Sometimes I feel guilty–guilty that I don’t do enough in light of all the tragedy and difficulty in the world. Nepal. ISIS. The HIV/AIDS issue in Africa and the world. Trafficking. Russian orphans. Korea’s unwanted babies.
I get terribly overwhelmed, and it feels like drowning beneath the tears and wails of those who’ve suffered.
The weight of all the need falls heavily on my shoulders like a piano dropped from the 60th story of a super tall building. I feel crippled and smashed. What can a 25-year-old, starry-eyed dreamer do for all the hungry tummies, snoty noses, and love-starved arms? I am only one person with a soft heart that shuts down in this tsunami flood of such desperate need.
I am empty. I have nothing to offer. At least this is how I feel.
But if I can care. If I can see the need. If I can stand the discomfort of my luxury juxtaposed against their hardship, maybe…
Maybe.
Maybe I can do a tiny little thing here and there to begin a change. In me. In you. In the world.
Throughout the years, I have been a part of a handful task force teams, sent to aid different places and ministries. I’ve entertained Spanish-speaking orphans with clown-antics, and I’ve cleaned debris from the homes and businesses damaged by a hurricane or an earthquake.
I guess that’s all to say that I’ve done some good things.
But here’s the thing. My help in those things likely didn’t make a huge difference, considering entire cities were influenced by nature’s wrath; however, those weeks peeled back my selfishness from my self-centered heart.
Maybe I only can do a little. And maybe it doesn’t change the overall course of history; and yet, it changes my own personal history. And perhaps the personal histories of a couple of other people, too.
Oh, God Who Loves.
My hands are empty, and you gave me no super powers to hold back tsunamis or to hold the earth together when it shakes or to change hearts from violence. How can you love this world and these people who are so hungry and needy, never satisfied and often traumatized by living or dulled by monotony? I am empty.
And I feel guilty because I’d rather hide from the pain and need all around me because I know what I really am: emptiness.
My hands are empty; but in their emptiness, they can hold the hands of hurting people or they can fill plates with food to share. Loving God, please guide my eyes to see how I can fill my emptiness to help others, but allow my actions to be from love and not guilt.
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