We may not be able to solve all the world’s problems, but we all have something to give. We have talents, skills, and resources to contribute to the cause. We all have a voice, no matter how quiet, no matter how frail. The weak are made strong in the hands of a mighty God.
Photo Credit: Free photo: Scarf, Close, Market, Colorful – Free Image on Pixabay …
We see the need, we feel compelled. We hear the statistics, we feel overwhelmed. What can one average person do?
That’s how I feel when I listen to news about human trafficking and other injustices in our world. Powerless. Voiceless. Insignificant.
There has to be enough professionals out there to answer the cry of our ailing world. Certainly there are people far more talented. And the rich have infinite resources.
Yet with all the professional, talented, rich people in the world, there is still no end to suffering. Either those with such great resources are not answering the call, or skill and wealth aren’t enough to solve our problems. Or both.
One day Jesus was preaching and people were hungry. Thousands of them. No one in the crowd felt they could meet the need. But a little boy contributed five loaves and two fish, and Jesus multiplied it to feed the multitudes.
I imagine that boy felt powerless, voiceless, and insignificant for much of his life. He thought he was just…average. And yet, his small sacrifice multiplied to make a miraculous difference.
We may not be able to solve all the world’s problems, but we all have something to give. We have talents, skills, and resources to contribute to the cause. We all have a voice, no matter how quiet, no matter how frail. The weak are made strong in the hands of a mighty God.
“Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy.” (Proverbs 31:8-9)
“But let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream!” (Amos 5:24)
I used to be funny. Really, I did. You wouldn’t know it, because I usually couldn’t remember how the joke started, let alone the punch line. Still, I loved to laugh and to make people laugh. But somewhere along the way, I saw the world for what it is. Went on a few mission trips, saw the depths of poverty. Lived in the inner city surrounded by gang violence and drug addiction and children alone on the streets at one in the morning. Learned about human trafficking and saw it happening before my very eyes when I was powerless to intervene. And I stopped laughing so much.
Most specifically, I remember my first trip to Amsterdam. The first day, on a tour bus viewing some famous landmarks, knowing there were slaves in chains behind the façade. The tour guide made a casual remark about how free and happy their society was, noting with pride their legalization of prostitution. And I thought—doesn’t she know that the majority of these women are victims of human trafficking? Deceived into the lifestyle by the promise of good and reputable work. Torn from their families by a bold-faced lie. Abducted. Exploited. Enslaved.
In the evenings our church group went to the place where girls as young as 12 were imprisoned behind glass doors, in hopes of leading them to freedom. One of the girls we talked to broke down in tears because she wanted to get out of there but was afraid her pimp would beat her to death if she left. Most nights, I went back to my room and spent the night crying.
It’s not that I spend every day all mopey and depressed. If you know my kids, you know how impossible that would be. They’re a reminder of the good things in this world—those things worth fighting for. But knowing the evils I’ve seen exist in rampant measure around the world, there is always a heaviness burdening my heart. And I can’t let it go.
There is so much to be grateful for, and yet I’m reminded of how even Jesus wept. He sat on the hillside overlooking the city, longing to gather its people in his arms. Grieved over the hypocrisy of the religious and the brokenness of the sinners. He wept for the things of the world that are not as they should be, because humankind insists on living for self, which inevitably leads to suffering. True love grieves, knowing that life and love could be so much more than what they’ve become in human hands. True love hurts, torn by the sharp-edged pieces as we join in the struggle to mend our broken world. There’s a time for joy, yes. But there’s also a time to grieve. I still want my sense of humor back. But I never want to forget the pain that reminds me what true love is.
True Love…GRIEVES (from This Life & Beyond’s Series #50ShadesOfTrueLove)
So often, we’re looking for the big, the extravagant, the noticeably noble. We want to be significant, and we perceive significance as something evident to the masses. Yet what if greatness has a humbler definition?
Photo Credit: Snowflake | Snowflake macro shot, february 2011. B… | Flickr
where are you, God
in the midst of the darkness?
we’re crying to you
in this desolate land
war rages around us
we’re searching for answers
to things
we can never understand
where are you, God
do you see our tears falling?
do you hear our prayers
and feel our pain?
the world is in anguish
our children are dying
the clouds of refreshing
withhold their rain
where are you God?
we’re hurting and hopeless
wounded and broken
and in distress
our own neighbors killing
destroying, devouring
can You bring forth beauty
from our hateful mess?
God, you came down
from light into darkness
born in the shadows
of earth’s darkest night
the forces of evil
releasing their fury
swords bent on destruction
consuming all life
you spoke to the madness
with love and compassion
to ears fallen deaf
in a world filled with strife
brought healing, redemption
though you were rejected
crushed by our hate
while releasing your light
and now you are here
in the midst of our suffering
calling to us
“don’t settle for this”
we’re made for much more
than what we’ve accepted
and this world is not
all that there is
so though earth give way
and mountains shall crumble
and all that we’ve trusted
one day will fail
the curtain’s been torn
between light and darkness
and in the end, light
will always prevail
(originally posted on the Nightlight Blog)
This Thanksgiving season, we’ll be putting a lot of things in our stomachs. The table will be full one moment; our mouths will be full the next. Before we know it, we’ll be more stuffed than the turkey. But before we put all that extra stuffing into our bodies, why don’t we consider what we can put into our thanks?
“Thanks” is something that’s meant to be given. Sometimes it will be easy; sometimes it won’t. It’s easy to be grateful when everything is going as we desire. But what if things aren’t happening just like we hoped they would? What if the “table” is empty of a mouthwatering feast, and filled only with bitter herbs?
In God’s word, we learn that thanksgiving will sometimes be a sacrifice: “…let us offer the sacrifice of praise to God continually, that is, the fruit of our lips giving thanks to his name” (Hebrews 13:15). When we’re going through fiery trials, it can be a challenge to maintain a heart of gratitude. Giving thanks in difficult times may be the hardest thing we’re asked to do, and yet it is the very thing that will help lift the burden of a heavy heart.
When our prayers have not been answered as we expected, or in the timing we hoped for, we can always remember the words of Helen Keller: “When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but we often look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us.” I’ve learned from experience that every closed door leads to a greater open door, and that for every unfulfilled longing a deeper need is met. Knowing this can help us to be grateful even for the closed doors in our lives.
Even if all we have has been taken from us, no one and nothing can take away a heart of gratitude. We can understand the importance of being thankful, but it’s not genuine until we actually GIVE thanks—especially when it’s difficult. This Thanksgiving and beyond, let’s celebrate by putting the giving into our thanks.
(Originally posted on the Tears of Joy blog)
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