Across the street from my hostel in Tirana is a bakery.
Ever since arriving in Albania about three weeks ago, I have made a daily appearance at that bakery to get my breakfast – pastries for breakfast, naturally.
The other morning was no different.
We leisurely wandered out of our hostel and across the street, pondering what this morning’s breakfast would look like – would I choose the flaky, soft, goat cheese-filled pastry, or the chocolate-filled croissant?
After arriving at the bakery and making the difficult life choice of “what to eat for breakfast”, I stood in line waiting to order.
Just as I was about to ask for two of the scrumptious goat cheese pastries, a stooped elderly woman came shuffling through the door with an outstretched hand.
Her words came out quickly, and even though I could not understand a word she said, I knew she was asking for money.
Instead of giving her money, I ordered three pastries instead of two, paid the cashier, turned around, and with a smile I handed the elderly lady the pastry.
She took it, put it in her pocket, and continued to chatter away in Albanian.
Then, right at my moment of inner satisfaction, she once again reached out her hands and began asking for money.
Wait… What, I just bought you food! And you’re still asking me for my money?
My mind just couldn’t wrap around it.
And I continued to be vexed throughout the remainder of the day.
It wasn’t until I was wandering down the street with two of my teammates after it was dark that evening that it finally hit me: my pride.
I had a bruised ego.
The woman didn’t receive my gift to her in the way I was “used to” or in the way that I had expected and that hit me right in the pride.
Photo cred: LaShon Gordon
When we do “good things” for people, without even realizing it, we expect thanks.
We’re conditioned to display gratefulness in some form when we receive a gift or an act of kindness from someone.
So when I offered that pastry to the begging woman and I didn’t even get a smile of thanks out of the deal, my North-American mind could not even fathom it.
It really made me stop and take a look at myself.
The question I asked myself was, if I never received one ounce of gratefulness or thanks from the people I help or serve this year on the World Race, would that stop me from desiring to serve them and love them anyway?
Would that take away from my wanting to go and share Jesus with them?
I realized that in a small way, I expected recognition for my kindness.
Then I realized how wrong and twisted that is.
These people that I’m choosing to serve this year deserve my time and my love, regardless if they ever thank me in return.
I’m not loving them because I expect something from them – I’m loving them, serving them, investing my time in them because 2000 years ago, Jesus died on the cross to take the weight of the world off of my shoulders.
He didn’t have to. But He did anyway.
Want to know why?
Because He is so desperately, faithfully in love with me.
And because I’m a selfish, ungrateful human being, He also never expected thanks from me.
Jesus did all this for me, yet still doesn’t expect thanksgiving from me.
Even when I forget to thank Him for His loving faithfulness, He still pours out unending blessings.
That is the kind of person I desire to be.
Rather than expecting thanks for my “kind actions” to other people, I yearn to be the person who continues to pour into people even when I don’t receive that thanks.
The kind of person who looks like Jesus.
