jogging + privilege + being a christian in the suburbs

For the past few years, my sister Lau has held me accountable to go running. When she left for Paris three weeks ago (more on that here), I worried I would stop jogging altogether. 

A self-peptalk later, I convinced myself that would not be the case. I have been essentially forcing myself to go every other night. It's actually been working. I don't think about it, I just go. 

Surprisingly, I am starting to quite enjoy these jogs. I love finding my rhythm, blasting my music and gliding through the air, a sense of empowerment whooshing over me. Do not get me wrong- I am not an incredible runner by any means (we are talking 3.5 km- 5 km max), but it is a beginning. 

Running has come to be freeing, releasing. Most importantly, it allows me to get completely lost in my thoughts. You don't need to think about much when running, other than putting one foot in front of the other and breathing (I forget that part sometimes). So, my mind drifts here and there and everywhere, and I hear the whisper of every thought and prayer as I canter, pulling slowly one foot after the other. 

I was about a mile away from my house the other night when I found myself thinking about my neighbourhood. I live in my family home, in the suburbs of Montreal. I grew up just fifteen minutes from the city, in a quaint area by the water filled with young families and retirees. 

As I passed perfectly trimmed lawn, quiet houses with quaint gardens and white fences, I thought, I like my neighbourhood. It's not too busy. It's nice and clean. I feel safe. 

That's when the Holy Spirit nudged me. Funny how that happens when you least expect, isn't it? 

For the first time in my life, I began to think twice about the implications of this casual appraisal of my neighbourhood. 

How can I think that way without feeling convicted spiritually? As I continued running, I was realizing that I talk and think from a position of privilege. I am apart of the minority of women in the world who can freely leave their homes alone in the evening, without a worry in the world other than if my shoelaces will get untied. 

How, as a Jesus follower, am I not concerned about this injustice? I honestly feel like I am perpetuating inequity by not thinking twice about this systemic advantage. 

I have a heart for marginalized people and I want to fight for justice. How can I do that without being with and talking to marginalized people more? Living in the suburbs does not challenge my comforts and tendencies at all. How is it fulfilling the mandate of Isaiah 1:17? 

"Learn to do good; seek justice, correct oppression; bring justice to the fatherless, plead the widow's cause." 

I am not seeking justice or correcting oppression by valuing comfortable suburban living in the Global North and being completely out of touch with the oppressed. 

Should I sell everything I own and move to a low-income community? That can't be the only answer (and realistically, it would be pretty much impossible for me in this stage of life as a student). I can't be legalistic. Not all Christians are called to move to low-income communities. God is needed here, too. 

And while I don't feel like my calling is to a white middle-class suburban demographic group, what if this is where God is calling me here for this season? 

I ran, and kept thinking.

So, if I stay in the suburban terrain, how do I confront my privilege? In spite of my living situation, how do I better understand the realities of the oppressed, the subaltern, the least of these? 

I need to acknowledge my privilege. Not in a I-like-my-neighbour's-white-fence-and-I'm-thankful-for-this-waterfront-view kind of way. Rather, I need to understand with humility that my reality (and my accomplishments!) are rooted in advantages that are deeply woven into global society.

Moreover, though my immediate environment may not be blatantly filled with marginalized people, I must remember gender, race and class (and other) injustices are not impossible to find in suburbia. It's not like social justice can't be diligently fought for in areas that are not generally associated with social activism. 

And then it hit me. 

How do I confront my own poverty? 

Because middle-class and wealthy communities need to acknowledge their poverty, too. 
I am not referring to material need, lack of services and systemic difficulty. Rather, our poverty is this dangerous spiritual context in which we find ourselves so privileged and wealthy,"blessed", that we come to believe we have everything under control. 

I made it around the corner and ran the last couple meters. 

Confronting our poverty will mean coming face to face with our desperate need for Jesus. Acknowledging the urgency of my need for His grace and His restoration is the only way I can follow Him, becoming His hands and His feet wherever He leads me. 

"Whoever shuts their ears to the cry of the poor will also cry out and not be answered" (Proverbs 21:13)