Our visit to America for the holidays has been a wonderful treat, full of family, friends, food, and fun. And though it’s been a restful time of reconnecting with the people and places we love, our beloved comfort culture sure has a way of breeding apathy in even the most zealous hearts.
At one point during the first weeks of January, I remember playing Mario Cart on the Nintendo Wii with a smattering of family members. As I rounded a colorful bend on a fantasy track within the Coconut Mall, my parents’ landline rang and the caller ID voice indicator said in mechanical monotone, “Call from [pause] unknown.” International numbers don’t register on our American call systems, and sure enough, a brother was calling in from Uganda to give an update from the front lines.
I wedged the phone between my shoulder and ear and continued to steer my standard cart up giant escalators as the annoying sounds of Baby Peach wafted down from the top left portion of the screen. “Hey Brother! Great to hear from you!” I offered as I gave him less than my full attention. After the usual greetings, my friend mentioned that he was participating in a week long fast to start out the new year in fervant prayer. Knowing that “fasting” for Ugandans means absolutely no food and no water, I timidly put down my steering wheel and pulled out of the race, musing over the last ten days of gorging myself on multiple breakfasts, gourmet coffee, fast food, and home-cooked Christmas dinner every night.
He talked hurredly, precious airtime eating away by the second. I knew this was an important call. “My children are in the hospital with malaria,” he began, “and I wanted to use the money I owe you to pay their medical bills.” Of course I gave him the free use of the $30 and he continued his string of bad news: “Sister Agaba’s husband just died.” I was shocked to hear that this elderly pastor who seemed to be in good health just weeks before was no longer present on the earth. Agaba graduated from our leadership school in December, and her husband had been at her side celebrating.
“The fisherman told me someone has stolen their nets…” I hung my head as I put myself in the shoes of this desperate band of men so close to breaking free from a survival lifestyle. We had put together the co-op and loaned them money for a boat while they had scrimped and saved for months to supply the nets. Just weeks into their venture, now they were back to square one.
We traded some words of encouragement and reiterated our mutual trust in the sovereignty and provision of our gracious God, and he was gone to tend to his sick children. I slowly put down the phone, having suddenly lost my appetite for the Coconut Mall.
How easy it is for us who live in luxurious America to forget the desperate needs of our impoverished world, so hungry both naturally and spiritually, while we waste costly time, energy, and resources on more and better comforts. God teach us to remember our brothers and sisters who suffer. Change our very lifestyles that they might taste eternal life.
This post is powerful and hard-hitting.
We need to live . . . but not in lethargy.
And btw, as we all know, you and Virginia are still on the front lines (!!!!), even when you’re here in America.
God bless you, Brent.
Ann