"it's like the breath of jesus is right here in this room."
My Tuesday that is answers my Saturday that was. Sometimes God is funny like that.
I went today to visit someone in their home, about two blocks from where my church meets. And I am ashamed that I have been walking and working and living in that neighborhood for two years now and never realized that there was this pocket of incredible poverty just on the other side of the fire station. Broken down cars, white letters stenciled too-large on sagging doors, tiny apartments holding far too many people. The lumberyard piled high over the chain link fence, the smell of cheap beer and fried food, the red-rimmed eyes, the hidden spaces of illegal immigrants trying not to be found. Flags of various nations are pinned to the walls, and there are no streetlights, and there is nowhere to go.
The way people look down and avert their eyes, not looking around, not looking at each other, not looking up.
How did I miss this? I took over a gift card and some of the clothes I can no longer wear. We talked for a long time, and prayed to bless a white dress, lacey bonnet and little gold cross for a little dark-haired baby who has now gone to heaven. The mother speaks only English, and the father speaks only Spanish, and they hold hands while we pray. They invite me to come back sometime for chile rellenos, and tell me how lucky I am to have a car that is reliable and a job at NASA - unimaginable wealth to those who walk to their jobs, get paid every week, and just hope to pay the rent every month and not get evicted.
There should be no poor among you, for in the land the LORD your God is giving you to possess as your inheritance, he will richly bless you
I forget how spoiled I am, how incredibly privileged, and how the things I lament are often not the same things God laments. He has not forgotten these precious ones, even if everyone around them can't be bothered and tries to pretend that they aren't there. It's not that I feel sorry for them - it's that it makes me feel sad for me. Job talks about those who force the poor of the land into hiding. I have a baby shower invitation this weekend for a friend with a picture-perfect pregnancy, many color-coordinated gifts, much preparation for the birth of her son. This other friend: she has one only one photo of her daughter from the hospital, and was never able to buy her a dress during her short little life. And I'm not sure she knows that there is a different world out there or what it is like. But I know about her world, now, and I need to know. I'm so thankful that God remembers. I am so, so thankful that God remembers. What a man desires is unfailing love; it is better to be poor than a liar.
Who's actually the one who is poor?
For I am poor and needy, and my heart is wounded within me.
I went today to visit someone in their home, about two blocks from where my church meets. And I am ashamed that I have been walking and working and living in that neighborhood for two years now and never realized that there was this pocket of incredible poverty just on the other side of the fire station. Broken down cars, white letters stenciled too-large on sagging doors, tiny apartments holding far too many people. The lumberyard piled high over the chain link fence, the smell of cheap beer and fried food, the red-rimmed eyes, the hidden spaces of illegal immigrants trying not to be found. Flags of various nations are pinned to the walls, and there are no streetlights, and there is nowhere to go.
The way people look down and avert their eyes, not looking around, not looking at each other, not looking up.
How did I miss this? I took over a gift card and some of the clothes I can no longer wear. We talked for a long time, and prayed to bless a white dress, lacey bonnet and little gold cross for a little dark-haired baby who has now gone to heaven. The mother speaks only English, and the father speaks only Spanish, and they hold hands while we pray. They invite me to come back sometime for chile rellenos, and tell me how lucky I am to have a car that is reliable and a job at NASA - unimaginable wealth to those who walk to their jobs, get paid every week, and just hope to pay the rent every month and not get evicted.
There should be no poor among you, for in the land the LORD your God is giving you to possess as your inheritance, he will richly bless you
I forget how spoiled I am, how incredibly privileged, and how the things I lament are often not the same things God laments. He has not forgotten these precious ones, even if everyone around them can't be bothered and tries to pretend that they aren't there. It's not that I feel sorry for them - it's that it makes me feel sad for me. Job talks about those who force the poor of the land into hiding. I have a baby shower invitation this weekend for a friend with a picture-perfect pregnancy, many color-coordinated gifts, much preparation for the birth of her son. This other friend: she has one only one photo of her daughter from the hospital, and was never able to buy her a dress during her short little life. And I'm not sure she knows that there is a different world out there or what it is like. But I know about her world, now, and I need to know. I'm so thankful that God remembers. I am so, so thankful that God remembers. What a man desires is unfailing love; it is better to be poor than a liar.
Who's actually the one who is poor?
For I am poor and needy, and my heart is wounded within me.