“It’s not fair, God. It’s not fair that I was born in America where wealth and opportunity surrounded me during my developmental years. It’s not fair these children were born into a society where poverty and HIV infection await them upon birth. I didn’t choose to be born in America…nor did they choose to be born into this environment.”
These were my initial thoughts as I walked under an unforgiving Kenyan sun into a “church” hut made of mud, sand and cow dung. In this hut I looked into the eyes of several orphans and widows who were abandoned due to AIDS, poverty, the neglect from polygamy and a myriad of other factors. As I looked upon these precious children and ladies with sadness and guilt, they returned my gaze with a look of joy, thankfulness and…hope. As they sang out proclamations of the sovereignty of Christ, I could see that the delight of knowing Jesus was enough for them. As the village church began to feed the hungry with a desperately needed bowl of beans and rice, they asked our team to be seated.
While seated, church members brought us a large platter of popcorn and sodas. I quickly glanced at the children sitting on the dirt floors consuming what would probably be one of only three meals they would receive this week. As I looked back at the local pastor, I frowned and said, “Pastor Jonathan, I cannot sit here and eat this in front of them. That’s seems insulting.” Pastor Jonathan smiled and patiently responded, “No, my friend. It is just the opposite. They would be offended if you did NOT eat and drink. They not only want to share this meal with you…they also want to honor the Mzungus (Swahili word for “white people”) who have come to help them.”
Although I reluctantly ate my popcorn and drank my coke, I returned to my hotel room in Kisumu that evening and wept. As the sun began to set and traffic noises started stirring just out of my window in the business district of the city, I began to cry out to God. Just above a whisper I uttered, “Lord, if only those precious Kenyans knew what is in my heart. They wanted to honor me, but if they knew the greed and lust that is in this Mzungu’s soul, they never would’ve served me. If they could see what I spend my time and money on back in the ‘land of opportunity’ they would know that I’m not worth honoring.”
During the late night hours, I stared at the ceiling while being surrounded by my mosquito net and a faint breeze from the outside. I could not shake the images of the dear people I had met that day. Not only had the depth of their poverty disturbed my sleep, but also the intense joy and contentment of their hearts. It was in this moment that the Spirit reminded me of two incredibly essential truths.
First, despite my greed, lust, sin, and imperfections…the poor of Kisumu were not necessarily “honoring” my abilities or assistance for their people. They were thanking me for my willingness and obedience to be present with them in that moment. This truth should not and does not in any way weaken the importance of preparation before a mission like this one. Rather, this truth reminded me that we need to be the face of encouragement to our brothers and sisters in another hemisphere. Simply throwing our money to mission causes is not an entirely biblical model. Is our giving for the sake of meeting needs and sharing the gospel needed and even commanded? Absolutely. Yet, in addition to surrendering our wallets, Christ was very clear that we are to give of ourselves for the sake of the nations. In that moment, I learned that if we are physically able (and even cases where we aren’t), we must go to the nations.
The believers of sub-Sahara Africa needed to see our faces. They needed to know that Western Christians cared deeply for their brothers and sisters. They needed to see that our devotion does not stop with the purchase of modern-day temples of worship… and luxury cars to get us to our temples. They needed to see that we care enough for them and the gospel, that we would sacrifice, not only our money, but our time, families, and safety…to give them love, equipping, encouragement…in person. Sometimes, money does not translate these intangibles very well.
Second, my Kenyan family was also an encouragement to me. As I looked in the eyes of those widows and orphans with sorrow, their joyful stare proclaimed, “Don’t weep for us. Jesus is enough for us. Is He enough for you?” Ouch. In that moment I felt completely vulnerable. You see, many times the danger of American Christianity is that we unintentionally (and sometimes intentionally) devise an equation that says, “Jesus + (this or that) = Enough.” I don’t think we would ever say that aloud, yet functionally, we attach our “this or that” and create our own theology.
Jesus + Republican = Enough…Jesus + Wealth = Enough…Jesus + Health = Enough…Jesus + Impressive Church Facilities = Enough…Jesus + “comfortable” House = Enough…Jesus + My Safety = Enough…Jesus + the “right” College = Enough…Jesus + Freedom = Enough…Jesus + Morality = Enough…and the list goes on for each one of us.
How many of these (and more) have I attached to the new equation? Yet, these beloved Kenyans looked at me with their eyes and their lives and said, “Jesus is Enough. Living under a tree, without daily meals, without guaranteed safety, without clean water, without health care, without capitalism, without shelter…Jesus is still…Enough.” And He is more than Enough. You can sense that He is their joy and their treasure! These Kenyan believers beg the question, “Is Jesus enough for me?”
It’s easy to say, “yes” without thinking. It is easy to say “yes” in a sermon to people I hope to impress. It’s easy to say “yes” to my children because I don’t want to look unspiritual. But is He enough? Really?
Do I treasure Jesus so much that He satisfies…completely? Do I treasure Christ so much that I would risk anything and everything for His sake? Do I treasure the Messiah so much that I will do whatever it takes to point others to the only One who is worthy of our worship and devotion?
This is usually the section of the blog where I “bring it home” and make the application “stick.” But I want to leave the question right where I found it hanging in my soul:
Is Jesus enough for me?
Is Jesus enough for you?
