I’ve been reading a book called Blue Like Jazz recently. It’s a nice book, about God and spirituality and faith, somewhat intellectual and fairly post-modern. I think quite a few people have read it, and it’s kind of a trendy Christian read. It was recommended to me by lots of people, and half price at a bookstore I visited, so I bought it, and now I’m about half way through.
Somewhere just before the middle of this book, the author, Donald Miller, discusses passion and belief, and why passion without any belief is nothing, and gives us nothing. He talks about how our faith, our belief, should be passionate, and should concern us with many things, like justice and truth, and how Christ would walk through a fallen American world. I agree with this. But I think there is something more than passion.
I was reading this book the other day at a café across town. I had a fruit shake and a little snack, and enjoyed the shade and the quiet, and read about God, and belief, and one man’s thoughts on these things. When I got up to leave, or rather, just before, three little kids—one girl, two boys, all under 13—started begging. The girl took my water and one of the boys slurped down the rest of my fruit shake when I gave the okay. They wanted 1000 riel (a quarter) or even 100 riel (around 3 cents). They were dirty and persistent. I said no. The café where I was eating, and several places nearby are set up as NGOs, working for the poor in Phnom Penh, and I’m wary of begging children because it is an outlet for trafficking. In other words, the kids may not see the money that they “earn.”
I tried to say no nicely. The kids would have none of it. They asked me for ice cream, and the boys climbed onto the back of my bike, as if I would be willing to take them somewhere. They pleaded and smiled, and were so dirty and heartbreaking, and I refused. For some reason, I couldn’t reach into my pocket and help them. I wanted to buy them some food, but despite standing outside a café, I couldn’t, and I don’t know why. It was terrible. As I finally drove away, I had tears in my eyes. The only word I could think of at the time was compassion.
Compassion means a feeling of deep sympathy and sorrow for another who is stricken by misfortune, accompanied by a strong desire to alleviate the suffering. The word appears all over the Bible (I even looked it up) and usually in reference to God. The psalms are littered with mentions of a God who is gracious and compassionate. Some of the darkest places in the Old Testament—while Jeremiah laments, when Hosea is married to a prostitute, as a bitter Jonah cries out in the belly of a great fish—mention compassion. It describes Jesus, who sees crowds, has compassion, and heals, feeds, and cares for them.
Recently, as I was traveling to one of the provinces, we crossed a river, and a little boy spent nearly the entire 20 minutes we were on board the ferry banging on my car window, pleading for money. As we drove away, his greasy fingerprints were visible on the other side of the glass. Perhaps I can choose to self-righteously explain my reluctance to help these kids by saying that I don’t just want to help them with a meal today; I want to bring healing to a system that leaves them on the street in the first place. That sounds like a good excuse, but it doesn’t put food in their stomachs. Maybe the true answer is that I am jaded, and I feel like 1000 riel for each of these four kids (a total of a dollar) is simply a drop in the bucket of the ocean of poverty I know exists here.
This is why I cannot accept that passion is enough. I looked up the word “passion” and found it mentioned only 7 times in the NIV, all in reference to sin. Passionate beliefs are still capable (as my own behavior suggests) of looking hungry children in the face and walking away. If we believe with passion the truth of the Gospel, it is not enough for the hungry, for the poor, for the lost. I think if we believe with compassion, though, there may be hope. I think it’s the second part of the definition that makes the difference: strong desire to alleviate the suffering. It is this desire, to couple belief with action for the oppressed, the broken, and the hurting that will move us to help, to feed, and to care.
Somewhere just before the middle of this book, the author, Donald Miller, discusses passion and belief, and why passion without any belief is nothing, and gives us nothing. He talks about how our faith, our belief, should be passionate, and should concern us with many things, like justice and truth, and how Christ would walk through a fallen American world. I agree with this. But I think there is something more than passion.
I was reading this book the other day at a café across town. I had a fruit shake and a little snack, and enjoyed the shade and the quiet, and read about God, and belief, and one man’s thoughts on these things. When I got up to leave, or rather, just before, three little kids—one girl, two boys, all under 13—started begging. The girl took my water and one of the boys slurped down the rest of my fruit shake when I gave the okay. They wanted 1000 riel (a quarter) or even 100 riel (around 3 cents). They were dirty and persistent. I said no. The café where I was eating, and several places nearby are set up as NGOs, working for the poor in Phnom Penh, and I’m wary of begging children because it is an outlet for trafficking. In other words, the kids may not see the money that they “earn.”
I tried to say no nicely. The kids would have none of it. They asked me for ice cream, and the boys climbed onto the back of my bike, as if I would be willing to take them somewhere. They pleaded and smiled, and were so dirty and heartbreaking, and I refused. For some reason, I couldn’t reach into my pocket and help them. I wanted to buy them some food, but despite standing outside a café, I couldn’t, and I don’t know why. It was terrible. As I finally drove away, I had tears in my eyes. The only word I could think of at the time was compassion.
Compassion means a feeling of deep sympathy and sorrow for another who is stricken by misfortune, accompanied by a strong desire to alleviate the suffering. The word appears all over the Bible (I even looked it up) and usually in reference to God. The psalms are littered with mentions of a God who is gracious and compassionate. Some of the darkest places in the Old Testament—while Jeremiah laments, when Hosea is married to a prostitute, as a bitter Jonah cries out in the belly of a great fish—mention compassion. It describes Jesus, who sees crowds, has compassion, and heals, feeds, and cares for them.
Recently, as I was traveling to one of the provinces, we crossed a river, and a little boy spent nearly the entire 20 minutes we were on board the ferry banging on my car window, pleading for money. As we drove away, his greasy fingerprints were visible on the other side of the glass. Perhaps I can choose to self-righteously explain my reluctance to help these kids by saying that I don’t just want to help them with a meal today; I want to bring healing to a system that leaves them on the street in the first place. That sounds like a good excuse, but it doesn’t put food in their stomachs. Maybe the true answer is that I am jaded, and I feel like 1000 riel for each of these four kids (a total of a dollar) is simply a drop in the bucket of the ocean of poverty I know exists here.
This is why I cannot accept that passion is enough. I looked up the word “passion” and found it mentioned only 7 times in the NIV, all in reference to sin. Passionate beliefs are still capable (as my own behavior suggests) of looking hungry children in the face and walking away. If we believe with passion the truth of the Gospel, it is not enough for the hungry, for the poor, for the lost. I think if we believe with compassion, though, there may be hope. I think it’s the second part of the definition that makes the difference: strong desire to alleviate the suffering. It is this desire, to couple belief with action for the oppressed, the broken, and the hurting that will move us to help, to feed, and to care.
1 comment:
Professional development and most missions leaders tell us not to give money to the begging, especially children in developing countries, b/s if we do, we reinforce the system that keeps them in poverty. I reluctantly agree. But, like you so well articulate, my soul wants to respond to their need, consequences be damned. Everytime I'm in this same situation, I honestly don't know what to do... Thanks for being honest and sharing this conflict we feel.
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