Changing the World
As I was working construction at a remote village this week, a lady approached me one day with a letter in her hand. She began speaking rapidly in spanish with a sense of urgency and importance, so I stopped shoveling and directed her to Eliud, our translator. I watched their conversation as she handed him the letter and he stuffed it in his pocket.
After she left, I asked Eliud about the exchange. "What did she give you?" I asked. "These are letters of request," he answered as he reached into his pocket and pulled out handfuls of crumbled notebook paper. There had to be more than a dozen handwritten notes, each one asking us for help. When Americans come to a neighborhood to build houses, word gets around fast. And so the requests come.
At the end of the day, I went with Eliud to look at two houses of families that had written us requests. What I saw took my breath away. A 10x6 foot house made of four wooden corner posts wrapped in plastic bags for the walls. A kitchen stove in one corner filled the closet-sized house with smoke. A rotten log held a tarp on top of the shack. One wooden bed slept a family of three for eight years. A baby slept in a hanging hammock made of a plastic sack, the kind they use to ship beans and rice.
It was all I could do to keep from crying right there in front of the family, but I had to be strong. These people see us as the answer to their prayers. They believe that God has sent us to help them. All I could think about was that little girl who lived in a smokey shack and slept on a wooden board for all eight years of her life. All I could picture were the handfuls of letters that Eliud pulled out of his pocket.
So many letters. So many requests. So many needs.
My heart broke hard and fast because I knew we would not be able to answer every request with a "yes". That's what Benny says is the hardest part about being a missionary: knowing when to say "yes" and when to say "no".
I thought and prayed to myself all the way back to the mission, and when I arrived, Maria and Angelita noticed the sadness that I was trying to hide. Maria wrapped her arms around me as I wept. "Oh Maria, there are so many many people in such poverty. I want to help them all, but just I can't." Her arms around me comforted my aching heart. "No you can't," she said. "But you are doing the best you can with such a big heart." Angelita then reminded me that even though there is poverty in the world, there is also always Christ, and He is available to everyone to be their strength and fortress.
In my brokenheartedness, when I felt so hopeless and inadequate, God reminded me of another moment I experienced that day. We had almost completed the house, and as we left the construction site, the whole family was there to say goodbye. With tears in his eyes, the father of the house praised God and thanked us for what we had done for him and his family. "I promise I will take care of this house and do my best to provide for my family because I know this is a gift from God. He sent you to help us and answer our prayers."
I want so badly to change the whole world. I want to get rid of poverty so that children don't have to breathe smoke while sleeping and babies don't have to nap in a plastic bag. I want everyone to stay dry when it rains. I want everyone to know the way to God through Christ. I just want to change the whole world, and that's why my heart breaks at such extreme poverty as I saw that day.
But Benny reminds us that we cannot change the whole world. We can only change the one right in front of us. And that day, we changed the world for that one family. We changed Angelita's world when we finished her house on Friday. We change a child's world when we tell them a story from the Bible for the very first time. We change a world when we hand a bag of baby supplies to a mother with her first newborn baby.
The world is broken and full of hurt, so let those things that break God's heart break yours also. But at the same time, remember the words of Psalm 71:14-16.
As for me, I will always have hope;
I will praise you more and more.
My mouth will tell of your righteous deeds,
of your saving acts all day long—
though I know not how to relate them all.
I will come and proclaim your mighty acts, Sovereign LORD;
I will proclaim your righteous deeds, yours alone.
God is still sovereign, and He is still worthy of praise. In Him I put my hope. As Angeltia so gently reminded me, faith is simple - just remember that there is always Christ in the midst of poverty and hopelessness. So I surrender this broken heart to Him, commiting to do the most I can to change the world in front of me and trusting Him with the rest.
