Don't Read Me if You're Already Having a Bad Day

I'm feeling cynical today. I have all these posts I've started about churches closing on Christmas, postmodernism & Christianity, and the Emerging Church (part II). But somehow existentialism has snuck up on me and my thinking has gotten quite reductionist (how's that for some buzz words?).

What is the point of all this, anyway?!? And by this, I mean all of the brilliant, funny, intriguing, thought-provoking discussions that I am either a part of or hear/read about. I spend a good bit of my time these days engaging in intellectual conversations with friends or in reading the deep thoughts of others in blogland and sharing my own.

And yet.

A few Mondays ago, on one of the bitterly cold nights we had, I saw something that has been haunting my thoughts ever since. Curled up on a MARTA bench next to a shopping cart piled high with junk, was someone whose hat was pulled down so low that I couldn't tell what he or she looked like. And I thought to myself, "That person has no face. To me, it's just one more nameless, faceless, genderless, homeless person. Why, Oh Lord, have you seen fit to put me in this warm car with a family I love, when on the other side of the glass is someone who is cold, hungry and has no face?" It was a cry of anguish for that person but also a cry of frustration and anger at what all-too-often feels like senseless, mindless and arbitrary justice in the world. That person could have been anyone. It was as though, in his or her bundled state, he or she represented every person of every race, gender and religion. It seemed that I was seeing the very absence of grace, of hope, of peace. I felt as though if I were to peel away the layers of dirty cloth, I would see my own face staring back at me.

The next morning, when we drove past again, I saw that nothing had changed. The position of the shopping cart, the person, the hat, everything, was exactly the same. I felt the bile rising in my throat as I realized that person was now quite possibly dead. Again I found myself silently screaming at God: "Why? Why not me?" I felt angry at God for favoring me and not that person. I felt angry at myself for being angry with God and for not doing more with what he has given me. I ached to think how that person wasn't always faceless. I hurt for the person (EMT, police, I don't know exactly who) that would have to come and take the body away. That worker is another nameless, faceless person in my frame of reference, but not to everyone. I wondered if he or she would have the same thoughts of "This could be me," while doing his/her civic duty.

While I sit in a heated, comfortable home typing Very Deep Thoughts, someone down the street is cold and hungry. Someone in the suburbs is dying. Someone across the country is being raped, and someone halfway around the world is watching her child die of starvation. And here I sit.

How does God do it? How does he watch over his children fighting, killing, hating, not believing in him and not go crazy? Obviously, I'm attributing human weakness to an all-powerful being, but still... how did Jesus, who in grace allowed himself to be stuck in a weak human body, walk the earth for 3o or so years and not weep more often? Perhaps he did, and the Bible just doesn't record it. He paid the ultimate price and provided the redemption for all of the sins and resulting hurt of humankind. But although it's true that I'm called to die to myself daily, I don't have the weight of the world resting on my shoulders. I am not responsible for the fate of humanity... and it's a good thing, too, because I'd just screw it all up. But that's another topic for another day.

So where do we draw the line? Some people are called to live with the poor and minister to them, but are all? I'm learning the beauty and value of living as unto the Lord. When I post something , I do it for the glory of God and for the edification/education/entertainment of his saints. Yet this is time I could be volunteering at a homeless shelter. By American standards, we don't live extravagantly, we do have a Compassion and a Dalit student that we support, and we have gone with homeless folks to buy them a meal several times. Yet, we eat a nice variety of food, and I'll be making a cheesecake to take to Bible study on Thursday. Is this not money that could be used for the needy?

How the heck do we honor and enjoy the good gifts that come down from the Father of Lights without becoming greedy and nearsighted? I'm not proposing a rhetorical question, my friends. I am hopeful and prayerful that God will speak through you, for I am at a loss.