Out of Africa

I recently went to Africa for a mission trip.  It was a desire to go and serve and offer help to those in need.  A couple years ago I went to Honduras for the same reason.  God has been good to me and He calls us to serve others and so I went.   I may have accomplished some small things while there, but when I left, they were still hungry and poor.  There were still major third world problems that were not solved.  Realistically,  all I can offer in way of aid are my hands and feet, maybe a little money, and most importantly, prayer; for prayer can move mountains and console the poor in spirit.  But something clicked in Africa and upon my return, I have been reflecting about what I have seen and known in my own life. 

Zambian village women

I have observed that there is a sort of disconnect in the way we think about helping others.  More often than not, we participate in helping others as a special occasion rather than an extension of our every day.  We establish our willingness to help on merit, by deciding who is worthy, and who is deserving of our precious time and talent.  I began to wonder why we think we need to travel across the globe to help the poor and unfortunate.   I noticed how we willingly go and “live” in conditions that are less than ideal, to work and serve alongside people in need where they are.  We are more gracious, compassionate, we have a new respect and empathy because we have experienced what others are experiencing for a brief time.   Then we come home and after a couple weeks, slip back into our normal way of life, the lessons we learned still inside, but now buried by other distractions.  

 

Lusaka road vendor

I began to wonder why it seems traveling elsewhere is the way to make a difference in the world, when right here in our own backyard live millions of poor and needy?  Maybe we know too much about our own poor.  We see news story upon news story of the effects of poverty, and we think “those people” deserve their circumstance rather than thinking, “but for the grace of God there go I”.  Maybe we don’t stop to think that each poor person has a series of experiences that has molded their world view, their decision-making capabilities, their own insecurities.  Maybe we understand deep down, that the problems of poverty are too overwhelming for us to fix on our own.   Maybe as a kind of way to avoid feeling paralyzed by the size of need, we distract ourselves with judgements and rationalizations.  I have seen, more often than not, that the poor in America are held in disdain, contempt, are unseen, and ignored….and worst of all, feared. 

I have seen it first hand, I have experienced it in my own life.  I grew up with a paranoid schizophrenic father and we did not have a lot of money or normal stability.  We lived in a shabby house and we had a lot of challenges and obstacles.  My family experienced prejudice and judgement and we endured whispers and stares. I had a lot of shame as a child, and while I may not have had what most Americans would consider a wealthy existence, I can look back now and say I was very rich and I would not change a thing.  The one precious possession I had was hope.  Hope, I believe is the answer, and we all have the ability to offer it to others right where we are. 

My parents had hope, along with a deep faith in the providence of God and a quiet obedience to His will for their lives, even when His will seemed so unfair.  They gave me the richest of gifts in the way that they raised me.  They raised me with the knowledge of what was really important in this life.  My mother taught me loyalty, love, and empathy.  My father taught me faith, perseverance, and honor.  They raised me to see people for who they are, not how they look.  To treat others as you would have them treat you.  And to love others as Jesus has loved us, in our poor sickly condition, because we are all poor and sick in some way.

We can all be considered physically poor.  Our bodies are deteriorating and dying every second and all the money and material possessions cannot stop that.  The best medical care cannot change the time of your death.  It is all ordained by our Creator, who numbers our days and knits each of us in the womb; just as it says in Job 14:1-2, 5:  Mortals, born of woman, are of few days and full of trouble.  They spring up like flowers and wither away; like fleeting shadows, they do not endure.  A person’s days are determined;    You have decreed the number of his months   and have set limits he cannot exceed.  And Psalm 139:13, 16: For you created my inmost being;  You knit me together in my mother’s womb. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in Your book   before one of them came to be.

 

Zambian village children

We can all be considered spiritually needy.  We are all in different stages of growth and maturation.  We know inherently that growth can be painful.  It occurs when you no longer fit in your situation and you must enlarge your mindset.   It arises from looking beyond the immediate circumstance and out of self, developing patience and persistence.  Maturity happens when we submit to the situation and recognize that we do not have control, just the illusion of it.  It is leaning into the pain and growing from it not avoiding and running from it.  It is recognizing that there is a higher purpose and power at work and we are all part of the plan.  There is no “me”, “we” and “they” in God’s design.

Street vendor, Lusaka, Zambia

So how does all this and lessons learned in Africa translate now that I’m home and back in my life? And what is my life now anyway? I am in a place where my career as a mother is now part-time at best.  But those years of staying home and raising my kids have helped me find my new niche.  I love to drive and I have years of experience and God graciously gave me the best job in the world, second to being a stay-at-home mom.  

