When I look at these little feet . . .

I took over 1000 pictures in Roatan last week, but this is the image that has stayed with me.  Maybe because we helped fit more than 400 school kids with Toms shoes, and I held lots of little feet, but I think it’s more than that.

When I look at these little feet, I wonder what his life is like.  I wonder what it is like to walk in his shoes.  There is really no way that I can ever understand.

With the help of Toms shoes, we were able to meet an immediate need (kids are not allowed to go to public school without a full uniform), and in this same area, we distributed water filters so that he will also have clean water to drink.  But there are so many more needs, and so many more children.

When I come home after a trip like this, I find myself suddenly aware of things I take for granted. I thank God every time I turn on the faucet and have clean water (and hot showers).  I am in awe when open the stocked fridge and pantry.  I feel guilt when I enter my closet (as big as some homes we visited), knowing that women were standing in line to receive one pair of underwear, one pair of flip flops, or a small bottle of shampoo.

It’s overwhelming – the feeling of both gratitude and of guilt.  I don’t know why I was born in America, with freedom and opportunities that I have taken for granted, born to parents who love me and were able to meet my every need. I’ll never understand how I won the “cosmic lottery” (a term Rachel Held Evans used in Faith Unraveled).

There’s no question that God expects us to be a “channel” of what we receive (“Freely you have received; freely give.” Matt. 10:8;  “For everyone to whom much is given, from him much will be required” Luke 12:48), but I believe it should be with joy.  I don’t want to give because I feel guilt or shame.  Who wants to be on the receiving end of such a selfish gift?  I want to give as an overflow of joy and gratitude, because I trust God enough to take a risk.  So I have to grapple with the tensions and pray for the right perspective. Guilt turns me inward; gratitude forces me to look outward.

“A wild heart can beat with gratitude and lean in to pure joy without denying the struggle in the world.”  (Brene Brown, Braving the Wilderness)

I think God helped prepare me for this, because on the flight to Roatan, I started a book called Of Mess and Moxie by Jen Hatmaker (“divine coincidences” often come through books I’m reading).  During a trip to Ethiopia, she wrestled with these same feelings:  “It often feels unchristian to enjoy life, especially knowing what we know and seeing what we see.  Appropriately, we are deeply connected to human suffering and setting wrongs right. . . . But wisdom also embraces the rest of the plan, which includes a beautiful world and beautiful people and beautiful delights meant to be enjoyed.”

Yes, my heart is moved with concern and compassion and a terrible sense of inadequacy.  But my heart also soars to help, to connect, to look someone in the eye and share a smile or a high five or a hug.

     

So this is going to sound weird and maybe even selfish, but those dusty, precious little feet in the photo are, for me, an impetus for joy.

Sitting on the ground, holding those little feet, I can see past myself and my small worldview, and realize that we are all connected.

We share humanity, with all the darkness and the light that comes with it.

We share God’s wild, mysterious love for us.

– Seeing an alternate side to things creates new awareness and gratitude in my heart.

— And gratitude is the gateway to joy.

—– And when joy overflows, I am eager to share it.

——- And the best way to share it is by giving and serving.

———- And giving to others (in time, talents, treasures, etc.) creates more gratitude.

————- And gratitude is the gateway to joy.

And the cycle continues . . . an impetus for joy.

Maybe I can give a child something useful, like a pair of shoes or a water filter or school supplies, but he/she gives me far more.

Those little feet, and beautiful smiles have much to teach me . . . about God, about life.  They reveal the empty way “man so foolishly guards his nothing” (paraphrased from Richard Rohr) while missing out on true abundance that can only come when we are vulnerable and connected.
“This world is hard and scary, and it is also phenomenal and gorgeous and thrilling and amazing. Reader, there is a middle place, holy ground, where we learn to embrace the fasting and the feast, for both are God ordained.  There is time to press into sacrifice, resistance, self-denial, deferment.  There is also time to open wide our arms to adventure, laughter, fulfillment, gladness. A Christian in tune with God’s whole character neither regards herself as too important or too unworthy to enjoy this life.  Yes, we are part of God’s plan to heal the world, but we are also sons and daughters of the family.  We are not just the distributors of God’s abundant mercies but also their recipients.”  (Jen Hatmaker, Of Mess and Moxie)

May we all recognize and revel in “God’s abundant mercies” and then share them lavishly.

The people of Roatan shared themselves lavishly with us last week, and I pray for the courage to do the same.