You know that this week Compassion International asked us to write a letter to you and I was annoyed.
After writing about being a modern day leper I wanted to share one of the most frustrating parts – losing my voice. Not literally, but being unable to participate in conversations because my comments were blocked. It’s hard to look witty when I’d write something so clever, so very perfect, hit ‘post comment’ and then have a blank comment box staring back.
You smiled. I love that about you. You let me say and feel what comes to mind without having to pretty it up. Yes, yes, yes, in the midst of it I know I am being shallow, petty, and rather fruit-of-the-flesh. And you take it. Because you love me too much to leave me there, you nudge me towards you.
“So,” came your gentle, yet not so subtle reply, “kind of stinks to have no voice, doesn’t it.”
You mean like all those kids? Who haven’t been born into social, economic, and educational power like I was?
Couldn’t we just keep it about me for a tiny bit longer? It wasn’t just about the commenting, in the midst of it, I had a guest post over at Tamara Out Loud. She was kind enough to invite me to share and I was like the guest of honor who sat in the corner and wouldn’t look at anyone and came off as rude and inconsiderate because I couldn’t respond to comments.
And don’t you see that when I look rude, you kind of look bad too. Don’t you care?
“OK, let me just be sure I’m following you.” You’re not always this patient with me, but you know how distressing the whole hacking thing had been and were cutting me some slack. “You think you make me look bad when you’re not able to post a witty comment? How do you think I look when there are still unsponsored kids? I’m not trying to be rude or anything, just wondering.”
Well, double snap.
God, you know I’m not really a ‘life verse’ kind of a person, but John 3:30 has always rung so true in John the Baptist’s ability to sum up the cry of his soul and the problem of his alignment to life.
He (Jesus) must increase, but I must decrease.
God, that verse is a painful mirror. Help me to care about the least of these more than I care about myself. Help me to care about their voices instead of being so vigilant about being sure mine is heard. Help me to decrease.
Sometimes I am so deeply disappointed in my responses. I want to want the things you care about, I’m sorry I fall short more often than I’d like. The timing of this assignment was not random. God, thank you for taking different strands of my life and weaving them together in ways that makes a richer and more complex pattern than I dreamed possible.
P.S. You know I delighted in hearing that 837 kids have been sponsored in the last week with only 2,271 left. I was so excited I looked up to see if 837 and 2,271 were prime numbers because that would have just been so cool! Neither are, but I’m still happy they are both odd numbers (as you know, I like odd numbers better than even ones!).