Most of us understand the feeling of seeing or being met by a homeless person who wants something from us. You know the drill- become stoic, look away, pretend you have something of great importance on your sleeve or on the passenger seat of your car, pass by as if he or she isn't there, and (if all this fails to deter), just say "no." You know.
Oh, we have our reasons and justifications for not parting with our stuff just because they don't have stuff. And some of those reasons may be...well, reasonable. But did you ever consider that sometimes you need to respond- not just for their sakes, but for YOURS?
Case in point: M
y family and I lived in the Philippines, the last six years in the mountain city of Baguio. It's a beautiful city, cool and often rainy, with a dampness that penetrates to your bones. You know the kind of dampness I'm talking about. One day as my wife Liz and I are leaving the market, we see a man sitting against a wall with a cup in front of him, begging for change. Actually, he is not doing anything, as his head is down between his knees, he looks as if he is mentally impaired (there's a fair amount of Baguio beggars like that), his bony body shivering.
As we pass by, Liz looked at him, then at me, and said, "I have to buy him a blanket." I agreed, although I reminded her that he would probably not have that blanket tomorrow, as his handlers (those who house many like him, taking the money they make as they provide room and board in return), would undoubtedly take it from him if no one else did first. "That's okay," she said. "I need to do it."
We doubled back to the market, purchased a locally woven blanket, and then proceeded to drape it around the quaking shoulders of this shell of a man. As we did so, I could feel the glare of those passing by, people snickering at us for being so "foolish," telling each other that the puraos (whites) were wasting money for something that would so quickly disappear. Sure enough, the next day the man was there at his post, curled up, quivering in the cold with his beggar's cup...and no blanket.
We could have considered our act of compassion to be a waste of time and money-
except for one thing. God had impressed upon Liz's heart to give, and in that moment she responded to His prompting. She recognized that sometimes the call to share is not only for the recipient but also for the giver. She knew that each time God moves our hearts to act in love and we refuse, our hearts become a little harder- and less apt to respond the next time. And she did not (and does not) want a hardened heart before the Lord. So she gave, not just because a man was cold, but also because she did not want to become cold.
I know there are those always asking, always taking, always expecting something from us. We won't give to everyone. We probably can't. But we can ask God to keep our hearts soft, our grips loose, and our eyes focused on the needs of those around us.
Not only for them, but for our own souls as well.
Case in point: M
y family and I lived in the Philippines, the last six years in the mountain city of Baguio. It's a beautiful city, cool and often rainy, with a dampness that penetrates to your bones. You know the kind of dampness I'm talking about. One day as my wife Liz and I are leaving the market, we see a man sitting against a wall with a cup in front of him, begging for change. Actually, he is not doing anything, as his head is down between his knees, he looks as if he is mentally impaired (there's a fair amount of Baguio beggars like that), his bony body shivering.As we pass by, Liz looked at him, then at me, and said, "I have to buy him a blanket." I agreed, although I reminded her that he would probably not have that blanket tomorrow, as his handlers (those who house many like him, taking the money they make as they provide room and board in return), would undoubtedly take it from him if no one else did first. "That's okay," she said. "I need to do it."
We doubled back to the market, purchased a locally woven blanket, and then proceeded to drape it around the quaking shoulders of this shell of a man. As we did so, I could feel the glare of those passing by, people snickering at us for being so "foolish," telling each other that the puraos (whites) were wasting money for something that would so quickly disappear. Sure enough, the next day the man was there at his post, curled up, quivering in the cold with his beggar's cup...and no blanket.
We could have considered our act of compassion to be a waste of time and money-
except for one thing. God had impressed upon Liz's heart to give, and in that moment she responded to His prompting. She recognized that sometimes the call to share is not only for the recipient but also for the giver. She knew that each time God moves our hearts to act in love and we refuse, our hearts become a little harder- and less apt to respond the next time. And she did not (and does not) want a hardened heart before the Lord. So she gave, not just because a man was cold, but also because she did not want to become cold.I know there are those always asking, always taking, always expecting something from us. We won't give to everyone. We probably can't. But we can ask God to keep our hearts soft, our grips loose, and our eyes focused on the needs of those around us.
Not only for them, but for our own souls as well.
No comments:
Post a Comment