Haves and Have-nots

I've been reluctant to speak on the subject of poverty.  There are so many ways to be poor.  God has blessed me so that I have rarely been poor in any way.  I have always had food, clothes, family, home, love.  Many times I see pictures of India or hear stories of India that dwell on the poverty -- especially monetary -- that so many face here.  I feel that sometimes these stories paint a dim picture of this land that has so many beauties, blessings, and strengths.  I don't want to make the mistake of singling out one aspect of this place and missing the many things that are right and good and true here.  So, usually, I want to talk about those things.  Today, however, my heart is heavy.  I have done wrong.  Here's my confession:

There are many people in need here.  There are many beggars, street children, shanty towns, etc. compared to a large part of the world.  Coming here, you really can't miss it.  Still, it is becoming somewhat normal.  We are warned by locals: Don't give the beggars money.  They don't use it well.  They have unions.  The street kids could be in school.  They don't get to keep it.  It will encourage them to continue begging and not seek work.  We are warned by savvy expats here: If you give someone something, it will enable them.  What will they do when you are gone?  People will try to take advantage of you.  All true and good advice, I'm sure.  So much so that I am getting a bit hard.

When I meet someone and have a nice conversation with them, getting excited that they enjoy my company only to hear a story of hardship (true or not) and a request for money, I get a bit hard.  When I see the same faces begging in the market each time I am there, I get a bit hard.  When I hear stories of people hurting themselves or others, lying, etc. so they will seem more pathetic a case for begging, I get hard.  When I try giving food to someone who is begging and they continue insisting for money, I get hard.

So, the other day, our family took a ride on the motorcycle to get some food from a nearby restaurant (read: street counter).  It took the restaurant a bit of time to fill our order.  Well, we make quite a scene wherever we go with our 3 blonde, blue-eyed children and people always read: MONEY.  Of course, we have better food, clothes, home, and transportation than we need to survive.  Here that reads: RICH.  Anyone who is reading this who has those things is monetarily rich in the majority world.  So, it wasn't long before an old woman, leaning on a cane, came over with her can.  Chris took a little money and put it in her can.  Then I saw a boy, probably around 8 years old.  He was leaning on someone's car window and begging.  He was very persistent.  So much so that the man got out of the car and started yelling at the boy.  As he went away, I noticed two things.  Judgement was rising in my heart towards the owner of the car.  Did he have to be so cruel?  Also, the boy had some kind of mental disability.  I continued watching as the owner of the shop started to chase him away.  The boy asked for water and the shop owner allowed him to come and get some.  Ah, I thought, the shop owner is doing the right thing.  Then, he started making his way towards us.  I didn't have my purse on me and don't like giving money to kids.  Remembering that they don't usually get to keep it, I prefer to give food if I have it.  Chris was returning with our supper.  Instead of stopping him and asking him for some of our food, I started to load the kids on the bike.  At the same time, another older boy came up and said -- in very clear English -- "Give me some money."  "No!" I said rather irritatedly.  As I sat down, I realized I was sitting on the small boy's hand because he had grabbed onto our motorcycle.  I yelled at him to let go.  Then Chris started the bike and we drove off.

I laid my head down to sleep tonight and this was what I remembered.  The look on that boy's face as we drove away.  He was shamed for having touched me.  He was hungry.  He had to work harder at life than most people.  And tonight, he's probably sleeping in an alleyway or on the street somewhere.

So, I ask myself, Do I care if I am taken advantage of?  Do I care if I enable this boy?  Do I care if others see me as an easy dime?  Or do I care that I didn't show Jesus' heart to that boy.  "Why not rather be wronged?  Why not rather be cheated?"  I Corinthians 6:7

I could have gone without my dinner that night.  Heck, I had enough food in our house to make myself another dinner.  I could have withstood the other rude boy for a few seconds while I helped that kid.  I could have shown him a second's grace.  I cried and prayed for that boy tonight.  God, help me do better . . . 

Yes, I know there is grace, I know I won't always get it right.  That's why I'm sharing.  People want to think we're doing some great thing trying to come here and start businesses that bring blessing to these communities.  People want to think we are more strong or smart or brave or compassionate than most.  I want to debunk those myths.  I want to let you know that we are flawed, growing, grace-saved people who just so happen to live in India.

ARRRGGGHHHHH!  Pirates!