The Pilgrimage: June 2023

PREVENTION THERAPY FOR A CRACKED, HARD HEART

You've scrutinized them. I know you have. The person clutches a cardboard sign with beseeching eyes. He approaches your window at the red light, and you do your best not to make eye contact. “Why is this stinking red light taking so long?" you mutter to yourself. Your discomfort escalates with every second you attempt to avoid their gaze.

You feel guilty. Perhaps a bit annoyed. You might even feel blessed… After all, you are sitting in a car, and you have a decent roof over your head. You cannot remember the last time you had the grim misfortune of being hungry for an afternoon.

You think that is uncomfortable? Trying heading over to Africa or Asia.

Big-time uneasiness and internal dialogue. They often look like they were transported right out of a biblical narrative. I've seen blind Bartimaeus sitting beside the road. (See pic below. I met this man when I was in India earlier this year). I tried not to stare at the old lady lying on a cardboard wedge suffering from life-altering leprosy. Each one of them is dependent on a handout. Yep, I said it out loud… not a hand-up, but a handout.

I know, I know. We Americans have a challenging time giving handouts to people in need. I hear ya. Me, too. We have been discipled to think this way.

We all have a front-row seat to this internal, emotional wrestling match inside of us. "If I give them a handout, they will smoke it away. Drink themselves to death. I'll become a part of the problem.” We want to be responsible and provide long-term solutions, not be the schmucks who caved into raw emotion.

When I take teams to other countries, I encourage them to be careful about giving alms to people on the street. You want to use good judgment. For instance, I never suggest that you give to a begging child. While children can really tug the heartstrings, they're probably slaving for a parent who will benefit from their toil. Further, they might be purposely maimed to evoke more sympathy from you, their donor.

I give that speech to every team that I lead. Last year someone called me out when I gave a couple of starved children some leftover food in my bag while we were stuck in a traffic jam. "I thought you told us that was a bad idea!" someone blurted out.

Busted.

Feeling like a poor leader and a flaming hypocrite rolled into one neat package, I was momentarily stumped as to how to answer. They got me.

Or did they?

I was grateful for the gentle confrontation. It made me initiate an internal discourse –and that is always healthy. It cleanses the soul. I discovered that my answer was inexplicably simple. It keeps me human. Giving the handout keeps my heart fleshy. I needed to give to preserve my humanity. Giving to a person in distressing need—after observing thousands of people who lack the barest of essentials when I travel to some of the most desperate places on the planet--keeps my heart supple. The cure for a calloused soul. Keeps me from becoming jaded.

I broke my own self-imposed rule for a very self-preserving reason.

Folks, it's frighteningly easy to get a cast-iron heart. To stop caring when others suffer gross injustice—especially if they deserve it or are doing nothing to get themselves out of the mess they created. “They can change the narrative," we think, “but they choose not to."

Perhaps.

Sometimes we may have to break our common-sense rules. Those little self-erected laws and directives you can no longer rationalize or legitimately support, even with Scripture, may need to be set aside for a bit. You may have to face it—your heart is turning as frosty as super-chilled air in a walk-in freezer.

God knew we would suffer from this now and then. He depicts it as a heart of stone. Our hearts can fossilize over time.

Take a moment to introspect. If you know deep inside your psyche that you are no longer moved by another person's suffering or injustice, you may need to decide right now to break your rules. Do something over-the-top generous—and do it in secret. Call someone and ask for forgiveness for being a butt-head. Swallow your pride, do it now. Seek out someone in need—and show them some good old-fashioned love. Put their needs ahead of your own. Do it for them. Do it for God's Kingdom …and, perhaps, for yourself.

Here is an excellent prayer from Laura Jean Truman. Hang it in your home. Memorize it.

God,

Keep my anger from becoming meanness.

Keep my sorrow from collapsing into self-pity.

Keep my heart soft enough to keep breaking.

Keep my anger turned towards justice, not cruelty.

Remind me that all of this, every bit of it, is for love.

Keep me fiercely kind.

Amen.

For extra credit, check out Ezekiel 36:26.

To respond to any The Pilgrimage devotional, you can e-mail me directly at matt@forgottenchildren.org.

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