Boxes

On Saturday I had breakfast with one of my closest friends, Emily. On the way to the restaurant I passed a man who was evidently homeless. He was dirty, disheveled, and was carrying several very full bags. I felt sorry for him and offered up a quick prayer that God would bless him. I was content to go on with my day

...but then he came into the restaurant

He took up an entire table for four and simply sat there the entire time we were there and apparently stayed after that. He didn't buy anything, just sat there. I found myself getting annoyed. He was not a paying customer and had no right to be in the restaurant with me, someone who was eating. After all, he was dirty. 

It took me a minute to realize the error of my thoughts. I was fine with him when he was far away (at least the other side of the road), but when he came close my attitude changed.

Not long ago I was talking with a friend and sharing about my love for short term missions trips. I got really honest and said that in some ways I find them easier than service projects around my area. I said that I can go and make a small impact, but then put the suffering and devastation that I've seen into a little box labeled "Haiti" or "Belize" and essentially walk away from it. Certainly I pray for the people and the situations, but I don't have to see it everyday. 

Recently I've realized that this needs to change somehow. I've been exploring ways that I can live in an area and make an impact there. And it terrifies me. But something has to change.

An image of an IDP Camp from the box marked "Haiti"