After she left, I asked Eliud about the exchange. "What did she give you?" I asked. "These are letters of request," he answered as he reached into his pocket and pulled out handfuls of crumbled notebook paper. There had to be more than a dozen handwritten notes, each one asking us for help. When Americans come to a neighborhood to build houses, word gets around fast. And so the requests come.
At the end of the day, I went with Eliud to look at two houses of families that had written us requests. What I saw took my breath away. A 10x6 foot house made of four wooden corner posts wrapped in plastic bags for the walls. A kitchen stove in one corner filled the closet-sized house with smoke. A rotten log held a tarp on top of the shack. One wooden bed slept a family of three for eight years. A baby slept in a hanging hammock made of a plastic sack, the kind they use to ship beans and rice.
It was all I could do to keep from crying right there in front of the family, but I had to be strong. These people see us as the answer to their prayers. They believe that God has sent us to help them. All I could think about was that little girl who lived in a smokey shack and slept on a wooden board for all eight years of her life. All I could picture were the handfuls of letters that Eliud pulled out of his pocket.
So many letters. So many requests. So many needs.
My heart broke hard and fast because I knew we would not be able to answer every request with a "yes". That's what Benny says is the hardest part about being a missionary: knowing when to say "yes" and when to say "no".
I thought and prayed to myself all the way back to the mission, and when I arrived, Maria and Angelita noticed the sadness that I was trying to hide. Maria wrapped her arms around me as I wept. "Oh Maria, there are so many many people in such poverty. I want to help them all, but just I can't." Her arms around me comforted my aching heart. "No you can't," she said. "But you are doing the best you can with such a big heart." Angelita then reminded me that even though there is poverty in the world, there is also always Christ, and He is available to everyone to be their strength and fortress.
In my brokenheartedness, when I felt so hopeless and inadequate, God reminded me of another moment I experienced that day. We had almost completed the house, and as we left the construction site, the whole family was there to say goodbye. With tears in his eyes, the father of the house praised God and thanked us for what we had done for him and his family. "I promise I will take care of this house and do my best to provide for my family because I know this is a gift from God. He sent you to help us and answer our prayers."
I want so badly to change the whole world. I want to get rid of poverty so that children don't have to breathe smoke while sleeping and babies don't have to nap in a plastic bag. I want everyone to stay dry when it rains. I want everyone to know the way to God through Christ. I just want to change the whole world, and that's why my heart breaks at such extreme poverty as I saw that day.
But Benny reminds us that we cannot change the whole world. We can only change the one right in front of us. And that day, we changed the world for that one family. We changed Angelita's world when we finished her house on Friday. We change a child's world when we tell them a story from the Bible for the very first time. We change a world when we hand a bag of baby supplies to a mother with her first newborn baby.
The world is broken and full of hurt, so let those things that break God's heart break yours also. But at the same time, remember the words of Psalm 71:14-16.
As for me, I will always have hope;
I will praise you more and more.
My mouth will tell of your righteous deeds,
of your saving acts all day long—
though I know not how to relate them all.
I will come and proclaim your mighty acts, Sovereign LORD;
I will proclaim your righteous deeds, yours alone.
God is still sovereign, and He is still worthy of praise. In Him I put my hope. As Angeltia so gently reminded me, faith is simple - just remember that there is always Christ in the midst of poverty and hopelessness. So I surrender this broken heart to Him, commiting to do the most I can to change the world in front of me and trusting Him with the rest.
Every year that I taught school, my mother reminded me that I couldn't "save them all." She told me to "choose just one" which often broke my heart. I can honestly say that I know God "picked" which ones I needed to help the most. You are a wise young woman and, God will use you to bless many, many, many lives throughout your years! Trust me...trust Him with the rest. He will supply their every need...remember the manna! Think of the song, The Blessing by John Waller:
ReplyDeleteLet it be said of us
That we gave to reach the dying
Let it be said of us
By the fruit we leave behind
Let it be said of us
That our legacy is blessing for life
You are a blessing...Love, Your Old 2nd Grade Teacher :)