One aspect of the One Word, Naked, that I want to address is the concept of feeding the hungry, clothing the naked. (Matt. 25)
Read more about my thoughts on this subject at Finding Balance, here:
Talk of injustice brings to mind apartheid, racism and lawful matters. It makes us think of courts and authority and right versus wrong. When a hurricane is hurling toward our doorsteps, we usually don’t stop to wonder about the justice of its attack.
My husband and I didn’t respond to Hurricane Sandy with the prescribed panic and preparations. I didn’t buy any extra batteries, water or canned food. We didn’t board up our windows or batten down hatches. In fact, the only thing I was concerned about was whether or not we would lose power.
During the freakish summer storm that caught most of the east coast by surprise, we lost power for about 2 days. With heat indices topping 110 degrees, we lay motionless in our basement complaining mildly. It’s a terrible inconvenience to not be able to make my morning coffee, dry my hair, do the laundry or watch TV. So as Sandy came, I dreaded another few dimly lit days.
Sandy rattled our windows and threatened to toss the neighbor’s trees into our roof, all day long. Suddenly I thought of a little old maI see almost everyday on my dog walks. He sits serenely on a wooden bench in the shade beside the public library. Usually, he is surrounded by newspapers and a couple of small, flattened boxes. He’s always dressed in the same brown, mid-weight coat, black pants and plain shoes. I don’t think he speaks English, because when I nod politely and murmur, “Hello,” he just looks simply back at me.
What startles me every time is the shine in his eyes. Blackest black, they glisten and glint in the morning light. The sparkle belies what I wonder about his situation: is he homeless, hungry, hot or cold? Does anyone know he’s out here everyday and does he have any family?
One quick dash to our mailbox that afternoon, proved that Sandy was ushering in winter. The temperature had dropped to low 40s and wind whipped, slapped and stung as it played pingpong with raindrops. I wondered, Is he out there in this? Was he out there this summer?
The next morning, my dog and I hustled down our usual route past the library, and there he stood in the narrow doorway, hands stuffed deeply into his pockets, elbows locked defensively at his sides. His chin was down as if he could disappear inside his coat collar.
Impulsively, I ran down the hill toward the library and pulled what little cash I had from my pockets. “Here,” I said. “Please, go get something warm to eat or drink.”
At first he wouldn’t take the money from my hands, but I stood for a second, really wondering what to do. He didn’t answer me either. Finally, both brittle cold hands wrapped around my own, and cupped the money then slid away, concealing the bills. I touched his arm and said, “God bless you.” Then hurried away.
I was fortunate to show the man mercy, but what about justice? Is it just that I will finish my walk, shed my layers and curl up on the couch beside a husband who loves me? Is it just that even if he manages to get a hot meal and a pair of gloves, tomorrow he’ll be right where I saw him today? Is it just?
That day, my heart began to simmer in my chest. I wondered helplessly, at first, What could I possibly do? The next day, I got a sweet letter from the child we sponsor through Compassion International. Innocently, she asked about my life, but what could I reply?
Is it just that she is an orphan? Is it just that her lot in life is to scrap and save and rely on mercy just to live; while I enjoy variety in my food, advanced education, warmth and relative comfort?
“He has shown thee oh man, what is good, and what the Lord requires of you, but to do justly, to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” Micah 6:8
It’s just like the Lord to leave me without excuses. Through the volunteer coordinate from another organization, I recently learned about a group called FACETS that reaches out to the homeless specifically. Starting in just a few weeks, they will begin a special program to prevent hypothermia among the homeless in our county. I called immediately and was put to work the next day.
James says, “Mercy triumphs over judgment.” Despite the social urge to do something about these injustices, judgement cannot reconcile innate discrepancies. Romans 12:1 tells us that God has shown us great mercy. To live out this mercy, to be a conduit from God’s heart to an unjust world, this will triumph.
A man far smarter than myself, started Chapter 1 of his book with such a question. Blissfully and quickly engaged in the generous free copy of Recapture the Wonder, that Moody Publishers provided to me for this review, I pawed through the first several pages. Suddenly, I was aware that I hadn’t actually captured any of the message. Though reading the words, even out loud at points, their meaning slipped through the slats in my mind. Slats created by tiny gaps between streams of constant information: schedules, studies, obligations, requisite “fun” time, etc.
Though his prose are heady and intellectual, as I write this post I’m gaining a better understanding of Ravi Zacharias’ message in his new book. Maintaining a sense of wonder in this adult-world is just like my fruitless efforts to grasp Zacharias’ intent and retain it. I’m a very capable reader, I have plenty of light, a comfortable chair – all the tools necessary to read this book thoughtfully and to gain insight. And yet, I finished the first chapter as clueless as I began. What is this?
Can you honestly explain wonder? We miss it, but what is it?
A less educated child, the one I’m watching lift her sleepy head off of the bouncy-chair tray. Glassy blue-gray eyes blink at me, slightly out of focus. She’s unaware of the drool dripping from her chin or the creases in her cheek from resting on top of her toys. But within seconds, still unaware of herself, she sees her mother. And her eyes snap quickly into focus, a contented, pleased, wonderful smile spreads across her face. She knows what wonder is. She is unaware of herself, but she knows what wonder is.
Zacharias shares the story of walking down a busy street with his wife. They bump and jostle past affluence, ignorance, business and all other walks of life. Then, they notice a homeless man, oblivious to anyone watching, digging desperate and hungry through a dumpster. The story ends there, but imagine if someone had tapped that man on the shoulder and offered him a steaming bowl of chicken soup, a sandwich and water, then walked away without demanding reciprocity. That man would display wonder.
I’ve struggled with slow digestion as I read Ravi’s book. I wish I could hear him read it in his rich, mesmerizing Indian accent. Ah well, the written page will afford me many re-reads. And I will need them. So far, I am considering whether intellect and knowledge – especially self-knowledge – are potential enemies of wonder.
What do you think?