"In Your Land": a critical look at my own heart
A few days ago, I was stopped at a red light. To my right, standing on the corner, was a young woman who looked to be about seven or eight months pregnant. At first, I thought she was waiting on a bus. Then I realized there was no bus stop, and she was holding a cardboard sign. All I could see on the sign was the word "pregnant."
In a matter of seconds, I rationalized myself out of helping this woman. When I reflected on this moment later, I realized that I convinced myself of the following: 1) I don't have time to help her; I'm on my way somewhere; 2) What is a dollar or two going to do for her?; 3) She's probably not even homeless.
Only one day prior to this incident, I was sitting at my kitchen table during my quiet time prayer--sobbing. I was crying because my heart was/is breaking for the refugees and the international families whose lives have been drastically and negatively impacted by Trump's recent policies. I was crying because I believe that God has created me with a heart for international people and international issues, and I feel personally connected to many of the stories that I've heard. I was crying because I know Iranians, and Sudanese, and Libyans. I was crying because I know that for many of these people, especially the Syrians, the new policies are a death sentence. I was crying because I read a lot about the horrible human rights violations that are being committed on the other side of the world and I feel helpless in my ability to help.
But today during my quiet time, I read this from Deuteronomy: "For there will never cease to be poor in the land. Therefore I command you, 'You shall open wide your hand to your brother, to the needy and to the poor, in your land.'"
I immediately thought of the pregnant woman on the street corner. The poor in my own land.
Yes, God has created me with a heart that is drawn to the world, to different cultures, to unseen and different challenges. But, that makes it easy and comfortable (most of the time) for me to hurt for my brothers and sister overseas. And yet...when I am faced with a sister right beside me, whose face I can see, whose swollen belly I cannot miss, whose eyes I try to look away from...my heart hardens.
So today, I began to imagine what it would look like if I had pulled over my car. Sent a text to my friend I was meeting and said "I'm going to be late." Got out and said hello to this woman. Asked her her name. Asked her about her baby. Asked her when her last meal was. And then I would have taken her to lunch, bought her a warm meal--whatever she was craving. During the meal, I would have asked her to tell me her story. Who are you and how did you get here? What do you love? What are your dreams? And then I would have asked her about her health, if she's taking pre-natal vitamins, if she's been to the doctor, if she knows where she'll have the baby. And then I would have figured out a resource in town that could provide her with medical care without insurance. And, hopefully, I could have found a place that would provide even a temporary home for her (and the baby) and hope for a way out of poverty.
Maybe it would have taken the whole day. But if there's one thing I have to give right now during this season of unemployment, it's time.
It's easy for me to care and cry about my brothers and sisters overseas, and yet I am so quick to turn away from the ones who need love that are in my own backyard. Starting today, I am working to change this. There but for the grace of God go I.
"If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him? Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth. This then is how we know that we belong to the truth, and how we set our hearts at rest in his presence whenever our hearts condemn us. For God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything." 1 John 3:17-20
In a matter of seconds, I rationalized myself out of helping this woman. When I reflected on this moment later, I realized that I convinced myself of the following: 1) I don't have time to help her; I'm on my way somewhere; 2) What is a dollar or two going to do for her?; 3) She's probably not even homeless.
Only one day prior to this incident, I was sitting at my kitchen table during my quiet time prayer--sobbing. I was crying because my heart was/is breaking for the refugees and the international families whose lives have been drastically and negatively impacted by Trump's recent policies. I was crying because I believe that God has created me with a heart for international people and international issues, and I feel personally connected to many of the stories that I've heard. I was crying because I know Iranians, and Sudanese, and Libyans. I was crying because I know that for many of these people, especially the Syrians, the new policies are a death sentence. I was crying because I read a lot about the horrible human rights violations that are being committed on the other side of the world and I feel helpless in my ability to help.
But today during my quiet time, I read this from Deuteronomy: "For there will never cease to be poor in the land. Therefore I command you, 'You shall open wide your hand to your brother, to the needy and to the poor, in your land.'"
I immediately thought of the pregnant woman on the street corner. The poor in my own land.
Yes, God has created me with a heart that is drawn to the world, to different cultures, to unseen and different challenges. But, that makes it easy and comfortable (most of the time) for me to hurt for my brothers and sister overseas. And yet...when I am faced with a sister right beside me, whose face I can see, whose swollen belly I cannot miss, whose eyes I try to look away from...my heart hardens.
So today, I began to imagine what it would look like if I had pulled over my car. Sent a text to my friend I was meeting and said "I'm going to be late." Got out and said hello to this woman. Asked her her name. Asked her about her baby. Asked her when her last meal was. And then I would have taken her to lunch, bought her a warm meal--whatever she was craving. During the meal, I would have asked her to tell me her story. Who are you and how did you get here? What do you love? What are your dreams? And then I would have asked her about her health, if she's taking pre-natal vitamins, if she's been to the doctor, if she knows where she'll have the baby. And then I would have figured out a resource in town that could provide her with medical care without insurance. And, hopefully, I could have found a place that would provide even a temporary home for her (and the baby) and hope for a way out of poverty.
Maybe it would have taken the whole day. But if there's one thing I have to give right now during this season of unemployment, it's time.
It's easy for me to care and cry about my brothers and sisters overseas, and yet I am so quick to turn away from the ones who need love that are in my own backyard. Starting today, I am working to change this. There but for the grace of God go I.
"If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him? Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth. This then is how we know that we belong to the truth, and how we set our hearts at rest in his presence whenever our hearts condemn us. For God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything." 1 John 3:17-20
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