I walked down the street with tears stinging my eyes, hands shaking, heart pounding.
The three boys followed closely with their hands out, pleading.
“But you already promised. All we want is some bread. You promised.”
I didn’t promise.
But that didn’t make me feel any better.
Fifteen minutes earlier I’d run into some street boys as I was walking into a Guava, a coffee shop, to meet my team. It was our day off, and I’d spent the afternoon with Becca trying to find wifi, enjoying some American food and relaxing. Oh, and shopping. We were coming from a street market where I purchased handmade earrings, a bracelet and a necklace. The change was still in my back pocket.
Right outside of Guava the boys struck up a conversation. Knowing their game well, I stopped to talk to them anyway, asking them about school and where they lived, intending to pray for them.
“All we need is one piece of bread. We’ll share it. Please.”
I told them I wanted to pray for them, but in my mind I secretly decided I was going to buy them something from Guava to share. Just as I was about to go inside and get them a snack, a Guava employee walked up and apologized to me, running the boys off. I joined my team inside and watched through the window as they argued, shouting at the employee and getting a little bit rough. I knew Guava didn’t want customers to make a habit of handing out their food, so I decided it was over and sat down.
A few minutes later we left, heading for the grocery store to buy some snacks for the week. The boys were waiting.
The moment I crossed the street I was surrounded, the boys grabbing at my arm and shoulders, doing anything to get my attention.
“Give us some bread!”
“I’m sorry, not today.”
“Please, we’re hungry!”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
“But you already promised. All we want is some bread. You promised.”
“I didn’t promise. I’m sorry. I can’t today.”
It was a lie.
I didn’t promise. But I could.
The change from my jewelry shopping felt heavy in my back pocket. My hands were shaking knowing that I was on my way to buy peanut butter and chocolate and diet coke, things I didn’t really need. But I didn’t know what to do. I’d already said no, and I didn’t want to back down, confirming that hassling people was the way to get what they wanted.
So I kept walking.
And with every step, my heart broke a little more.
Because I was lying to them.
Because to them I’m a rich American, even if I feel pretty poor every time I check my bank account.
Because I want my life to look like Jesus. But I definitely wasn’t being Jesus to these boys.
As Dave, Mickey and Nate stepped in, telling the boys not to touch me and to leave me alone, I ducked into another coffee shop, hoping to feel relieved that it was over.
But it wasn’t over. I can’t explain exactly what happened in my heart that day, or why, but the reality of the world’s needs and my own selfishness came crashing down around me. Oh, hello brokenness. Not so great to see you again.
And so here I am. In a place of brokenness. Nine months into this race, still trying to reconcile the reality I’ve always know with the reality I’m now walking in, and figuring out how I bridge the gap. How I can be the change. And what it really looks like to live like Jesus in the middle of it all.
