It was only our second day in Thailand.
Sweaty from dragging my big, almost 50lb bag behind me and tired from jet lag, I was ready for the train to start moving. I had thirteen hours of travel ahead of me, and I was ready for us to get going.
Don’t get me wrong, I was actually pretty excited that we were taking a train. It felt like we would be seeing a lot more of Thailand that way, plus I had never really travelled on a train before. Plus, I was eager to see more of Thailand than just the train station or the brief glances I caught in the dark as we drove from the airport to our hostel the night before. I was ready for the change from the five months we had spent in Central America to our next three months in Southern Asia. I was excited to see a new culture, new people, and to start our new ministry.
But Thailand is hot, and it masked a lot of my excitement.
Now, when I say hot, I mean 60-70% humidity with a temperature in the 80s (if not more) hot. I mean sweat dripping in places you didn’t know you could sweat hot. I mean clothes soaked and continually wiping moisture off your face hot. I mean the hot where you think you’re going to do something outside but then you poke your head outside and realize how hot it really is and go back inside, where you turn the air up a couple more degrees (for good measure) and decide you’ll wait until winter to venture out again. That’s the kind of hot I mean.
So, when I tell you that Thailand is hot, what I really mean to say is that Thailand is a sauna that’s been turned up way too high and there’s no way to escape.
Do you think I’m being over-dramatic? Just you wait until you go to Thailand. We’ll see what you think about over-dramatic then.
In addition to the heat, there’s a pervading kind of tired you seem to get from travelling for long periods of time. And it’s a weird tired because your body has been stationary for hours upon hours but somehow it feels like you’re the one who pushed the plane through the sky instead of sleeping most of the time in your seat.
We’d been travelling for well over 24 hours before I got on the train. I was so exhausted. Even the excitement and newness of being in Asia couldn’t seem to cut through it. There was a haziness that floated around me and everything felt pretty surreal.
All I really wanted out of life, at that moment, was for the non air conditioned train to start moving so there would be a breeze from the window. Then I would kick back, open up some of my train snacks, put my iPod on shuffle, and tune out for awhile.
So when a very skinny, very hungry lady appeared outside the train window, I was more annoyed than empathizing. She had her hands cupped in front of her, shouting something about food to the passengers inside the train. Periodically, she put her hands together like she was praying, pressing them to her lips and desperately trying to make eye contact with the people inside of the train. I was careful not to meet her eyes. What did I have to give her? Nothing that would fill her up. At least, that’s what I told myself to avoid the guilt.
I didn’t have anything I wanted to give her, why didn’t she take the hint and move on to the next train? Someone else could give her something, it didn’t have to be me. Why couldn’t the train start moving already? Was that lady still outside, lingering by the window?
It may have only been my second day in Thailand, but it was my sixth month on the Race. Yeah, I was tired. Yeah, I was hot. Yeah, I didn’t really have much food. But hadn’t I learned anything over the last six months? Is that at all how Jesus would react? No…? Well, wasn’t I called to be more like Jesus?
And hadn’t I been excited to see Thailand? To see it’s culture, to help its people, to begin our ministry?
Wasn’t this lady standing before me exactly what I had been excited for? Wasn’t she exactly what I wanted?
How would Jesus see this woman? She’s so desperately hungry that she has to beg from strangers for just a little bit of food. She didn’t choose to beg. She didn’t choose to be at the mercy of others for her next bit of food. And while she didn’t choose this path in life, she’s brave enough to look passengers in the eye and to continue to ask for food even when nothing is given. She probably feels like no one sees her or cares, especially when the train leaves and she’s left with nothing but her hunger pains.
What did it matter that my bag of chips wouldn’t fill up her starving stomach? One small bag of something was better than a whole lot of nothing. And was that really the reason I didn’t want to give her anything?
Or did I just want to keep the chips for myself?
After a moment’s hesitation, I reached down into my bag, rummaging for the chips. Just as I found them, the train started to move.
It’s funny how something I wanted to happen so badly just moments ago happened exactly when I no longer wanted it. Stupid train.
By the time I had the chips, the lady was already a ways away from my window. She had moved back from the tracks to avoid the moving train, but she was still hopeful that someone would take pity on her and give her some food. The chips rustled as I waved the bag back and forth to catch the her attention. Finally, she saw me and I threw the bag. It landed, just short of where she was standing. Before she bent down to pick up the chips, the lady looked into my eyes, put her hands together, and made a short bow in my direction. Then she picked up the chips and disappeared into the slums on the other side of the tracks.
A lot of people might read this and say, “Neala, you did a good thing.” But that’s not what I want to hear. I want this act of giving to be normal for me. I don’t want to do it because it’s a good thing, I want to do it because it’s who I am supposed to be. Who I’m called to be.
I also don’t want to give and have it become about what I did for someone, I want to give because someone needs something and I happen to have it. I don’t want to do it because I feel guilty or convicted but because it has become so normal to give that I don’t even think about it.
Most of all, I don’t want to listen to excuses from myself or miss opportunities because I’m tired, hot, or just plain don’t want to do something.
Sometimes, I think we see things from behind a train window. We’re excited and ready for what we think God’s calling us to do… and that’s not bad. But sometimes we miss out because we get tunnel vision. We miss out because we’ve so clearly envisioned that our ministry begins at the end of the train route instead of along the way. That tunnel vision allows us to put blinders up. We begin to give ourselves a pile of excuses (that sound reasonable or justifiable) not do ministry opportunities when they present themselves along the way. But excuses, no matter how good they seem, are still just excuses.
Jesus could have used all the excuses in the world. Even when he was tired or emotionally drained and wanted to rest, he still let people come to him. He allowed for ministry to happen along the way, not just when he was ready for it. He gave his time to them. He healed them, ministered to them, and fed them. He was selfless in giving himself and what he had, at any time.
My goal is to be like Jesus, and if that means going through the train window, then through the train window I’ll go.
