Is Someone Trying To Tell Me Something?

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We live in a land of plenty. We also live in our own world. By that I mean, we live to ourselves and for ourselves. We only choose the people we want to associate with to create our own world.

Several years ago, around Thanksgiving time, a lady in our church stood up and announced that a local charity group had two dozen food baskets ready to give to needy families. She said to come and see her after church if we knew of a family in need.

I searched my heart, but could not think of anyone in need. I simply did not know any family in need. How sad. In my cute little world there are no poor people. In my selfish little cocoon there are no dire needs. I even get into a mental tirade about that there are no needy people in this great country of plenty. All these so-called needy folks are just a bunch of piglets sucking on the government sow.

What a wretched man I am.

I recently followed an older lady at the meat counter in the grocery store. She had very little in her cart. She kept on picking up small packages of meat, looked at the price and then placed them back in the rack. I saw her later pushing her cart through the isle with no meat in her cart. It wasn't until the woman went around the corner and out of sight, that a strong conviction pulled at my heart and asked, "Why didn't you give the old lady a twenty dollar bill so she could buy herself some meat?" You know what, even after that conviction I didn't search for her in the store to do what the Spirit told me to do.

My wife and I were behind a young couple at the Walmart checkout. They had bought a few groceries and were in the process of paying for them. The cashier patiently waited for the young lady as she dug in her pocketbook for a few more small coins to make the total owed. She dug and dug, having already doled out the last dollar bill. I started to become impatient. Then, she finally found the few pennies, in the bottom of her purse to make the total. Again, after the young couple had pushed their cart out the door, my wife and I looked at each other and both said the same thing, "Why didn't we give them a five or a twenty?" They were obviously broke. I mean broke; without cash.

How many more times will the Lord have to smack us, me, before we learn to love people outside of our circles. To see beyond our own little world that there are people struggling. To see that my plenty that the Lord gave me doesn't flow on its own to someone in need.


Carol and I have seen, and been among abject poverty on other countries. Our willingness to share in those places often includes our last dollar.

Let me tell you this true story.
There is one face of a boy that will never leave my mind. I see that face often in my time alone.

It was in Cusco, Peru. After two weeks in the jungle on a mission to build a church, our group took a break and became tourists. The group was led to an exclusive restaurant for a lavish meal. As we entered the establishment, a boy, about eight years old, stood at the door, looked me straight in the eyes, and pointed at his open mouth. The boy, obviously hungry, knew we were foreigners. He knew we came to get fed. He knew there would be plenty of food eaten and plenty left over. We ate for more than an hour. We listened to local music and singing for more than another hour. All full and smiles, we finally left the restaurant. When I got to the entrance door to get out, there still stood the boy, imploring my eyes to see if I brought him some morsel to eat. I hadn't. I forgot. What a wretched man I am.

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