Contrast

One of the things I've noticed here that has totally floored me is the contrast in wealth within a small area. The hostel we are staying at is really nice. There is a beautiful beach just across the street and we are staying in an area where a lot of wealthy people have their beach homes. Yet, 5 minutes down the street where we have been working is completely overcome by poverty. The dirt roads are littered with trash and dead animals, the houses are built out of old pieces of metal scaffolding, and the barbed wire is pulled to the ground, causing more harm than protection. It's hard to comprehend how so much need and so much excess can exist so near to each other. 

This is a picture of the pool inside our absolutely gorgeous hotel. The paint is fresh, there are colorful hammocks hanging under grass huts, and the paved walkways are lined with palms. And yet, here is a picture of the conditions under which most of the people in the villiage live:

It's such a culture shock. I saw houses similar to that one the last time I was in Nicaragua, but I personally haven't come across them ever in America. It's like I live in a bubble, and always think of the poor as just that: "the poor." People assigned to a name. That's what they are: Poor. Okay. Move on. 

It's such an unfortunate attitude to have, because the wealth of love, soul and personality that these people have is indescribable. They are just as human and vivacious and alive as myself, just as sentimental, just as experiential, just as intellectual, comical and in need of love. Despite not being different from us, it's so easy to categorize them and ignore them. They're "the poor." Period. How can we be okay with ending the sentence there? There has to be more to the story!

During our devotional time today, we talked about Mark 1:40-44 when Jesus layed His hands on the leper to heal him.  I'd heard the story before but I'd never contemplated the fact that Jesus didn't actually need to physically use touch for healing. He can command the world with the power of His words...or probably even without them as well. Yet, He chose to use physical touch, connecting on a human level, to communicate His love. I feel like our fear of touch, of connection, of being on the same level as the poor, prevents us from reaching out to them. Whether it's a woman on a street corner, a forgotten elderly man in a nursing home, or a family in Nicaragua, they need  human relationality. Most importantly, they need the love of Jesus. I'm horrified sometimes that I can fall into such cold heartedness, especially considering all that Jesus has done for me. I'm a wretched sinner myself, still distracted by temptation, and yet Jesus continues to keep me from the death that I deserve. There are people both here in Nicaragua and home in the USA who are the walking dead. Their wages are death but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ. Keeping that good news to myself would be, and is, terribly selfish. (Romans 6:23)

 At least we're making progress. 😝