I am a courier and I mostly do medical deliveries to and from area hospitals.  Once in a while I deliver prescriptions from an area hospital to individual’s homes.  Sometimes I get orders to deliver in some of the more dangerous and worst areas of St Louis.  Before going to Africa when I would find myself in these neighborhoods, I would be kind of fearful and even judgmental.  These are the same neighborhoods that appear on the news; the neighborhoods of drive-by shootings, fires, ghetto homes, and gang violence.  I would have never set foot in them if I was not required. 

Before Africa, when I would make a call to one of these homes, I admit, I would knock on the door furtively look around, half afraid I will be caught in some kind of crossfire while waiting for an answer, hand off the prescription as quickly as possible and leave.  The lessons about loving people, that my parents taught me, would take a backseat to the lessons of self preservation and prejudice that the news, the movies, the books try to teach us about those who live in the impoverished areas of America.  But as I said, I have a new outlook and I decided to have the same attitude I had in the dangerous areas in Africa and Central America.  That of kindness, love, and the hope to make a difference in every life my path crosses.  I decided to ignore the foul language, the foul smells, the foul surroundings and see the individual.

 

Wellston, internet photo

I have found, that those who open the door are people like those across the globe and they are people like me.  They have been created by a Creator for a purpose and they want to be seen, they want to be loved, they have hopes, they have dreams, they have sick bodies that need care, they are on their own personal journey through this life, just as I am.   I get to bring them the medication that makes their life bearable or is healing their body and they are happy to see me.  We exchange pleasantries and for a moment we are friends and have more in common than not.  And as I drive through these torn up neighborhoods and see the hopelessness and bleakness, I realize that the poor are in every country and our poor deserve the same respect and concern that the poor in third world countries deserve.

   

North St Louis, internet photo

As I have driven in these areas, and as I have spoken with these people, who are not that different from me,  I remember in Matthew 6:3, where Jesus says,  ^“But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing.”  And I begin to think what if Jesus is not just referring “the needy” that most tend to think of..those who are poor and destitute?  What if Jesus was referring to all of us.  If we are honest, we can agree we are all poor, we are all needy, we are all foul, and we are all sick in some aspect.  We may be poor in spirit, needy in time and attention, foul in attitude, sick of heart.  We are all human and share the trials of the human condition.  

Thankfully, this life is temporary and its poverty and suffering can be as such.  For when we recognize Jesus as our Savior we have a hope for a future, knowing this life is not the end, but the beginning.  We know from John 3:16-17, that "God so loved the world that he gave His only son, that whoever believes will have eternal life. For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him".

So rather than separating our everyday life from our mission trip life, what if we just lived missional and saw everyone as people in need.  I am not diminishing the fact that there are millions of physically and financially poor people in Africa, in America, in the world; and there are major problems that are difficult to solve.  We have millions of dollars in government programs and organizations trying to fix those very needs.   But what if we started in our own hearts and took Jesus’ advice?   

What if our right hand did not know what our left had was doing and we started “doing” in our life with all those that come in and out of our life whether they be family, friends, acquaintances or strangers?  What if what 2 Timothy 1:3-7 says, "...God our Savior, who wants all people to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth.  For there is one God and one mediator between God and mankind, the man Christ Jesus, who gave himself as a ransom for all people." is truth?   And if Jesus gave himself as a ransom for ALL people, then shouldn't we give compassion, love, and respect to ALL people as well?

If you think about it, we are all “those people” to someone.  People make judgements based on a whole list of things.  The way we talk, dress, where we live, the kind of car we drive, how attractive or unattractive we are.  So instead of judgements, we just offered our hands and hearts to those around us, not based on whether we determined they deserved it, but because they are created by a Creator that loves them as much as He loves you and me.  

What would happen if we treated everyone:  rich, poor, black, white, man, woman, child with love and respect first?  What if we acted as we do when we go into the far reaches of the world to share our love and offer hope.  What if we shared our love here?  What if we took the extra minute to really look at people and see them for who they are, a human being with hopes and dreams and fears?  What if we tried to encourage their hopes and dreams and alleviate their fears?  

It can start with just a quick silent prayer, that God might bless them and protect them through their day. And then a simple acknowledgement.  I challenge you to smile at every stranger and say “hi” or “have a good day”.  I will venture to guess that 9 out of 10 will smile back and offer the same.  And for a second we will have bridged the gap and touched another human for the good and that is a start. 

 

Zambian compound children

When we start to really see others as people like us, then change happens. Because once you see, you cannot unsee. And once you see, you understand need. And once you understand need, you can offer hope. If we all looked around us and offered our time and gifts where we are, maybe the whole world would change for the better. Maybe each act of kindness, each offer of help, each extension of love would send hope through the world like a pebble sends ripples through a still pond. I’d like to hope so anyway.