When all you can do is whisper

I look through the picture book on his desk, the one of the cruise his family took to a small island in the Atlantic. He talks about the ship, large enough that the cruise line built a custom dock especially for it. He describes the resort just off shore where travelers relax and recreate, enjoying their days away from the pressure of regular life.

Photo Credit: Pete Markham

I see the pictures and the smiling faces and I think about how nice the trip must have been. And then someone asks where this dream land is — “Haiti,” he says.

My mind flashes to pictures of fallen-down buildings and human bodies crawling out of trash heaps and dark faces made lighter with gray soot.

I think about Ann and how she’s there this week and writing her best work amidst the pain and suffering and beauty of God’s people.

I try to picture it. On one side of the island wealthy travelers relax and enjoy the fruits of their labor. How far away are they from people still living in heaps?

“This is dangerous thinking,” I tell myself. Because we can fall into the trap of feeling guilty for every good gift even though we’re assured they all come from the Father.

The dichotomy stuns me. I want to wrap this rags and riches story up in words and give it a clean summary where I say, “Shame on them.”

But I can’t.

Because I come home every day to a comfortable home with hot running water and clean sheets and I know people in my own community who live on the street.

I rationalize that I cannot help them all. I’m one small person with one small life. I do a few small things, here and here. But none of it requires much sacrifice.

I’m jolted by Ann’s words:

How many times has my “I can’t give” really meant, “I can’t give without bearing a burden myself?”

I read it on a Saturday morning before the house stirs and I weep because I know it’s true. So many times I’ve said “I can’t” when I really meant “I won’t sacrifice what is mine.”

For a moment I wonder what it would look like if I made changes, adjusted my lifestyle, and really asked God what he wants from me. But then fear grips and I think stupid things like, “What if I can’t get the new iPhone that comes out this fall?” I want to delete that sentence and walk away from it all. Because the ugliness of those words written and visible for the world make me sick.

There is no way to wrap this up with a nice verse and a thoughtful conclusion. Nothing remains except to whisper softly to the Father of all things, “Keep changing me and show me the way forward.” Amen.

And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. (Ezekiel 36:26 ESV)