28.9.18
“If someone has enough money to live well and sees a brother or sister in need but shows no compassion—how can God’s love be in that person.”
1 John 3:17
I remember once, walking through the center of town in Tallinn. It was a beautiful day. The sun was just starting to lower, painting the city in a gentle golden hue. I took deep breaths trying to soak in the peaceful Tuesday atmosphere. Its was around six o’clock. Everyone was leaving work to go home to their families, kids were rushing to catch the buses after their afternoon classes. It was a simple day that suited the word “lovely” just perfectly. It was one of those moments that makes you feel so grateful for all the little, beautiful normalcies in life: family, friends, work, food, a place or places to call home. My little world seemed sweet and perfect.
But suddenly a horrible noise sliced through my thoughts like a knife. It was the sound of coughing, if you could call it that… I turned around to see where it was coming, and there sat a man on the ground surrounded by bundles of trash he would probably call his home. His filthy clothes clung to his battered skin; his face contorted with years of abuse. But, what broke me was when I noticed the pile of cigaret butts that laid in front of him. I want to say that there was at least a hundred, but maybe my mind is exaggerating. They all seemed fresh. And as he sat there in his burning heap of half smoked cigarettes, hacking his lungs out, he raised another cigarette to his mouth, shaking and almost convulsing, in some desperate attempt to ease his pain, and bring some degree of peace to his broken state.
I was paralyzed. I felt like I couldn’t move. My eyes welled up with tears and my throat tightened.
“Hey!” Was the greeting of my friend as he turned the corner and almost ran into me. I scrambled to collect myself and try to step back into the “normal” world again. “Hi” I reply coughing to clear my throat.
As we walked together and I tried to refocus my thoughts, but the picture of that man, surrounded by so much pain, heartache, anxiety, and sickness would not be shaken from my mind. He sat there, I stood there, the world went by as normal, and we both felt so helpless. How could I help? I’m just me. It could be dangerous. But he’s practically dying. Maybe he just needed some water. Maybe some food and someone to smile at him. Is it wise to do it alone? But I can’t help everyone. So who do I help? He probably made so many bad choices in his life to get him there in the first place. But would he have made them if he knew how much he was loved? So many thoughts flooded my head. So many questions. And to be honest, I don’t know all the answers. But one thing I do know, God’s heart is that we would be open to help and serve anyone that He puts in our path.
Growing up with my parents I learned so much about what “giving” means. We were never rich, but that never stopped them from inviting people to live with us, whether it be a family who needs rest, a guy right out of prison, college students volunteering at the church or recovering alcoholics- or everyone at the same time, haha. Not to mention my friends who lived with us most weekends. Our house was always full of fun, colorful people of all different kinds of backgrounds! They opened their doors, gave of their time and resources and made everyone feel loved and at home. Honestly looking back I don’t know how God provided it all! But He is so faithful to take care of all the needs of the “cheerful givers”.
Its definitely a different set up when you’re in a family situation. And I’m not about to start inviting ex-convicts to live with me, but I definitely want to have the same heart in my personal situation. I don’t want to fall in sync with the rest of the world and spend my days walking by people without hope when I have so much! How can I be stingy with my things, my time when I myself have been so blessed by others? I want to honor God in all I have, in all He’s given me.
Jesus wasn’t afraid of the dirty, the homeless, the sick, the broken. When He came to earth, that was essentially God rolling up his sleeves to get His holy hands dirty from the messiness of our lives; to have them pierced, so we could have the hope of Heaven and proof of His love. He came to walk through the trenches of life with us, to feel our pain and to share our joy. His love for people was bigger than any of their messes, mine included.
I want to be more like that. I want God’s love to be in me. I’ve seen a lot of homeless, a lot of broken people; I’m not sure why this man stood out to me so much in that moment. But I’ll always be grateful for the way it popped my bubble and broke my heart and reminded of God’s love and my responsibility to live it out.
“Freely you have received, freely give.” (Matthew 10:8)