for the oppressed and defending the fatherless and the widow.

And in case any US Americans are wondering how this applies to us, perhaps you should look up the stats on how many human beings die each year trying to cross the deserts separating us from Mexico. Many of them are trying to save the lives of loved ones.

To put it simply, if we shall continue to claim that all men are created equal, and that they are entitled to certain rights, without alienation—life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness—if we shall claim that this nation was conceived in the goal of such liberty for all mankind, than our doors must always be open to those that are hurting, destitute, and without help.

But, if we are willing to throw those claims aside; to agree that upon such principles was our nation founded, but those are not the foundations upon which we have established ourselves today; if we will say that all United States citizens are created equal, and to them alone we will extend certain unalienable rights, among them life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, then I will be satisfied with our current dealings with our conniving little refugees for daring to share in the wealth of our lands.

But if ALL men are created equal, we’re gonna have to start sharing…

The frustration grows…

I first heard about the sewing of the mouths (and so had a new episode of righteous anger) on my way to get tires changed on my car. I decided to read the paper while waiting, and there found an article that grabbed my attention. The title was something about an amnesty bill for houses. Turns out, while the “fake” refugees are sowing their mouths closed, the Tasmanian government has been busy passing a law for the amnesty of building structures with shoddy construction. If they don’t meet building codes, amnesty will be handed out, so no fines for the illegal construction.

Reading this with those vile people who dared to escape their deaths in their home countries on my mind, I instantly thought of Amnesty International and became infuriated at this incredible irony of blasphemous proportions. Offering amnesty to people who have risked lives by taking stupid shortcuts, but not to people who have left everything they have ever known and loved to save lives. Amnesty International is about offering true justice and freedom to those who deserve, but have it not.

On my way home to look up the definition of amnesty (to make sure my rage was justified), I grabbed a late lunch. Waiting at a cross-walk, I stood beside an unfortunate gentleman  in an electric wheelchair. He mumbled something to me, which I didn’t quite understand (or maybe my subconscious assumed it had misheard). I asked him what he’d said, and the response, as I understood it, was a simple exclamation of surprise: “Black people walking down the street!”

I wasn’t angry with him. I pitied him and his ignorance, knowing that he would probably never change. No further enlightenment would fall upon his worldview, and his life would come to dust with that shadow remaining over his understanding of life. What a sad, dark, and lonelier existence to have! What a shameful way to be at your end…

The pitiful ignorance I see in people, in every land I visit…it’s detestable, although that is not the feeling it gives me. It’s more one of disappointment of this darkness that dampens the love.

“Love thy neighbor”… “Who’s my neighbor?”… “A man was traveling the road…which of these men was a neighbor to one who was robbed?”… “[Reluctantly]…the Samaritan…”.

“Go and do likewise.”

~While we were still sinners, He endured the shame; how can I ever be ashamed?

-Colton J. Stollenmaier, M.I.A.

Uncles, emails, and real stories!

Burglaries & Things

Ok, so for those of you who don’t know about it, it all really starts back at the beginning of the year, when I decided to be a student missionary. By this time, my roommate Jeremy Wong’s local aunt and uncle have adopted me as nephew. They find that my family is not doing so well financially, and decide to make sure I have everything I need for my journey—clothing, luggage, a suit (they insisted), and the rest. Of particular note were the two sets of cufflinks I was given, both very special, and the Seiko timepiece, a watch which had been in his (the uncle’s) possession for over 40 years (which I didn’t find out about until after all that I’m telling you know transpired). Even without that bit of knowledge, I knew it was important, and I valued it as a small treasure of mine.

Skip forward to the end of June and I leave for Tasmania. Below is an email I sent to them this morning. To fill in the missing gap, somewhere between the beginning and end of the story you’ll find within, you need to know about something which transpired about 2 and half months into my stay here and which I just looked back and realized I’d already told you about. I returned home from speaking at a youth rally over the weekend and found my house burgled. Hey cool, I thought you had to say burglarized. Burgled really is a word! Anyway, the police came and took my statement, dusted the glass for fingerprints, and took the smashing implement (a concrete rock) away to look for skin for DNA—sweet as! Still waiting for the insurance claim—yay for ARM!

So, without further ado…the email:

I've been meaning to get a message out to you for a while. Sorry for being so remiss.

It all starts the day you responded to my email about being burglarized. Actually, it starts two weeks after I got here, before I knew much about the area--like where a jeweler might be located. I was rough-housing with a new mate of mine (foolishly without taking my wonderful Seiko watch off), when the clasp on my watch got bent out, so that it would not remain snapped when I put it on. Intending to get it fixed when I knew the area better, I laid it aside, very unhappily--I hadn't gone a day without it since my journey's outset. Disappointed, I shrugged my shoulders and decided to use my mobile phone as a timepiece.

Then my house is robbed. Shocked, I look all around the house for things that might have gone missing. Because it has been some 3 months, the watch has faded into the periphery; one of those things that you don't see anymore, but you know it's there. So you don't worry about it.

You don't worry about it, that is, until your loving and concerned uncle messages you, concerned that the most precious of the gifts he gave you to show his loving care for you were the ones that were targeted in the robbery. As he especially reminds you of the preciousness of the Seiko chronograph he entrusted to your care. The watch comes screaming to the forefront of your consciousness, ripped away from the comforts of the safe periphery, where it was still with you, safely unnoticed in the background. The idea that it, too, might have been stolen, has never crossed your mind. You cannot fathom why; of course burglars would delight in such an item!

