Humbled, again!

This balancing act of living with the poor—it never really goes away.  Fall off one side, and you’re drowning in a sea of guilt.  On the other side, the callousness that comes from being familiar, too familiar, with suffering and need. 

We were sitting in a restaurant in Mwanza, cool breezes coming off the lake, menu in hands waiting to order, when my Lisa got a text on her phone. 

“What should we order? Hmmmm…”

“Oh, this is humbling.  One of the pastors texted to see if we can help him out a little bit just until his harvest comes in.”

Yes, that is humbling.  Staring at the menu deciding, while our brother doesn’t have enough food for his family.

Dave and I had a (truly) spare bag of grain given by the government to every household in this area.  We thought maybe it would help the pastor out and sent it with Bill about a week later.

After church, he told Pastor Petro that he had something for him, opening the back of the car.  He pulled out the maize, Petro truly astonished.

 “When I left this morning to go preach, my wife told me that we had nothing left to eat.  She asked me what we were going to eat for lunch.  I told her that I didn’t know, but God would provide.  Then I went to preach.”

That was even more humbling.  Yes, God did a miracle for this dear pastor with six children, but what humbled me was that He did it with our excess.

Today’s message was about the rich young ruler.  The application was humbling along the same lines once again:  we are all richer than someone, we all have something to share.  This is a message preached to a congregation that really does live on probably a dollar a day.  And me. 

We have so much to share.

Lord, help my heart to be so filled with you that it spills out in all areas—my words, my actions, my generosity...