Of course, the natural implication of this is adoption, which the book does discuss extensively. Davis reminds the reader of the 143 million orphans in the world and points out that if just 7% of professing Christians responded to the needs of these children, "every single orphan in the world would have a home" (p. 81). However, "adoption" comes in many forms. Perhaps in the lives of some, it is about a new family member (or 2 or 3!) but for others, it's about opening our homes and hearts to those in need. It's about living compassionately, willing to share our lives. It's about getting dirty and exposing ourselves to the needs of others, even needs that are hard to face.
In Luke 7, we read of the woman breaking her alabaster box of ointment at Jesus' feet, and Simon the Pharisee's criticism of her actions. Davis points out that "[...] when Simon the Pharisee - the one whose very religious vocation was to be kind and compassionate - saw what she was doing, he made a statement that exposed his own sinfulness: "If this man were a prophet He would know who and what sort of person this woman is who is touching Him, that she is a sinner" (v. 39 NASB). In other words, if Jesus were the real deal, He would see through this woman, know she lived a sinful life, and send her away like the dog she was! Because of Simon's zeal to live a perfectly religious life, letting nothing unclean touch him, he missed out on so much. The sad part is that often, you and I play the role of Simon. We hide behind our supposed goodness, when we're really afraid. Simon was scared to enter that woman's world. [...] How do we overcome fear? We start by making others' pain a priority in our lives. People are eternal; fear is not. We change our lifestyles and start to give sacrificially of our time energy, and resources to the fatherless. And then we do something daring to experience the joy and blessing of loving the poor." (119)
I don't know about you, but for me, this really hits home. Sometimes, being here, I wonder if I'm doing "enough". And then I read books like this, and I think, wow. I am not doing enough. But almost every time, God comes back and reminds me that I am, or could be, reaching out every day to nearly 60 students, some of whom have fathers, and others who don't. So why am I not doing "enough"? I have the opportunity to show Christ to every single one of them. But often I'm not doing "enough" because I'm scared to get involved, just like Simon. I'm focused on getting through my day, not on showing Christ's love to every single child I interact with. I'm focused on preparing them for the test, not on teaching them, gently, the life lessons and discipline that so many of them are lacking in their homes. I'm focused on the here and now... not on their little hearts.
It's so much the same with our Saturday night Jovenes ministry. These 10-15 year olds come, looking, I think, for Truth, stability, love, and of course, a little bit of fun. And yet on many such evenings I am way too focused on making sure the evening itself goes smoothly and everyone behaves, and I'm not thinking nearly enough about the children themselves - their needs, their desires, their struggles, and their hopes and dreams.
And extending even further, its the same way with families and people we've gotten to know in the community. Sometimes we get so focused on making sure that we're not enabling a lazy, wrong, or sinful lifestyle that we're not doing anything! People come looking for financial help, or we just encounter people looking for financial help - so many beggars on the corners in Zamora leaves me wondering how to respond to that every time we go. Sometimes it's wise to give it, and other times it's not. But way too often we get caught up in that decision and we completely overlook their real need for Jesus Christ - their need for a friend, a teacher, someone to love them and care about them.
In short, it's so much easier to help on the surface - blindly rush through a school day without much thought about my students, be a disciplinarian at Jovenes instead of sitting down and having a real conversation with one of the girls, drop a few coins in a beggar's cap (or not drop any) and forget about it because that's easier than thinking about the need - than it is to get involved. Because involvement is risky and scary. What if I develop a relationship with a child and end up with way more responsibility than I ever bargained for? What if we give money and it gets abused? What if...?
Unfortunately, though, those aren't very good excuses. Perhaps the sentence that struck me most in the entire book was the statement that "Compassion is about involvement" (111). To live compassionately requires us to get informed, invested, and involved in people's lives. It demands our time, energy, and true devotion. It forces us to face real, hard questions instead of skirting around them, hoping someday we'll understand. It necessitates sharing emotions and exposing our humanness to others. In one testimonial toward the end of the book, a woman writes, "There is a price to pay for being obedient to God's call to care for the fatherless. The price is your heart. The heart that was once mine no longer belongs to me. It belongs to the children [...] whom God has graciously shared with me, and to every orphan in the world. What an honor to be able to be used by God to let these children know that they no longer need to fear because their heavenly Father has them in the palm of His hand" (p. 140).
I'm convicted. I know God is calling me to love - to give and serve selflessly, to have risky relationships, and to be an empty vessel for His use. Of course I cannot do it on my own. But of course, He is there.
Lately, Grant and I have been talking about becoming parents, and all of the implications of this new adventure we're about to embark on. In our quiet time the other night, we read in Malachi 4. Verse 6 caught my attention: "And he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers, lest I come and smite the earth with a curse." We talked about it for a little bit without coming to any real conclusions. But then last night we were over at Matt & Ruth's, and they were telling us some things they've been learning in parenting their two children. And Matt brought up that verse. He commented that when we turn our minds, hearts, love, and attention to our children, they turn back towards us. This is the way that God created us to be. Reading it again, though, I realize that the concept is not just about children. When we turn our hearts to others, many times they will turn towards us, and when we show them the love of the Father, we are turning them towards Him.
This is not a perfect formula. I know people who have reached out again and again and again and who have gotten burned every time. It's painful to watch, because it seems so unfair. But regardless of the outcome, God promises a blessing to those who are obedient to His call to compassionate living in I Peter 3. This is a promise we can rest in and rely on as we go out into the world, no matter how we are asked to get involved, knowing that He is just.
I Peter 3:8-9
"Finally, be ye all of one mind, having compassion one of another, love as brethren, be pitiful, be courteous: Not rendering evil for evil, or railing for railing: but contrariwise blessing; knowing that ye are thereunto called, that ye should inherit a blessing."
Beautiful, convicting post. Thanks!
ReplyDeleteRenee