A few nights ago, two of my teammates and I sat at a local restaurant here in Vietnam, sipping on our drinks and talking about the many lessons Jesus is teaching each of us. From among the crowds of tourists and vendors, a frail woman emerged—a half naked baby straddling her hip. Two more children followed close behind, navigating the dangerous path between motos and cars. Dirty and clearly malnourished, their eyes were sunken and hopeless.
The young mother shook an empty baby bottle at us, begging, in words we couldn’t understand, for milk. She nodded to the baby at her hip, pleading with us to help her. Jenny, my darling teammate, looked at the bag of groceries she had just purchased, which now lay at our feet. “I bought some condensed milk,” she said, “Do you think that will work?”
Leah and I both nodded and Jenny pulled the small can from her bag and handed it to the woman. The two older children watched us carefully, their eyes now staring at the grocery bag as if it were a pot of gold. Fueled by desperation, but anchored by manners, they stood motionless, fixated on a baguette that was peaking out from beneath our table. Jenny then reached for yogurt and gave it to the woman, who immediately pulled back the tin and began feeding it to her three starving kids.
One of the older kids bent down and began pointing at the remaining food—his eyes brimming with desperation and need. Jenny and I stared at one another, both thinking the same thought. “Can we give her the baguette?” I asked. “I’ll pay you for it.”
My sweet teammate didn’t hesitate to hand everything she had to this woman, assuring me that she was glad to do it. Within moments the groceries were ripped open and strewn on the sidewalk and in the street. As the two older children clawed at the baguette, the baby tilted a yogurt cup anxiously, spilling half of the contents on her face and shirt. Jenny, remembering that she had purchased wet wipes, leapt up to show the mother and clean off the precious little girl’s face and shirt. I followed her and we were able to place the remaining groceries back into the bag and clean up the baby.
In that moment, as I stroked the hair of this tiny baby girl, I felt the Lord prod me to give this woman money—a request that I quickly answered with hesitation and well-rehearsed questions. After all, what if this woman used money to buy drugs or alcohol? What if the money I gave her was wasted or, worse, used to fuel a habit that would harm her family? What if this woman and her family, like many in this area, were enslaved by the local mafia, who forces the impoverished to beg? And, though these thoughts ran rampant through my mind, I approached her and handed her the amount I felt the Lord lay on my heart.
Her face brightened and she thanked me as best as she could. She told me she would use the money to buy her children pants—the baby girl and youngest boy weren’t wearing any. Jenny and I got up from the street as this sweet family left us. Onlookers who had gathered murmured to one another as she went.
When we sat back down, a moto-driver, who had witnessed the entire event, looked at us with disappointment. He gestured with his arm, insinuating that this woman was an addict. He refused to speak with us further in english, though we know that he speaks it well, and clearly did not approve of us helping this woman.
As we sat there for several moments afterward, a lie began to sink into my spirit. “You shouldn’t have given her that money. You are only going to harm her further. You are an enabler. How could you have done that?”
And, as these thoughts replayed again and again in my mind, the Lord posed a very simple question—one that He has asked before: “Does your obedience hinge on another’s actions?”
You see, I’ve had this internal argument many times in the past. I think it rages in most Christians today. We are told by the Bible to feed the hungry—to love and clothe them. We are commanded by our King to care for the least of these. But, we are also warned—time and time again by well-meaning Christians—that providing “these people” with money will only fuel their habits. It will “enable them,” harm them, enslave them, etc. We are commended for our “good hearts” and our “desire to give,” but, ultimately, chastised for our naivety about poverty and addictions.
Now, I’m not saying that this woman has no addictions and that she didn’t use the money I gave her to satisfy them. I’m not saying that she is not enslaved by local groups who force her to take her three children out in the middle of the night to beg. I don’t know her story. What I am saying, is that if the Lord asked me to give to her, then who am I to argue with Almighty God on the principle of social awareness? Yes, it is good and noble to be conscious of the social issues in our world, but are we not spirit-led people—temples of the living God? Do we not believe that we commune with Him and He with us to further His kingdom and proclaim His love throughout a broken world?
I know that a lot of you reading this will not agree with me. I know that you will classify me as someone who does not understand addiction, poverty and the manipulation and tactics used to prey on good intentions. I know that you believe I am perpetuating the problem. But, to you, and to my own doubt, I must ask whether or not I can trust the Lord even when I can’t trust the motives or actions of another. I must ask whether or not my obedience to Him comes with a list of conditions.
Fast forward only a few short days, when Jenny and I sat, once again, in the exact same spot where we first encountered this woman and her children. Like deja vu, she approached us once again, shaking an empty baby bottle in our direction. Not having any groceries to give, nor that familiar tug in my spirit to provide her with money, we smiled and told her “I’m sorry. We don’t have anything.” Disappointed, she turned and left, completely unaware that we had seen her only a few days before.
“She didn’t recognize us,” Jenny said.
I nodded and silently asked the Lord, “What good have we done here, Lord? What benefit was done to this woman? Why did you compel us to give? What progress was made? How was your glory shown?”
“Didn’t you see, Lindy? The baby has pants.”
I craned my neck to see the woman’s shrinking figure as she meandered down the street. And, straddling her hip, I saw two tiny legs wearing polka dot pants. She has pants.
Please don’t misunderstand me. I’m not suggesting that we always give money to those in need. In fact, I would agree that sometimes doing so can cause more harm to them. But, what I am doing is challenging us as a church to seek the spirit’s guidance in helping those in need—to trust Him to direct our giving. I’m proposing that we stop arguing with Him, as I so often do, when He does ask us to hand our cash to the guy on the street corner, holding a sign. I’m asking us to stop wondering “why doesn’t he just get a job?” and instead ask the Lord for His heart towards each and every one of His kids. I want to encourage us, as the body of Christ, to live as those who hear from and are directed by the spirit to walk in the supernatural knowledge that He provides if we would only listen.
Do we truly believe that He is Lord over all things? Do we trust that He knows His kids, all of them, and will provide for them according to His will?
If the answer is “yes,” then it’s time we stop avoiding eye contact with those in desperation and start seeing their need through the lens of the spirit of God.
