In order to keep myself emotionally and psychologically healthy, I've been encouraged to keep up good hobbies to help myself relax after work. So last week I finally found a shop where I had my violin repaired. As I exited the music store located in a wealthier part of town, I was approached by a legless man who rolled himself toward me on a low cart and held out his hand. My heart broke a little bit for him, as it always does whenever I see a beggar. --for the misery of his physical situation and the brokenness of his spiritual and emotional situation.
Not knowing what I really can do to help, I often pass by beggars, ignoring them lest I give them false hope that I will give them money. I've heard enough stories about the bad ways beggars' profit is used to know I should not give money. Lately, I've started taking small bags of rice to give to them. But last week, I didn't have any. I looked at the man, wishing I could give him a sense of dignity. I wanted to tell him that he was loved and valued by the one true God. But unfortunately, my confidence in the local language isn't quite there yet.
A snack shop was nearby. I asked the man if he wanted biscuits. No, he said that he needed money for a new shirt. His shirt was very old-looking. But still, I wasn't about to give him money. I told him all I could do was buy him something from the store. Two female beggars approached. I took all their requests-- two bags of chips and a coke-- and made the purchases. When I came out, another beggar was also there, but I told him no. Then I walked away with a heavy sadness in my heart as I contemplated those four people, what I had done for them and what I wished I could have done for them.
I wish I could have taken that man to a shirt store and bought him a new shirt. But did he really need one? Or was that just a story so I'd give him money? Perhaps I'm overly cynical, but I'm pretty sure that if I HAD bought him a new shirt, he would have continued wearing the old one to look more "beggarly" and pitiful. What about the two women? Chips weren't a healthy meal. McDonalds was right down the road. I'd wanted to take them in, buy them some "real" food, look them in the eye and ask questions about them, --to give them a sense of dignity and worth. But I knew that would have been setting myself up to be taken advantage of. Word would get around the beggar community fast and every time I would ever come back to that market, swarms would not leave me alone. Did I want to be left alone? I wanted to help them. To truly help them ...to experience emotional healing and dignity, to teach them how to be physically self-sustainable, and to show them the way of spiritual salvation. Sigh. I wondered for the first time, are there even any homeless shelters in this city? In this country? After thinking about it, I was pretty sure there were not. At least not in this city. The system of social compassion in this country is defined by selfish do-good charity in order to earn points with your personal favorite god.
Later that evening, I brought the experience up with my friend at Bible study. "Even if a homeless shelter WERE to open up here, beggars would take advantage of it and not really learn anything or change," she told me matter-of-factly. I nodded sullenly, the words of one of my team leaders playing in my mind, "In the US, you sometimes have to search pretty creatively to find a good way to help, but here needs are around every corner. There are too many than we can possibly meet, so it's so important that we focus, focus, focus." The advice of my supervisor also came back to me: "Sadly, we can't help the hundreds of beggars who approach us on the street. But our way of helping is through the Children's Home. Realistically, these children could very easily become beggars if not for the Children's Home. But we're helping to educate them and raise them so they are rescued from that and can become God-fearing, upstanding citizens in this society."
I knew he was right. They were both right. But still, every time I see a beggar, my heart breaks for that person. Who are they? What is their name? Where were they born? Have they heard of the God who died for them to rescue them from eternal misery? Sadly, I don't know. Maybe I will for some of them someday, if I summon up the bravery and wisdom to safely ask. But I DO know these kids here, who I live with and play with everyday. At this moment, 10-year-old Nakul is peering at me through the window asking me what I am doing. Yesterday, he gave me a coin to buy candies for him from the market. He has a little sister named Anita. Nakul loves to read storybooks, and wants to be a pilot.
"But whoever has this world’s goods, and sees his brother in need, and shuts up his heart from him, how does the love of God abide in him?"
1 John 3:17
Not knowing what I really can do to help, I often pass by beggars, ignoring them lest I give them false hope that I will give them money. I've heard enough stories about the bad ways beggars' profit is used to know I should not give money. Lately, I've started taking small bags of rice to give to them. But last week, I didn't have any. I looked at the man, wishing I could give him a sense of dignity. I wanted to tell him that he was loved and valued by the one true God. But unfortunately, my confidence in the local language isn't quite there yet.
A snack shop was nearby. I asked the man if he wanted biscuits. No, he said that he needed money for a new shirt. His shirt was very old-looking. But still, I wasn't about to give him money. I told him all I could do was buy him something from the store. Two female beggars approached. I took all their requests-- two bags of chips and a coke-- and made the purchases. When I came out, another beggar was also there, but I told him no. Then I walked away with a heavy sadness in my heart as I contemplated those four people, what I had done for them and what I wished I could have done for them.
I wish I could have taken that man to a shirt store and bought him a new shirt. But did he really need one? Or was that just a story so I'd give him money? Perhaps I'm overly cynical, but I'm pretty sure that if I HAD bought him a new shirt, he would have continued wearing the old one to look more "beggarly" and pitiful. What about the two women? Chips weren't a healthy meal. McDonalds was right down the road. I'd wanted to take them in, buy them some "real" food, look them in the eye and ask questions about them, --to give them a sense of dignity and worth. But I knew that would have been setting myself up to be taken advantage of. Word would get around the beggar community fast and every time I would ever come back to that market, swarms would not leave me alone. Did I want to be left alone? I wanted to help them. To truly help them ...to experience emotional healing and dignity, to teach them how to be physically self-sustainable, and to show them the way of spiritual salvation. Sigh. I wondered for the first time, are there even any homeless shelters in this city? In this country? After thinking about it, I was pretty sure there were not. At least not in this city. The system of social compassion in this country is defined by selfish do-good charity in order to earn points with your personal favorite god.
Later that evening, I brought the experience up with my friend at Bible study. "Even if a homeless shelter WERE to open up here, beggars would take advantage of it and not really learn anything or change," she told me matter-of-factly. I nodded sullenly, the words of one of my team leaders playing in my mind, "In the US, you sometimes have to search pretty creatively to find a good way to help, but here needs are around every corner. There are too many than we can possibly meet, so it's so important that we focus, focus, focus." The advice of my supervisor also came back to me: "Sadly, we can't help the hundreds of beggars who approach us on the street. But our way of helping is through the Children's Home. Realistically, these children could very easily become beggars if not for the Children's Home. But we're helping to educate them and raise them so they are rescued from that and can become God-fearing, upstanding citizens in this society."
I knew he was right. They were both right. But still, every time I see a beggar, my heart breaks for that person. Who are they? What is their name? Where were they born? Have they heard of the God who died for them to rescue them from eternal misery? Sadly, I don't know. Maybe I will for some of them someday, if I summon up the bravery and wisdom to safely ask. But I DO know these kids here, who I live with and play with everyday. At this moment, 10-year-old Nakul is peering at me through the window asking me what I am doing. Yesterday, he gave me a coin to buy candies for him from the market. He has a little sister named Anita. Nakul loves to read storybooks, and wants to be a pilot.
"But whoever has this world’s goods, and sees his brother in need, and shuts up his heart from him, how does the love of God abide in him?"
1 John 3:17
I identify very much with your struggle. Thanks for sharing the story. It's difficult. I have increasingly tried to focus on something I recently heard in a sermon: "Sometimes our sense of mercy flies in the face of God's sense of justice." This is not to be calloused towards the beggars (the statement was not being made in relation to mercy ministry), but rather to find comfort that God's wisdom is unsearchable and infinite and so is His mercy and justice. All I can do is seek wisdom in each situation and be sure that I am doing God's work, being involved in the hurt and poverty and brokenness and not avoiding it. Obviously, I'm still working through all this.
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