One of my favorite things to do when I come home from a mission trip is to sit down and talk with people about my experiences. I share about the minimal living situations, poverty, and lack of resources that other people have. It’s often incredibly shocking to people to try and imagine how these people are living. It was when I first experienced it as well! After sharing these things with people, one of the statements I often hear is:

“Man, aren’t we privileged?!”

It’s always well meaning people. People that see the way that others live and they take a second to be thankful for what we have. They’re thankful for our comfy beds, warm houses, functioning cars, and fitted clothes. And rightly so! We, as Americans, are blessed beyond what we could ever possibly fathom. 

But it shouldn’t stop there. Our thankfulness and gratitude for the things we’ve been given should be so much more than flighty emotions. They should be emotions that are catalysts. Things that spur us on to DO something in the world. 

When I’m asked about how blessed I feel to be living in America, it often leaves me stumped. The question feels almost ridiculous to me. Because, yes, I’m incredibly thankful. But more than anything, I’m empowered. I’m frustrated by the incredible gap between these two worlds and I’m ready to advocate for those who don’t have as much. I recognize the things I’ve been given as a blessing that should be turned into a resource. I recognize these things that I’ve been given as an opportunity to bless others. 

I am a huge advocate for short term mission trips because of the world view that it allows people to have. But if it stops at being grateful for a big bed and hot coffee, we’ve totally missed the point. There needs to be action that follows. 

So, when you think about the life we live compared to those less fortunate, what does it spur you to do? What injustice has been burned into your heart? Maybe it’s your own experience or someone else’s story. Maybe it’s in the local community or in a totally different country. But what are you going to do about it? 

1 Samuel 2:7 “The Lord sends poverty and wealth; he humbles and he exalts.”

Yikes. I read this recently and I stopped in the middle of the paragraph. I found myself quite frustrated.

How could He? Why would He dare bring such injustice to these people that He claims to love? I know many women that are choosing to sell their bodies into the sex trade because of poverty. I know men with slight disabilities that are forced into poverty because they don’t have any options to provide for themselves besides begging. I know children that have accepted hunger as the daily norm. And this is what the Father sends to them?

These are the things that break my heart. These are the things that keep me fighting for goodness in this world. It doesn’t seem fair that the Father would choose to send these things to people.

But then I think about these people that I know. These men, women, and children that, in my view, seem diseased by poverty. I think of their faces. I can only ever picture them with the biggest, most genuine smiles. I see hardworking families that love each other deeply. I think of women that have come out of the sex trade and they know the love of the Father with a depth that I can’t even comprehend because they’ve seen the other forms of tainted love.

The Bible tells us to care for the orphans, widows, and poor. It foreshadowed all that was to come. Jesus knew that the wealth gap would increasingly grow. He prophesied it, preached instruction to us, and invited us into being a part of His vision for His people.

In my frustration towards the Lord, I kept reading. 1 Samuel 2:8 “He raises the poor from the dust and lifts the needy from the ash heap; he seats them with princes and has them inherit a throne of honor.”

Maybe he uses these things to let us recognize the value of the throne of honor that He is entrusting us with. Although it says that He sends poverty, He also sends freedom from poverty. And I don’t think that necessarily means loads of money. I think freedom from poverty can be the breaking of the bondage that comes along with poverty. The Father raising the poor from the dust could mean giving them a hope and a future. A reason to keep living.

On this side of the world

I hop in my car every time I have a desire to go somewhere.

On the other side of the world

They are lucky if they’re able to afford a bus to decrease their walking time.

On this side of the world

I ask for more flavoring in my sweet coffee when it isn’t specific to my liking.

On the other side of the world

They split a packet of instant coffee between whole families – savoring each sip.

On this side of the world

I go to bed excited for options of fun colored boxes of cereal I will get to choose from when I wake.

On the other side of the world

They wonder “will there be enough for another day?”

On this side of the world

I discard t-shirts; frustrated by the overflow that consumes my closet.

On the other side of the world

They dig through piles of trash hoping to find some warmth to cover their bodies.

On the side of the world

I go to the doctor to fix minimal annoyances.

On the other side of the world

They sell their bodies in an effort to provide money enough for insulin for their mother’s diabetes.

On this side of the world

I dance freely – delighting in the ridiculousness of being unashamed.

On the other side of the world

The idea of dancing is tainted because it’s used as a way to make money.

On this side of the world

I live in luxury.

On the other side of the world

They live with just enough. Praying that it comes in time.

On this side of the world

I live in ignorance – thinking that this is the way that it is.

On the other side of the world

They are praying for a life like that of an American.

“Sometimes people use black on paintings to create depth, but unless they create their own black, it ends up looking flat.”

As we wandered around the alleys of an art gallery in small town Wisconsin, my sweet friend, Lexi, spoke of her knowledge of art while allowing the Holy Spirit to work cool things in my heart. She spoke of black. She spoke the way people use it to convey depth, but the painting often ends up looking flat. She said that the way to create true, genuine, depth is by using colors similar to black, but layering them in a way that’s personal. Speckles of purple. Strokes of dark red. Accents of brown. Artists need to create a form of black that fits with the fullness of the painting.

Depth and vulnerability are touchy subjects. Some people believe that the only way to vulnerability is sharing your deepest sins and desires. Others believe that they’re taboo and that they should never even be thought about.

I like to consider my beliefs to be somewhere in the middle. I believe that vulnerability can look different for everyone. For some it’s sharing their stories. For others it’s doing art. For others still it’s singing boldly. But you can’t borrow someone else’s black. You can’t fake vulnerability. Any amateur art critic can notice the lack of depth when you use something that wasn’t made for you.

Whatever it looks like for you, recognize it and fight it. Do the thing that’s scary. Paint something messy. Climb something new. Sing something out of your range. And if you fail, so be it! It’s a risk worth taking. Because becoming yourself is a beautiful process. It’s something worth trading for the world.