Hypochondriac

I can remember so vividly, walking down the streets with four other missionaries and a tackle box with medicinal supply. The vast majority of the severe wounds treated were simply addressed with standard cream, yet were received with the belief that all problems were now in the past. These open scars, battered bodies and warped bones were in dire need of serious medical attention and all they joyously received was an application of a generic medicine. And we were so happy to apply it, because these precious souls left to waste away on the street have overcome some unspoken barrier to even allow us into their lives for a few minutes. Many seem to hide their external hurts along with those fatal internal ones.

Back in the Rescue Home, the use of "chave 29" to open this cupboard door is like the moment jolly old saint Nicklaus opens his red bag; only this is the pharmaceutics cabinet. As soon as I open this door, a stream of injuries are suddenly brought to everyone's consciousness, and attention is demanded by ex-street boys protesting the severity of their ailments. Many of these injuries are minor cuts and bruises they received on the playground weeks ago, but now that the magic cupboard has been opened, revealing its seemingly endless supply of magical bandages and miraculous creams and sprays, the boys line up, most likely with the youngest first to reach us, asking to be attended to by doctor 'cupboard-opener'. These boys have encountered a form of love and affection and are ready to milk it for all that they can.

However, I can't help but wonder if it's gone too far, and this unnecessary application of medicine inhibits a healthy self-image for them. Do they see themselves as broken people inside, too? Does this explain many of our issues with the boys? Is this external anxiety mirrored internally? Even though we are helping them grow in every way we are aware of and that love and discipline allows for, do they still look at healed wounds inside their mauled hearts and demand scars? Are these wonderfully loved boys rejecting love because their broken and damaged self-image of wounded needs to be retained to maintain any familiar feeling or understanding to their lives?

As always, this makes me think about how I have fallen prey to this apparent human behaviour. Do I see myself as a broken person in areas that I am healed? I have read verse after verse after verse of how God defines me, and have often, repeatedly, struggled to believe it. I have even flat out rejected it as idealistic, and impossible. I can not be holy and blameless, no matter how many times I recite Colossians 1:22. It's an antonym of my very obvious sinful nature! I am weak, prone to failure, falling very short of the mark repeatedly. Abandoning God's love, embracing my humanity. My laziness propels me to new depths; deserved depths. Depths that missionaries, or pastors, or christians, or any normal person should ever venture. Who would dare venture anywhere near me, let alone consider a fragile, incapable, and obviously stubborn soul like me to be of any value? A soft voice whispers some necessary words:

If I ascend to heaven, you are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there! - Psalm 139:8

God created man in his own image...and saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good. - Genesis 1:27, 31

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. - 1 Corinthians 5:17

But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. - 1 Peter 2:9

...be transformed by the renewal of your mind... - Romans 12:2

I take the bandages and redundantly apply them to the boys' sores, knowing that this will tip the scales and cause them to win this psychological fight... for today. But I also know we will be here the next time.

 

Justice

I've watched as the police herd over 100 homeless druggies like cattle into streets more concealed so that their unsightly behaviour doesn't inconvenience the wealthy and sober. The ministers of justice doing their civic duty by hiding those who have been treated the most unjustly so that the unaffected may carry on in their ignorance of a world in dire need of action.

Something I've been thinking a lot about lately is justic; It's place and importance in our lives. I'm sure justice is amongst your highest priorities, whether you actively pursue it or not. It's the reason that you get angry in the traffic, the reason you vote, or read the news or even include yourself in discussions about the poor. These sorts of emotional reactions throw us into one of two categories for each experience. Either we're a part of the offended category who respond to the advancement of others with a bewildered, "why??", or we're a part of the favoured, in which case we feel the unnatural touch of our humility as we argue about the necessary equalization of the scales for those who don't know the joys that we do.

We look up to people who we believe are the best at instilling justice in our perspectives. They know when to defend us, or when to reproach us, giving our consciences that peace that we're not being taken advantage of.

Why is this on my mind? I went for a walk through "Crack-land" this week, and unfortunately got to see street after street just lined with people who are sitting on the sidewalk, puffing on their crack pipes, sleeping or having conversations with an imaginary person. It's a sight to make anyone cringe, while the city continues to buzz with ambition and productivity (I was not permitted to take pictures, because it induces a violent reaction from the areas inhabitants). I was walking through these streets with a team of 5 people who were just addressing the cuts and scratches of anyone who was sober enough to realize they could get help.

My thought the whole time was, "what if this was me? What would I do?" But for it to be me, I can't just place myself into their situation with my background. I need to inherit their background. I need to relive their sources of pain from which they all began looking for an escape. That is almost impossible to do, because each person would have a story that is worth a National Geographic special on. I saw one boy who was being arrested by the cops. I don't know why they were arresting him, but I had heard the story of how he came to be on the streets. I must warn you, this isn't charming:

He lived with his mom, sister and step-dad. In a world of poverty, he didn't have many people to rely on, but his step-dad was his role model. He loved him, and wanted to be like him one day. Other people may not have been trust-worthy in this survival race, but to him, this guy was. Then one day, he came home to find out that his dad had raped his sister and stabbed his mom. Needless to say, his world was crushed. The only person that he had ever looked to that could pursue justice in this world was now the very person to cause the biggest injustice he had experienced. What would that do to any person?

He lived on the streets in determined rebellion of any guidance an adult would try give him. He simply was not interested. How would I react to that situation? Would I also not end up on the street trying to escape reality? Trying to get away from a world so disgusting?

So why does God let this kind of thing happen? Why is there so much injustice, if He's a good God? If He really loves 'the world' so much that He sent His only Son, surely He wouldn't allow this to happen! However, that's taking a very narrow perspective on life. If God didn't allow the consequences of humanity's despicable actions to take their terrible course, then there would be no motive or change to pursue justice as a community. We're sadly living in a world that believes less and less in community and more in the individual. As a result we're losing this larger picture perspective, as well as our effectiveness to pursue justice, but that doesn't mean that we can offload the blame onto a loving God, because I can promise you one thing:

No matter what street you try hide your inconveniences in, God is there in full view of them. He sees them even when you choose not to, and His heart hurts because of this. He has chosen us to be His only plan, His only response, His hands and feet, and we've chosen to hide ourselves from it and blame HIm. I believe in the potential of this world, though, that we can all actively engage in justice, and by the power of God, become the change on earth that we've been praying for! Do you?