There is something that has been bothering me lately, and I think it’s something we all feel when serving those less fortunate then ourselves: It’s that feeling that we don’t deserve the abundant life we have in the States, and it’s not fair for us to ‘want’. Obviously I’m not talking about wanting in excess, but wanting things like good food, a comfortable place to sleep, wanting to travel and go to concerts and get coffee with your friends. During our time here in Guatemala, I have been panged with guilt when I miss the comforts of the United States and the food that I am accustomed to; by feeling like I am ‘roughing it’, I feel like I am showing contempt for the Guatemalan lifestyle. This is their lives that I have been invited to be a part of, and for me to want more – more comfort and more familiarity – makes me feel like I am being selfish. And honestly, I really am not even roughing it here; we are fed three home-cooked meals a day, go to the gym, shower daily, have comfortable beds to sleep in and light to read by at night. We are absolutely fortunate to be living with Sheny and Otto, because there are thousands more families we could be living with here that do not have such beautiful homes and enough money to eat so well every day. And even that makes me feel selfish – counting my blessings that I am in a nice home here so I don’t have to experience too much discomfort. It’s such an interesting paradox in life; how do we immerse ourselves in service, trying to feel the pain of the other, and then not feel guilt when we are glad we are not that other? Here are a couple of stories to illustrate my point: Two years ago, I went on an alternative spring break trip with my school. The focus of the trip was looking at AIDS, homelessness, and poverty in the San Francisco area, and we spent most of our days serving in soup kitchens and learning about the desperate spread of AIDS in the city. After a morning of serving breakfast to hundreds of homeless men, women and children, our group decided we wanted to see the nicer parts of the city. We found an H & M Store, which at the time we didn’t have in Oregon, and everyone got so excited, rushing in and looking for the latest sundress. But a couple of us held back, realizing the juxtaposition of our day didn’t feel right. How could we go shopping and spend money on something as trivial as a sundress when we had just met hundreds of people literally living in the streets? I am not trying to say we were saints and they were bad people; any other day, we would have gladly joined the group shopping. But because of what we had just seen, the self-serving action of shopping just didn’t feel right.
Another story that adds to the complexity of this feeling: A few weeks ago, I read a note one of Brooks’ friends had posted about her experience in poverty-stricken Mexico, working with underprivileged children. She spoke out boldly against the American style of giving, which is throwing money at charities but not actually paying attention to the issues in our world. She thought about all of her “poor college student” friends, who by the standards of these children are filthy rich. And she wondered, if everyone had donated the money that they spent on a concert ticket for that day, if they had donated that money to Mexico, how much more could be done with that money? It felt as though she was reprimanding all of her friends that chose to enjoy life by buying an expensive concert ticket. Although I’m sure she had the best of intentions, and we can all understand that being placed in the middle of poverty changes the way someone looks at life, I didn’t feel that this was the right way to address the situation either. Is the best way to help others, and not feel guilty about your America life, to criticize those that are not doing anything and ‘selfishly’ spending money on themselves? I saw this many times on my university campus, people getting angry about social injustice and essentially alienating those that were doing nothing. And although a lot of good has come out of people angry enough about something to change it, I just can't help but think about the peaceful way Jesus spread change all over the world.
Brooks and I were talking about this very topic, and he brought up the point that those who are able to see God in every situation of life can thank God for the blessings He has given them, and can feel that their great house and great job are not something to be ashamed of, but something to praise God for giving. And both of us felt that we have a hard time seeing life this way, that we both felt weak in our faith that we could not see God in something like the blessing of a beautiful home. It’s easy to see God in the smile of an orphan, but how many of us see the abundant life we have been given and guiltlessly praise God for it?
Another example of this guilt hit me two nights ago, when Brooks and I stayed overnight at the orphanage. I was talking to one of the older girls, and I told her we would not be making it to the orphanage on Friday because we had to get a party ready for Brooks’ host mom, Cony. As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt the pang of guilt. Here I was, talking to a girl that has no parents, and has basically been told to give up her freedom to be in charge of 10 other girls ages 8-13. I not only have amazing biological parents in the States, but now I was talking about host parents that I have here in Guatemala, and the freedom I have to choose not to go to the orphanage so I have time to bake a cake. Wanting to have a party for someone, and wanting to enjoy that party, is not something that would normally make me feel guilty and probably should not make someone feel guilty. But given the circumstance, I could not help but feel the blessings that God has handed out have not been evenly distributed. My mind has gone back many times to the passage in Luke 12:48, which says, “From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked”. But what is that ‘much’? Do I have to give up all my happiness and comfort before I have finally given enough? I understand that following Jesus is not an easily life, but honestly at times I wonder if I really am following Jesus when I want to be in a soft bed, and to wake up to the breakfast of my choice. How do I balance living joyfully in the abundance I have been given, but still experience apathy and selfless generosity for those that are less fortunate than myself? Or are we even supposed to be asking the question about this balance; did Jesus really mean it when he told us to sell everything we have, love Him more than our biological families, leave them and follow Him? Maybe I am too weak and too American to truly do this.
This thought is something that will be ever present in my time here in Guatemala, and as much as I want an easy answer to this dilemma, I honestly will probably never find it. The only thing that I can take comfort in is that maybe God didn’t intend for us to have answers to everything, but that we shouldn’t stop asking the questions.
On a happier and mostly unrelated note, the party we threw for Cony was amazing. Brooks took her out for coffee as a cover-up, and Yesi made a delicious Pepián (a traditional Guatemalan dish), Brooks made sweet potato fries, and I made a carrot cake and naranjada, an orange drink. We snuck all the food into Cony’s house while she was out with Brooks, and hide behind the counter to jump out and say “Surprise!” when she walked in the door. We were joined by Cony’s father and sister, as well as a friend that boards a room in her house, and her artist friend from Chiantla, who actually lived in Eugene for 20 years some time ago (he had long hair and hippie dance moves – it made so much sense that he had lived in Eugene). We ate our delicious dinner, accompanied by kind words said about Cony by Otto, Brooks, and her father, and after dinner we enjoyed the cake and danced in the living room to marimba music. It was incredible; again, I counted my blessings that we are living with this family. They are truly special.
Well, this could be a very long comment or Skype, but I am typing with my thumb. To feel guilty is human, but what one has to remember is how you will take your call and experience and apply it back in the States. You have been given a gift of experience that many of us will never experience and you probably won't ever live in opulence. But your message and experience goes beyond having someone from the States giving a donation, instead you are looking for a christ like connection to be made. Have a pen pal. The children need so much more from our eyes, but they desire a connection to the outside world of their town right now, don't worry about your guilt. You have already shed so much to pass through the eye of the needle. Remember, it is the smiles that come not only from the children but from Jesus each day you are there serving him.
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