The past few months have made my heart heavy. It started by reading a book about poverty, full of facts that made my heart bleed and my thoughts to become seriously affected. In the midst of the reading, sweet family and close friends found themselves in serious circumstances, from health to finances to marriage to safety. My children started asking questions about Palestinian/Israeli conflicts. The apartments across the street burned down.
HEAVY.
In college, one of my favorite things to do was go to the coffee shop with Nicole. We would talk the hard issues in a way that sometimes felt unnerving - like these big problems would never be solved - and sometimes felt empowering - like we could figure out a way to make the world a better place.
These days, I am feeling old, fighting for hope. With the nature of Mark's job, we are part of stories where people are in desperate situations, feeling like they are all alone. We get calls from people who just don't feel like they have anyone else to call. But this week, when one of those calls of desperation came, we weren't the only ones they called - there were good friends, speaking truth to the desperate. And they could, because they had been there all along.
And I felt hope.
So often, the world spends time arguing what must be done to fix a problem. Discussion is good, but I feel like we often are just yelling at each other, trying to convince each other of black and white polarities that don't actually exist. Like action cannot be taken until the perfect solution has been reached, a reality that will never fully happen this side of heaven.
We cannot waste all of our time talking. Or waiting until there is a clean-cut action plan. Or judging others who dare to help, even if not perfectly. We have to love. Take risks. Get involved.
We can stand holding signs that say, "Choose Life!" But if we do not support mothers in that choice and beyond, we are just words.
We can tear up at commercials of starving children in Africa. But if we do not recognize our role of responsibility, we are just emotions.
We can shake our heads at marriages coming apart at the seams. But if we do not pray, we are accountable spectators.
We can talk with worry about the person whose sudden health condition threatens employment, everyday life, childcare. But if we do not shovel, or call, or take a meal, we are empty care.
Dear friends, do you think you’ll get anywhere in this if you learn all the right words but never do anything? Does merely talking about faith indicate that a person really has it? For instance, you come upon an old friend dressed in rags and half-starved and say, “Good morning, friend! Be clothed in Christ! Be filled with the Holy Spirit!” and walk off without providing so much as a coat or a cup of soup—where does that get you? Isn’t it obvious that God-talk without God-acts is outrageous nonsense? ~James 2:14-17, The Message
Wise words. Yours and James' both.
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