Remind me of Steven...

“Remind me, Jesus, yet again

Of all Thine anguish and distress,

Remind me of Thy soul’s deep pain…

Ah, it is true, Our Lord and Savior, that not even in this respect dare we rely upon our own strength, as though we were able of ourselves to recall impressively enough to retain steadily this remembrance of Thee, we would so much rather dwell upon the joyful side than upon the sorrowful, we who all of us desire for ourselves good days and the peace and security of happy times, we who prefer to remain unaware in a profounder sense of the dreadful things, lest, as we foolishly think, they might make our happy life gloomy and serious…”

-Soren Kierkegaard

We all want a happy life.  We want good jobs, nice homes, new-enough cars and a closet full of presentable fashion.  Nobody wants to wonder where the next meal will come from.  Nobody grows up dreaming about their glamorous life on the streets.  And I sure don’t think there are many young girls who believe that the occupation matching their level of dignity involves the physical abuse of strangers.  No, that cannot be how little children bearing the image of the perfect Creator come into the world.  They are full of hope and promise and potential and have no idea of the limits the world will put on them when they are dreaming their young dreams.

I am a white American female, born to a middle-class family with a father who worked very hard to climb the corporate ladder (with complete integrity, I should add) and a mother who stayed home and had close to perfect attendance at every field trip and soccer game we ever had.  My life is the definition of blessed potential.

Steven is a Colombian male, born to a very poor family as one of several siblings with a father who is gone and a mother for whom it is all she can do to get out of bed every day and attempt to take care of her children.  Steven does not know how to read or write.  His life is the definition of the least of these.  And the only difference between me and little Steven: where we born— nothing either one of us earned or deserved.    

I don’t think that because so much of the world lives in poverty that we are all supposed to.  And I don’t think that because I was blessed to be born where I was as the person I am that means I should immediately move to a third world country and try to be a poor Colombian in the name of justice.  But I do think that among the many things I ask God for on a daily basis, one of them should be for Him to remind me of the things that break his heart.  It is so easy for me to go about my day in the pursuit of success and comfort, while all around me people are hurting, crying, hungry and without hope.  The least of these… the people nearest to the heart of God are most often far from mine…

I heard a story a few years ago from a well-known speaker about her young daughter, who was fascinated by flashlights.  As they checked out of the Wal-Mart with a new flashlight in hand, this little girl immediately looked up at her mother and said, “Mommy, Mommy, can we please go find some darkness?”  What wisdom there is in those words…  We have the light the world is looking for, why are we so afraid to ask for darkness?  In our pursuit of a life that is financially secure and a home that looks like it could be on pintrest, are we missing the pleas of the prophets*, the commands of God*, and the direction of Jesus*—all of them telling us to spend our lives doing everything except worrying about ourselves. 

*Isaiah 58: 6-11

*Micah 6:8

*Matthew 25:31-40/Luke 12:33

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None of this is new to you.  It is not new to me.  The discomfort of the pursuit of comfort in my own life has been nagging at me for the past year.  And I cannot do much today that will have a world-changing impact by tomorrow.  But I can keep my eyes open.  I can ask God for a broken heart.  My prayer requests are consistently things like please keep us safe and healthy, be with my friend who is struggling with this, help this to go well for me or my loved ones… And please don’t hear me say I am going to stop praying for these things—because I won’t, in fact I want to pray protection and happiness over the people I love my entire life. 

But, please, Lord, do not let me forget the least of these… keep close to my mind and heart all of the people who are longing for a hope that you offer… never let my world get so small that I forget you care so much more about the orphans and the widows and the homeless than you do about my next car.  I want you to remind me of Steven.  Teach me what it really looks like to live in my tiny corner of the Northwest like Jesus did—confident in His Father, bold in His faith, fair in His love, passionate in His convictions, living for your Kingdom to come on earth.