I am poor and needy

I sliced my finger right over the knuckle a couple of weeks ago.  Had it bandaged up good, after some    super glue, since stitches aren’t the greatest option around here.  So my ring finger protruded into the air flat, while the rest of the fingers tried to compensate, and it was obvious I had injured my hand.  No big deal—it wasn’t painful and only a minor inconvenience.

I was standing outside our only main grocery store in town.  I met an old friend who usually hangs out outside, watching people’s cars for them to earn a little money.  He is a Christian and it was a nice time to catch up.  He asked about my hand, and when I told him what had happened, he was so, so sorry for me.  I could see in his eyes that he genuinely felt compassion for me and my finger. 

Which was remarkable, considering he was standing on one leg with the other pant tied up to the knee.  He lost his other leg when he was little after being bitten by a snake and getting an infection.  So for about 36 years now he has had one good leg to use. He rides a special handicap bicycle, tries to make ends meet for himself and his wife and two babies.  His compassion taught me how little I actually have.

 

I have been thinking about these bits of wisdom in Galatians 2:10 when Paul and Barnabas head to the Gentiles, the others to the Jews, “All they asked was that we should continue to remember the poor, the very thing I was eager to do.”  They were being sent out with the Gospel, and remembering the poor was of utmost importance to all of them.  In fact, Paul was eager to remember them.  I bet he even went out of his way to find them.

Before we left Africa a year and a half ago, I had been convicted to not walk by the poor without giving them something.  I don’t necessarily mean money; sometimes money is actually the easiest thing to give.  But I challenged myself to at least look them in the eyes and smile.  Or better still, give them my time.  I wanted them to know they are loved whether or not I give them money.  I wanted to get past my own arrogance of thinking I know what everyone’s “racket” is…the little street boys managed by the older street boys, who turn the money into drugs of one kind or another.  Then there are the mamas who sit on the streets,  parts of their bodies missing from leprosy or other infection.There are so many of them, and I don’t ignore them because I think they have a racket, I ignore them because my heart can’t bear to think about what kind of life they have day in and day out.  Not that my ignoring them makes their lives any better.

Peter and John, when they went into the temple and walked past the lame man, they looked at him.  And I bet if they didn’t heal him, they still would have looked, listened. 

The least I can do is look, smile.

But last week I didn’t look, and someone was coming up to the car again and I didn’t have money ready and I didn’t want them to be hopeful that I did.  Dave got some money out, handed it to me and when I opened the window to hand it to the person, I was faced with a man whose entire face had been completely burned.  He had sunglasses on, no doubt to protect and hide his eyes. His teeth came out at jagged angles and he had to take the money from my hand with both smooth stubs of what used to be arms before they were burnt off.  “God bless you,” as tears formed, was all I had time for before the line of cars moved us along, and he did his best to smile and he blessed me back.  It doesn’t seem fair that I should be so blessed, and he should be so…what looks like not blessed.

Yet I am poor and needy; may the Lord think of me.  

You are my help and my deliverer; O my God, do not delay. Ps. 40:17

Deliver me from my foolishness and from the temporary.  Fix my eyes on the eternal.

Listen, my dear brothers: Has not God chosen those who are poor in the eyes of the world to be rich in faith and to inherit the kingdom he promised those who love him?

James 2:5

Yes, He has.  And if I had a proper view of poverty, I would not reduce it to material possessions and forget how impoverished my own faith and character can be.

Who is wise and understanding among you?  

Let him show it by his good life,

  by deeds done in the humility that comes from wisdom. James 3:13

Always learning...

the end of our trip...Kate still looking chipper!

I learned something new today.  Neema came to visit, presenting me with a bright orange wrap stamped heartily with zebras.  In stark contrast to “what did you bring me from America?,” Neema used all the profit she might make on the other cloth she had with her, to buy me that special gift.  She came way out of her way to welcome us back.  We shared mutual joy over a cup of chai.

That is not what I learned.  As she was leaving, I asked her if she needed to use the bathroom before she headed back into town.  “yes,” she graciously replied.  Dave gently mentioned that maybe I shouldn’t have asked it that way.  He said it is better to ask if you want to greet your aunt and everyone would know what you meant.  This had me laughing already when we probed Neema for what might be a better way to ask that sensitive question.

“Well, you might want to ask instead if they want to dig up medicine (natural medicine; roots). 

Or visit the post office. 

Or make a phone call.”

And they would know what I meant? 

“Probably.”

My first lesson back.  How little I know!

Returning has been a sweet wonder.  I see things that I had grown accustomed to.  The streets have gotten so narrow!  The signs on the public vans are humorous.  I ache again for the man “walking” on his knees with a stick, and the street boy digging in the gutter for a treasure.  My heart is stirred by the cheerful welcome of the market ladies I love, even if it’s just because I buy so many tomatoes. J  There is so much dust, on everything, and mopping is ever so much more rewarding.  And my girls curtsy and greet the respectful greeting, and life seems rich and full as we wade again into this culture. 

“In Him we live, and move, and have our being.”

And the whole earth is full of His glory. 

I’m marveling at His glory here with fresh, thankful eyes.