Wednesday, September 4, 2013

How Am I Blessed?

Working odd hours means I have to DVR "Longmire."  Working odd hours means people assume I'm not doing anything all day.  Working odd hours means I'm crawling under the covers just as the sun is blasting through my bedroom window.

However, working odd hours means I catch folks just as they're drowsily posting their last thoughts on Facebook, or they're being tormented by all those terrible things that go bump in the night.  A friend of mine was having just such a wakeful night last week.  My text alert went off some time around 1 AM.

"You are blessed," I texted.  "What could possibly be keeping you up at night?"

Well, it seems, time is passing and he doesn't quite see his life shaping up to be as he expected.  Now, far be it from me to ever suggest clothes, or cars, or money makes the man, but when it comes to opportunities, this guy's had 'em. 

"How am I blessed?" he asked.

I was stunned.  I mean, this was legit.  This guy honestly did not see what he had going.  He'd never been on food stamps or public assistance.  He'd never been forced to shop at discount stores.  He has multiple vehicles.  He has traveled.  He stays with a friend -- a great person, by the way -- in a beautiful home.  He has a job, a child, a life.  This was not some ingrate with a leaky diaper on Santa's lap.  He didn't get it.

"I know it could be worse," he texted.

I meet so many people who have no idea where their next meal is coming from, or how they will pay their utilities.  Their need is tangible, and the blessing of having their needs met is a box of food they put in their car or strap to the back of a bike.  But what of those whose plate is full, but hearts are empty? whose homes are warm and dry, but hearts are cold and drier still?  This poverty goes unanswered -- even by those who suffer it.  My heart is breaking for this guy.  He is in a world full of people, and still alone.  He is armed, ready, and standing with lights on, doors bolted shut, yet, he is afraid.  His need seems so much greater.

And it is.  Far greater than I.  I cannot throw him a Giant gift card and yell, "Use your coupons for extra savings!".  I cannot point him toward the clothing ministry and tell him to have at it.  His need must be addressed on the battlefield of the supernatural.  His need must be wrestled and pinned to holy ground.  I must take responsibility for the poor of heart just as I do the poor of purse.  I must lay his cause before his Creator when he will not.  I must point him toward Living Water each time he comes to me in thirst.  And I must pray.  With as much prayer as my knees will take, I must pray that one day he can answer the question, "How am I blessed?"
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