Faceplant

It came on slowly.  We sat in in the boarding area in the Ouaga International Airport.  The big (for Africa) flat screen TV was playing French news that is always more wide-ranging and in-depth than we usually find in the US.  The news ranged from Syria, to Gaza; from the Ukraine to Libya.  It all looked so much bigger and richer than we had become accustomed to in Ouaga.

Six or so hours later we arrived at the Brussels airport.  It was like peeking behind the winning curtain on “Let’s Make a Deal.” There were more material goods crammed into the airport shops that we had seen during the past year in Burkina Faso.  It was almost unreal in the vastness and value of the offerings.  We caught ourselves staring in every direction, feeling like country bumpkins gawking in Times Square.  It was like a palace of dreams come true.  Even before I could think of a particular meal or gift, it was there in front of us pasted on a dozen shop windows.  I thought of our neighborhood kids in Ouaga—barefoot, unwashed, and begging for peanuts or water.  I couldn’t shake my head hard enough to empty the incongruity from my mind.

Thank God (literally and often) we arrived at Denver International Airport at night.  The airport was pretty much down for the night.  No crowds streaming down escalators; shops were electronically shuttered.  The trip home was muffled in darkness as our attention was on talking with Andy who was so kind and patient to greet us as we entered the arrival area.  It was unspeakably good to see the face of a warm Christian brother that gave us some root in the surging maelstrom of change between America and the fourth poorest country in the world.  Thanks Andy, you will never know how much of a blessing you were that night.

Now, four days on the clean ground of Denver, I still struggle with jet lag and something like culture lag.  I want to celebrate being in a country where the air smells good, I can drink from the tap, and we don’t have to soak our vegetables in laundry bleach.  Paradoxically, I am also very angry with America.  All around I see people who have so much, yet desire so much more.  I see people leave half-uneaten meals on plates in the restaurant.  I am bombarded by advertisements that tell me I can’t be happy, feel contented, or live rightly without cars, clothes, food, furniture, toys and other treasures that must always be the newest, most trendy, or fashionable.  Everywhere I see lots of stuff, but little substance.  I see people craving actualization and hardly if ever thinking of Jesus.

Here I sit, pontificating and sounding so self-righteous, but I am honestly not.  I blame myself as much as anyone.  I spent the first half century of my life thinking mostly of me and running over other’s toes.  I craved professional accomplishment, disposable income, and material comforts.  God helped me because I almost wasted my life. 

Now I carry water for Jesus and fight an ongoing battle against my egocentrism as well as against the ravages of other people's poverty.  I am tempted to pride because I do what I think I should be doing, but all I am doing is what God put before me as a lesson.  God gets the glory and I am blessed because he lets me carry His tools. Now like a chastened Scrooge, I want to throw open the window and greet Christmas with a shout.  I want to let the unsaved know that the boat is slowly sinking and they have choices to make.

It’s a lot different living in a hot, dusty, and dirt poor part of the world.  I live among people who treasure their faith, their friends, and their family.  I want to stand on a street corner and wake my neighbors to the fact that they are dying and will eternally fall never to see God again.  I want to tell the USA that there are so many people living here that are so poor that all they have is money.  They have a ton of 401k’s, health care, good accountants, a lot of stuff—more than they can even see because they are occupied with wanting more things, more vacations, more money and hardly have a thought for God.

My face hit the wall of divergent realities—realities as different as night and day.  People who have so much that they don’t treasure what has real value—Jesus Christ and eternal life through Him and Him only and people who have so little that they value what is really real—God, family, and friends.  When the end comes those who have had so much will be the truly poor and those who had so little will have known best what actually had the greatest value and will enjoy eternity truly free of all want.

I need to find a street corner.

(Don gets the blame for this rant.)