In order to understand this post, you need to understand one key thing first: my wife is a badass. She speaks truth to power—from bishops to City Councilmembers. You want an example? Here’s what she said to Dallas City Council when their ineffective Not-In-My-Backyard-Do-Little-Homeless-Commission (not their official title) was making paltry recommendations on city policy that would further restrict her church’s ability to care for unsheltered neighbors on the few nights when Dallas, TX is actually cold.
I worry that many of the proposals [being discussed] come from a Not in My Backyard mentality. I, too, rise to offer Not in My Backyard proposals, but the proposals I would offer are rooted in morality and the faith that comes from Christian scriptures.
This past winter, among the individuals we provided warmth included infants whose mothers were without shelter. Exposed to the elements these children may not have made it through the night. When we open the doors of our church, we proclaim, ‘infants won’t die on the street tonight—not in my back yard.’
When we open the doors of our church we proclaim, ‘people without shelter will not be deprived their right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.’ Not in my back yard.
When we open the doors of our church we proclaim, ‘human beings will not be stripped of their dignity just because they’ve been stripped of their financial well-being” Not in my back yard.
Close the doors of our church to those in need, try to stop my church from following through on the mission appointed to us by God and you’ll have one hell of a fight in your front yard because this city will not deny us the right to religious expression and freedom so that some citizens can shuffle unsheltered persons into far away places and feel a little better about the comforts they enjoy.
Bad. Ass.
Years ago, Rachel’s heart was broken by the growing world-wide refugee crisis. She led an exploratory team to Lesvos to join relief efforts there. Over the years, their work shifted to Lebanon, a nation swelling with refugees. Her team launched Safe Spaces, a non-profit that builds schools for refugees, employs refugee teachers and executes a socio-emotional curriculum to help combat the Post Traumatic Stress experienced by almost every refugee child.
Bad. Ass.
As her husband, I can tell you that although she is wired for badass Christian advocacy, it is not easy for her. It’s stressful and frightening and requires that she make herself repeatedly vulnerable to people who can wound and disappoint her. Teddy Roosevelt’s “man in the arena” speech is written into her notebook because critics ring loudly in her ears. Onlookers see her confident call. They don’t see her tears because she HATES it, let me underline that, hates it when people see her cry (I’m sure she hates that I just wrote that publicly). Still, she chooses to perform same-gender marriages when the United Methodist Church prohibits such work and threatens to take away her credentials as a pastor. She knows in her heart that an unjust law is no law at all. Bad ass.
What does this have to do with the title of this post?
As big as the cost is of all her badassery, the hardest thing for my wife to do is get on a plane and travel halfway around the world to take care of refugees or meet with Methodist delegates in the hope that she can be a part of building a better church. She isn’t afraid to fly—in truth, I think she really enjoys the chance to unplug and watch movies on a tiny screen while talking to no one for 17 hours at a time. Her biggest fear about all of this travel is that somehow her children will think she loves kids halfway around the world more than them because she consistently prioritizes building schools for Syrian and Palestinian refugees in Lebanon and advocating for LGBTQ rights around the globe while her own children face discrimination at home.
We—as in her kids and I—miss her dearly. She gives life and love and joy to all of us. She will be gone more than she is home in the first 5 months of this year, but we have all decided that we are okay with it.
When she travels across continent and country to build a more inclusive and united church, Rachel isn’t teaching our kids that other people matter more than they do…she is teaching our children that some things matter so much you get on a plane, leave everything behind and do something to address the needs of our fellow human beings. She teaches them that we have a responsibility for the well being of one another no matter what geography or politics may separate.
And we are all here for it.
My wife is currently in the Philippines, portions of which experienced recent ruin following volcanic eruptions. Because breathing masks are nearly impossible to procure in the Philippines during China’s coronavirus epidemic, United Methodist relief teams are breathing in noxious fumes while helping communities recover.
This is three of our kids, packing suitcases full of masks for her to bring to United Methodist relief workers in the Philippines.
We are on team Rachel Baughman. This is how we change the world.
Rachel has the skills and connections to make a difference on an international stage that I never could. So I team up with my parents and in-laws to change the world by intentionally spending extra time with our kids while she travels so that she can focus more on her work while she is gone.
Rachel’s congregation and staff step up in her absence from the church building because their values align with hers. They contribute to her world-changing by preaching, visiting the sick, covering administrative duties and running overflow shelters without her direct participation.
Our kids change the world by telling Rachel it’s okay for her to travel and excitedly greet her when she returns, never dreading or acting out when she, once more, gets on a plane. They see the hero that she is and she sees it in their eyes.
Valentine was sainted because he sacrificed for love.
My wife isn’t here on Valentine’s Day.
As long as she comes back home safely (unlike St. Valentine), we’re okay with that.
