When I was 11 years old, my parents took my brother and me to Cancun for Spring Break. It was the furthest I’d ever been from home and I honestly didn’t know what to expect. I knew we would sight see and spend time down on the beach. We even got to climb the great pyramid at Chichen Itza. One afternoon, we thought we’d take the bus to the nearby outdoor mall to do some shopping, but we missed the stop. My dad swore that the bus would eventually turn around and we would be able to continue on with our day, but the bus continued on for miles. We slowly made our way further and further from the resort area, and the neighborhoods became more and more poor with every turn, the pavement turned to dirt, and more people were exiting the bus.
Eventually we found ourselves at the end of the line. It was just the four of us sitting on a stopped bus.Even the driver had left. Again, my dad promised that the bus would turn around and we would head back soon enough, so we waited. I peered through the bus window and all I saw lining the dirt road were houses built out of cinder blocks. The roofs were made of rusted aluminum, sun degraded ?berglass, or plastic. The only protection from intruders were broken bottles, turned sharp side up, and placed randomly around the tops of the cinder block walls and cemented in place.
I was actually quite nervous. I’ve always been fortunate enough to have a safe and sturdy roof over my head. This place was the absolute de?nition of foreign to me. After some time had passed, the driver came back on and told us we’d have to get off and take the bus facing the other way on the opposite side of the street if we wanted to get back to the shopping center. Embarrassed, we hopped off and boarded the new bus. This one began racing back towards the tourist part of town.
The closer we got to the beach, the fuller the bus got. I’m so thankful for what my parents did next. They explained to us that the people boarding the bus in crisp white shirts and carefully pressed slacks were all workers in hotels and resorts just like where we were staying. These were the people that waited on us, cleaned our hotel rooms, cooked our food, and carried our bags. I can’t tell you all we did during that trip, but I will forever remember that bus ride over 15 years ago as vividly as when it ?rst happened.
Last week, My team and I visited Carcelen Bajo and I traveled back in time. Except this time I was a 27 year old woman, on a bus in Ecuador, venturing from asphalt to bumpy dirt roads, and heading to pray for a woman with cancer. Rebar protruded from brick houses and shards of glass surrounded un?nished, yet lived in, houses. However, this time my American Privilege was in check. This time I understood that as an American, I can use the blessings I’ve been given in life to now serve those who are constantly looked down upon because of their status in life.
The woman we were serving with lives there in one of those un?nished houses. She cares so deeply about the people and children in her neighborhood that she would board a bus just to come pick up a group of gringos to come teach English to the children in her barrio so they could get better paying jobs in the tourist areas of Quito and San Antonio. Her heart visibly breaks for these kids, who many have already turned to alcohol and drugs at early ages, some as young as 11 years old.
She wants them to know God. She prays for them to have bright futures. She’s worried about the social disconnect that is happening between families and neighbors in Carcelen Bajo. It seems that she is one of the very few that cares. At the end on the month, I get to move on to a different location that will eventually lead me home. She lives on the front lines everyday.
I am privileged. This is me acknowledging my privilege. My heart has been breaking for what breaks His in a ?erce way this month. As American’s, we need to realize the world is greater than our everyday life. In fact, your everyday life is so ridiculously different from someone else’s. God has designed us each in a unique fashion, inspiring us each with our own life plan. Its up to us to act on that call.
When you look at a list of privileges that people can be born with, I have way more checks in the yes column than many. I was able to live at home while I earned my degree in a ?eld I am most passionate about and graduate without debt. I am doing my best to follow that call that God placed on my heart. The one that called me out upon the water, where feet may fail. Somehow I was blessed with a point in my life that I woke up to the needs around me. There is something more out there for all of us. My something is giving away a year of comfort to be on the World Race. I’ve abandoned my independence in exchange of dependance on all things Him.
That said, my acknowledgement of privilege will look entirely different than your’s. Some may look like volunteering on skid row, focus and passion for community development in your hometown, or maybe you tutor kids after school. It is vital to realize that selling your soul for the riches of the Earth is not what we were made for.
We were made to love, accept, and rebuke judgement of others. We must give voice to those who are too scared to use their’s. It is important that we recognize injustices in the world and ?ght to resist hurt, genocide, ignorance, and persecution.
I encourage you to share God’s love in your actions everyday. Spread His story and further the kingdom. He has rallied us to be disciples of nations. If you’ve got a steady income, donate a portion to something that bene?ts an organization you are passionate about. Women’s shelters, music education, planting a church in another country (or even in the next town over).
Maybe your income is already stretched as thin as it can go. Donate time. Noting is too little, give what you can while utilizing self care. The world cannot survive on its own. We all need help but others are in better situations than others. My calling is different than your’s but neither is better, or less important than the other. My point is, GIVE BACK, spread accepting love, not oppressive hate, and further the kingdom. Jesus hung out with prostitutes, drunkards, and sinners. Let he who hasn’t sinned, cast the ?rst stone.
