I have never heard thunder this loud before. It crashes through the quiet rain startling me enough to jump. The louder it gets; the closer it gets, the more I think about the people here. Not even a full block away there are people living in shanties. Not even a block away there are families with incomplete homes or houses made of bamboo and corrugated tin. Yet I sit here in my comfortable bed, with windows that let in the breeze but not the rain and even a ceiling fan to make it more cool. I have enough clothes that I don’t have to repeat an outfit in a week. I have food for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Oh, not to mention the snacks we have out. My mother always used to tell me that life isn’t fair, but this imbalanced? How can there be such a discrepancy? I know there is hope for these people, but where is the light for them? How do I minister to a people that are hungry for real food, let alone spiritual? How can I give up my comforts back home and still have so much more than them here? I could give everything I have, but would that cover anything for them? Where do I draw the line between sacrifice and sufficiency?
Cambodia is so poor that we barter for a difference of 25-50 cents. Today we took a motorbike taxi and bartered until we were 25 cents greater than what we had first offered. Though it’s cultural, it seems so absurd when you break it down like that. Am I being selfish? How do you think Jesus handled bartering? Do you think he ever had to? It’s hard to know what to do in a situation when you’re not sure how Jesus would handle it. So many times that concept passes my mind.
When we crossed the border from Thailand to Cambodia, a little Cambodian boy ran up to me begging for food or money. I had a bag of little snacks with me, so I reached for a sealed bag of coated peanuts and handed it to him. He thanked me and ran off. No sooner did he leave then a woman came up to me begging. I judged her. I took one look at her untattered clothes, her hair neatly pulled back, and her feet protected with shoes and thought to myself, “She doesn’t need anything.” Who am I to decide that? A few seconds later the first boy returned to beg more, accompanied by several friends. I felt accosted by them. They followed me for about fifteen yards, walking on all sides of me. Where do we draw the line? Should I have given the boy the peanuts to begin with? Should I have given all of them everything I had? Sometimes I think, “That would have been easier for Jesus; He could have multiplied the food.” But how many times did he actually do that in the bible? Very few. I am sure there were hundreds of people he could have given food to that he didn’t; thousands of people he could have healed; millions he could have given homes to. Where did he draw the line? I don’t believe there is a line. I believe we need to trust the Father to lead us to the people we should help, and trust him with the rest that we cannot help.
