My Struggles
The thoughtful struggles of a missionary in South Africa.
Article was added to FaithandValues.com in July 2002.
On the eve of the beginning of another weekend, I
strolled out of the Waterfront shopping area to be greeted by the wonderful
smell of the ocean. It was a nice breezy, cool night. I made my way from the
busy, shopping center heading to my bus stop hoping that I was not too late to
catch one of the huge vehicles that would zip me home. I walked toward the
familiar blue, metallic, structure that sheltered stranded pedestrians waiting
for a cheap ride.
I stood there and took in a deep breath, thinking I would enjoy another
nose-full of ocean air. Instead, something else pushed it's way into my nose.
At first, the rank odor was unfamiliar and I could not place it. Then, it hit
me. In a very primal, repulsive way, the smell of rancid urine filled my nose
again, all but causing me to forget what the once wonderful ocean smelled like.
After "opening my eyes" and waking up from the little world I was
living in, I realized that the bus stop structure probably had been someone's
evening accommodations, protecting him or her from the elements. I noticed a
piece of cardboard laying on the ground, probably that person's box springs and
mattress the previous night.
Quickly I moved around and found a place where I could stand and smell the ocean
once again. It was very easy for me to move way from the unpleasant smell and
sight, taking me back to my own little oblivious world of ignorance around me.
I had just come from a shopping mall and an area where people had money and
were spending it like it was going out of style. Only 10 minutes earlier, I had
walked through the food court; and now I was holding my plastic bag of Thai
take-away. I was heading to my warm, comfortable home where I would enjoy the
food I had just bought. I even wondered if I was really hungry? Not really, but
it was dinnertime according to my watch and habitual routine.
It was all too easy to get on the bus and hand the driver some pocket change,
letting him take me where I wanted to go, which was far away from the remnants
of another's home (and restroom) on the street. In fact, it was so easy, I
didn't even think about my experience until the next day. It just slipped it
out of my mind and went about my business too engulfed in my own thoughts.
Sometimes things like that happen in our lives, don't they? Things we don't
like or feel comfortable with are all too easily pushed out of our minds,
seldom to enter our "world" again on their own. Unless that ugly
reality hits us again and we're forced to re-visit that uncomfortable feeling,
we focus only on the "important" things in our lives and not on other
suffering or pain of others. Sometimes it's all too easy to forget that we live
in a world where people are hungry and suffering. We conveniently forget that children
are starving in alleys and along the roads. It's all too easy not to see
someone sleeping on the sidewalk as we pass by going to our nice homes or to
the shopping mall.
I drove around everyday and saw
people standing at the stop lights (they're called "robots" in South
Africa) begging for food or money. I saw children walking around, with dirty,
old clothes and either wearing one or no shoes. They would walk right up to
your window and timidly hold out their filthy hands mumbling pleas for the
scraps or bits of change no one wants. Occasionally they wait for people to
come out of restaurants or shops so they can beg for small change. It might be
easy, or convenient, to point our fingers and condemn a government who has
failed to provide for its citizens. It might even be possible to believe that
they brought this problem down on themselves and we don't have any obligations
to help them. What real obligation do I have to them? We can even make the
argument that those people begging in the streets probably can help themselves,
but it's just easier to ask for handouts instead.
How
many times do "unpleasant" things, like this, hit us right in the
face? How often has someone asked you for money or for food? In the US,
probably not that often- or at least I hadn't been approached much before
leaving the country. Why are we so eager to get the homeless and hungry out of
our sight? Why are we so keen to send them on their way, so that we can get
back to our comfortable lives? What else can we do? We can't give them money
for fear of it being used on alcohol or drugs, can we?
As citizens of this world, what is our part is to play in this whole situation?
What can we do as Christians to help those who are hurting, hungry and
suffering? I don't have enough money or food to give everyone that asks, so
what can I do? Is giving 10% of my income at church the answer? Do I just quit
my job and go work in a soup kitchen for the rest of my life? Are these even
the answers? I don't presume to have any quick, easy solutions, if there are
any.
What would God have us do? How would (S) He have us behave? I'm not sure I can
answer that for anyone else but myself. Even then, I don't know the answer
quite yet, but as I continue to explore my faith and spirituality, why I'm here
and where I'm going, I think I'm slowly getting to it. Ever since my first days
in Cape Town and my struggles with my role as an privileged American missionary
and social worker, I've been worried about results. I've been concerned with
working hard and making sure that I was as productive as possible. I wanted to
get things done and fulfill the expectations I perceived were put on me by my
church and family, my employer, as well as the partner organization with whom I
work. I thought I'd be able to roll in as a social worker and help all the
hurting, down trodden children and families left behind by an abusive Apartheid
government.
I began to realize that those "results" are nothing more than my
westernized, American baggage that I carry with me. Results are nice, but in
the end, they really don't matter, at least not as much as we think they do.
After some time, I'm finally came to the conclusion that what I did isn't going
to change the world (at least not right away). I, as a single individual, won't
be able to work with all the street children and feed all the hungry and
starving people in South Africa (or the world for that matter). But, the fact
that I, as a single individual, took the time and have the courage to try and
do something about it, that's what counts! The idea that I am here to try is
more important than any measurable changes I might complete, either directly or
indirectly. I'm not advocating that everyone needs to become missionaries to go
out and save the world, or am I? I think we can all be missionaries, but we
don't necessarily have to leave the country to do it (there are plenty of
missionary opportunities in our own backyards if we look hard enough).
It's difficult for us as individuals to change the world all at once (or at
least, as Americans, we often look for those immediate results). We can work
together, as groups of individuals and accomplish great things. I also feel
that if we're mindful of what's going on around us and allow ourselves to be
"pushed" out of our comfortable little worlds to see the bigger picture,
change is possible. I feel that as long as I can stand up and speak out against
the injustices and sufferings of our fellow brothers and sisters that is what's
important for me.
Thanks
for listening as I try and sort this out in my head.