what do we do with what we see?

When we encounter poverty, especially for the first time, something in us changes, something internal pulls, and something new stirs. For me that was probably some time in Mexico with Parkview Youth Group. Wow, they live here? People go to church here? Do they have other shoes?

When we encounter poverty, especially for the first time, there comes this realization of how blessed we are. And if we are honest we both hurt for the poor and becoming exceedingly thankful that we aren’t.

In these encounters, we also realize that God is with these people in some really special way. After all, we come to understand that he physically meets their daily needs. And so we become enlivened and excited to serve them and be with them because we know God is letting us do his work. And so we work. And then we leave.

And we leave and become confused. We come home and feel discontent, after all, our lives just had so much purpose. So we promise to change our lifestyle somehow. And perhaps we start giving more. I started sponsoring a World Vision girl.

And then life goes back to normal. And you occasionally remember a sight you saw, or you remember the lack of sanitation, and you say a quick prayer. But overall, you adjust well to your surroundings at home again and only become truly stirred the next time you get on a plane and decide to encounter poverty again.

So what happens- why do we care for awhile at all? And why does that fade?

In my encounters, my sympathy and guilt could only last so long. I felt a divide and sort of came to the understanding that this was just their plight, and what else could I do? If I was really honest I would tell you that I couldn’t’ relate to people who were so different. And so I made up narratives about the differences between us and them. Like, oh they are stronger so they can handle the heartbreak. Oh, this is all they’ve ever know, so they can’t long for what they havent’ seen. Or, it’s not like we could help where we were born. It’s not my fault my parents had money.

And I rationalized as I tried to make sense of it all. Because I, like you, only knew how to care so much. With every mission’s trip, that feeling came and went. And I just couldn’t figure out what all this poverty had to do with me.

That is, until the poor became my sisters and suddenly didn’t look so different than me. As we shared a home, I found out that they, like me, like to have warm showers. And they, like me, like to do other girl’s hair. They have stomach aches when they consume some parasitic bacteria. They get nervous trying to speak a new language. They really wanted to succeed in school. They liked playing, watching movies, they hated laundry and always wanted midnight snacks. And as they became we I found out that there were fewer differences than similarities between us as people. They were my sisters. And so poverty became ours.

Poverty is confusing. And it moves us and stirs us in strange ways. And at each taste of it, we feel pulled to partake in some way. But it’s too foreign, too vague, too unknown. And the taste goes away. And we stop caring simply because we don’t’ know what else to do.

When will we see that the lines between us and them are faded? When will we stop long enough to stand in poverty with our equals? When will we see them as our brothers and sisters?

Well, when we develop relationships.

We each know we were meant to love the poor. It's time we stop running from that. Make friends with your taxi driver to the airport, he has stories to share. Stop and talk to the foreigner, show her how to get a cart from Aldi. Get involved in someone's life and share a burden. You will be eternally changed. And you will ache for heaven. But you won't have to wonder what that tug is anymore. 

We must let poor into our lives. We must accept the foreign as family, we must do it together. Because all of that stirring inside of us, well, it’s a stirring that calls us to claim poverty as ours. It's a stirring for Shalom.