There’s a favorite phrase in the University of Maryland Alternative Breaks community:
“Live simply, so that others may simply live.”—Mahatma Ghandi
But the lesson I learned this month was a little different.
For the month of October, we partnered with Love Story, an NPO based in Port Elizabeth, South Africa. Our main form of ministry was the day-to-day operation of feeding schemes. We made peanut butter sandwiches, chopped vegetables, organized food donations, and spent weekday evenings serving a hot meal to the homeless.
One night after we’d dished out the stew, our host, Luke, pulled us aside for a message. The 106-or-so meals that we had served hadn’t been enough, and our stomachs grumbled—not from hunger but from the guilt of knowing we were going home to a fully-stocked kitchen, and we had turned away at least a dozen people that night without that same luxury. We didn’t meet our quota. We didn’t get a perfect score.
We stood in a circle, cardigans held tight around our shoulders, feet away from the day’s empty pots, as Luke leaned against the truck and let the Holy Spirit speak. He said a lot, but what stuck with me was this, “We are not called to achieve, or to be the most productive. Our instructions are simple: feed the hungry. Clothe the naked. Love the least of these.” (Matthew 25)
It occurred to me again and again this month, that we overcomplicate things at home. We have drawn out ministry plans, piles and piles of objectives, and a self-preservationist reason as to why. I think that as Americans, we’re really good at planning ahead. It’s ingrained in us. You need a fallback, you need a backup plan. And because of that, our plans are padded with layers and layers of preemptive excuses—reasons we can use for them not working out. It’s much easier to say that you haven’t been able to do ministry because your school schedule is crazy, because you needed authorization to hold an event, or because funding didn’t come through. A good portion of us would easily commit to those excuses before owning up to the truth of, “I could have, but I didn’t.”
Jesus didn’t set up semi-annual fundraisers. He didn’t postpone healing until the next committee meeting. He went out and loved. It really is that simple. Diligent work and planning that results in well-organized ministry events that glorify the Lord are awesome, but they aren’t the only way to do His work.
You can go out and love that person sitting next to you at Starbucks. You can take the time to look that beggar in the eyes. You can feed the hungry. You can clothe the naked. Maybe it will look like organizing donations for a local soup kitchen. Maybe it will mean buying a sandwich for the person who posts up on that street corner near your work. Maybe it will mean donating the clothes in your bottom drawer, or just starting your day by saying, “Spirit, show me how to love today.”
Just don’t overcomplicate things. Instead of thinking up excuses for why you didn’t, just make like Nike and do it.
Live simply, yes, but love simply. Because it really is as simple as that.
I refuse to believe that God saw us run out of food and discounted the whole day. We didn’t meet our goals, but we did what we could. And we honored Him in that. We didn’t pull off the greatest feeding scheme operation of all time, but people came to us hungry and we fed them. They came to us lonely, and we loved them.
“And one of them, a lawyer, asked him a question to test him. ‘Teacher, which is the great commandment in the Law?’ And he said to him, ‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments depend all the Law and the Prophets.’” Matthew 22:36-40
