• ἐλάχιστος • the least of these •
For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me...and the King will answer, 'Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.' Matthew 25:35-40
Perfection was never the goal. If it was I would never really get anywhere.
Solving hunger or poverty— thats not the goal either.
Cause I can’t fix it. I’m human. I’m replaceable, broken and imperfect.
I often suffer from my own spiritual poverty when I cling to things for my life energy instead God. The people in true poverty— oh how much richer they often are than me. How they see their own brokenness. They see their desperate needs, and realize that everything is a gift from a perfect savior
But I stay busy to ignore my emptiness. I’m not hearing from God? Let me read more books. I’ll do more good. I’ll go on coffee dates, and then church. I’ll pour all of my self and my identity into work, into school, or into a project.
All the while I fall farther away from brokenness and even farther away from grace.
But I think I'm getting closer to perfection, that I’m doing something for God. Surely he loves me more when my feet are covered in dust, while I hold orphans, feed the hungry and give to the needy. How could he not?
But even that leaves me so empty.
Seeing great pain is so overwhelming. Poverty hurts my heart— it makes my stomach churn and my overwhelment come out in frustrated tears.
You can’t save the world.
I hear those words from my savior, and in the voices of my sweet teammates.
But I come home and start organizing pictures, making spreadsheets, planning events, writing letters, and writing post after post.
My heart is breaking into a million pieces over the things I have seen, and my friends who are hurting and hungry. I have to do something.
How can I just sit here? Then I hear the words again.
Hannah, you can’t save the world.
I’m human. I’m replaceable. I’m broken. And I’m imperfect.
So I don’t really have some profound point for you. I wish I could write you a mushy blog that would make you want to jump on the next flight to Honduras, but I’ve tried that about 10 times and thrown them all in the trash. I’ve got nothing.
So thats what I’m giving— my nothing.
I’m taking it step by step and trusting that he is so much more able than me.
He already saved the world.
So I’ll give until it hurts, hold a hand, say a prayer, pour out my heart, and trust that in the end, he is able to handle the rest.