Dumpster Revelation

      






       There are so many moments when I believe that God is speaking to us but our lives are so full of noise that we don't hear Him even when we claim to be trying. Then there are times when His voice is like a freight train. When there is silence all around except for Him telling you this one thing that He really wants you to get. 


   We had just finished gallivanting around the land in the woods we hope to purchase in the near future. We had gone there to let the kids run wild and toss some sticks into the creek as we plotted and pondered about the direction of the house we want to build and where we might walk into our future front door. We made a mess of ourselves and my man likes to keep his ride a.k.a "his office" looking good so we pulled into the car wash.
     The kids had gone quiet as the fascination of all that water coming at them was just enough to provide a few hushed seconds. I saw the bags next to the dumpster and she was standing there smoking a very skinny cigarette. He was inside handing her random cans and whatever they might accept at the recycling center for some petty cash. They had been keeping company with those clothes for a few days at least. I wasn't just looking at them from the wet windshield a few feet away, but we were peering at each other from different worlds.


I am so sorry.


For all of the thoughts I have had about people like you.
For suggesting you should get a job instead of a few dollars from me that I would otherwise spend on something frivolous at Target.
For thinking that you made all the wrong choices.
For blaming your lack of faith.
For judging you as if you were the lesser person.
For not wanting to be near you because you are nothing like me.


I feel like I belong in that dumpster and yet here I am in this souped up Tundra.


Why?


I could be that woman. I could have had a dad who abused me from a young age. I could have had an alcoholic mother. I could have laid my head to rest in a shanty and only eaten beans and rice every single day.


The weight of the responsibility of blessing lingers. 


I get out of the truck and I want to make small talk but I am at a loss for words. I don't even know what I said but I did smile and give the lady some money. Then I walked right back into my world feeling ashamed at how uncomfortable I am around poor people who are dirty and stinky. 


Pursue the poor. They are my heart.


Those are the words I heard. The same words I have been reading in the scriptures. They are everywhere. I didn't hear, "Just give them a little money so that you will feel better about yourself," but PURSUE which implies work, love, effort, not a garbage bag full of stuff and a drop off scenario. 


Actually being like Jesus is much different than talking about Jesus.

Preaching to myself...