Rushing home, you find it missing from the place you'd known all along (in your naivety) it had been safely nestled, and it's not there. Of course! Unbelieving, you decide YOU misplaced it somehow. So you tear through the house, looking in all logical, but mostly illogical locations in the house. Next you rush to your car, slamming the front door, and beginning scouring the main road for a pawn shop of some description. You roam up and down the road, anger, fear, disappointment, and guilt all simmering together into a guttural anxiety that makes your last meal feel all too close to its starting point.

So, there you have it: I go home, broken in spirit, knowing that even that special present, the burglars did not let be in peace. If only I'd fixed it! I might have--WOULD have--had it upon my wrist at the moment of misfortune. It's gone, and though the insurance claim might still replace it, it will never be replaced in our hearts and minds of sentimentality--after all, that's all that truly gives anything any REAL value, isn't it? Even the most precious of diamonds is not precious at all when it's attainment costs no real trouble or loss and its value is virtually nil in the realm of relationships.

On to the world of since then. Last week, I was off on a trip to the Northwest of Tasmania, speaking for the spiritual emphasis week at our sister Sevvie (that's how they slang Seventh-day Adventist here). Tuesday through Friday, each morning began with a talk to the secondary school (grades 7-10), moving to sport with them for the next hour, which was followed by a talk to the primary school (K-6) and sport with that group. The theme was Kung Fu, in which I used basic lessons from the realm of Martial Arts/self defense to teach valuable spiritual lessons, from not fighting on to endurance and discipline in serving God and fighting sin; from not fearing to seeking justice, rebuking the oppressor and defending the oppressed, and protecting the fatherless and the widow. I used self defense training and exercises to emphasize the points made.

Over the weekend, I went further west along the coast. There, I was the featured speaker for a youth retreat. The theme was Now or Never, so I gave them the four best reasons I could think of that their decision time was now or never: the most obvious, Baptist reminder that "You never know what will happen to you or those you care about tomorrow--or even tonight! Who promised you tomorrow?"; the exhortation that they were made for greater things than these (video games, movies, tv, fashion, money...); the reminder that Jesus' promise is that, like a thief in the night, He is coming quickly; and finally, a bringing to consciousness that we are all so very tired of the evil in this world, and the promise was when Jesus' name was spread to the ends of the earth, the end of all this junk will finally come.

Aside from the speaking, the weekend was a blast anyway! I had heaps of fun with the kids there. If you have facebook, you could find a picture of me tagged on a trampoline, doing a back flip at about 2 meters (6'8") in the air. Between the gymnastic trampolines, basketball, hammock sleeping, and karaoke, the weekend was a smashing hit.

Monday morning, on my way back into work--being VERY careful to ensure that I would be on time for staff worship--I think they consider me a slacker at the school here--I begin to here a flapping on the passenger side rear tire (which, remember, is the left side of the care here). No! Yup. Flattened and split tire--no good but for making cheap shoe soles anymore. Needless to say, I was late. But, I arrived to a package from my favorite adopted aunt and uncle, packed with love and goodies! On top of that, I find myself at the conference office that afternoon, encountering a package from the Student Missions office at Southern Adventist University. A double whammy of love and affection! The combination of sweet-steaming serenity and gut-wrenching nostalgia is almost overwhelming. I feel the love and miss it unbearably all at the same time.

Thank you so much for the care package. Its contents were all the more valued for the love contained in them. And, praise to Jesus, He hasn't allowed these gifts of love to be stolen either--yet :P

With love from Jesus,

     Colton Stollenmaier
     Chaplain, Hilliard Christian School
     32 Cheviot Rd.
     West Moonah, TAS 7009
     0400 640 553
     cstollenmaier@southern.edu

"Therefore, my dear brothers, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain."     -1 Corinthians 15:58

Remembrances

Remember Remember the 11^th of November

Today is Remembrance Day in Australia, remembering the fallen soldiers of Australia. The date is chosen thanks to the signing of the armistice of World War I on 11 November 1918. Standing there, I was thinking about what I would say if I were called upon to pray. Finally, I decided that they wouldn’t anyway—I’m not an Australian, and that’s appropriate. But, I figured it would have to be something like this: I stand here today feeling rather unworthy to represent the people of Australia; I’m an American. And though I feel a kind of mateship between our two peoples, I know I am not them. I share neither the history nor the heritage that binds this nation together. Yet the reason they gather today; to show silence and homage to the fallen brothers and sisters, comrades who gave their lives, is a sentiment which I can stand with them in. In my eyes at least, it seems that both their mates and my national brothers offered their lives in an invariable pursuit of the same ideals: liberty and justice for all. To this end, in the quest for the freedom of all people and in chase of global justice, we all stand here. We stand to proclaim, that for this cause, this motive and intangible entity, we too will willingly offer our lives. These qualities bid us, whether through life or death, to suffer any cost to see their advent a reality. For in this aim we find meaning and purpose. For your glory and a heart like yours, give us the strength, our Lord. Amen.

And may we never forget, in Jesus’ name.