Dr. King said, "There can be no great disappointment where there is no great love." Recently that's how I've been feeling about my church. I have an overwhelming sense of loving disappointment. It's sort of always been there, tucked away in a corner of my heart that I try to keep private. But it's been growing stronger since my visit to Kibera this summer.
Kibera is the largest slum in Africa. The second largest in the world. Nearly one million people live there on a plot of land the size of Central Park in New York. One square mile. No running water. No sewer system. Piles of burning garbage. Barefoot children jumping sludgey puddles just to get through the doors of their mud and corregated steel houses. If you've seen the film, "The Constant Gardener," then you've had a glimpse of Kibera.
There are churches in Kibera. Little tumbly shacks where people squeeze together and sing the most amazing accapella music while young boys slap out drum beats on cow skins and women and children dance. Churches with people like Judith. Judith who held my hand tightly as we walked the streets, protecting me from suspcious on lookers. Judith who kissed my checks and urged me not to forget them -- not to forget Kibera. But we have. It's as if the body of Christ has forgotten it has a left leg.
In 2 Corinthians Chapter Eight, Paul urges local churches to share their wealth with the goal of equality, so that "those who have gathered much do not have too much and those who have gathered little do not have too little." We have gathered much. Kibera has gathered little. But I'm not sure we're willing to share. I'm not even sure we believe it's required of us. Or that Kibera is worth sacrificing our own comfort. But what good is the Church or the tithe if it offers nothing to the poor?
Sometimes I've heard people in church say things like: If American Christians actually tithed, there would be enough money to meet the UN's estimates for what it would take to provide baisc food, water, education, and healthcare for the world's poor. But I don't believe it. I don't believe it because I don't think that money given to the Church would actually end up in the hands of the poor. I think it would probably just buy nicer buildings and better media equipment and cooler furniture for the coffee shops and cyber cafes. So how much is too much?
I love my church. But I think I could love it a lot more if I could be certain that it's existence mattered to places like Kibera.
4 comments:
Thank you Desiree for always bringing light to things we don't know of or don't see. I love your heart. I really appreciate and respect your perspective on the world and the church. Thanks for keeping us in check.
Hey Desiree
I think there is a lot of validity in what you said. (Good blog).
One thing I think our church is missing now is the place in this world we are going to embrace and make a difference. I REALLY thought we had found it in Rwanda. Our church was adopting families like crazy. Lots of people were buying cows. I feel like we really were beginning to embrace that country and area as our bit of the world to impact.
Then they kicked out our missions agency.
I am still puzzled with God about that.
We have GOT to find the next place God wants CCC to go to work.
Maybe you are the person to bring that to the forefront?
Our church NEEDS to be doing that.
Bill
Oh yeah. I also wanted to say, "We need you in our church!"
Bill
Bill, thanks for commenting on the blog. I'm glad somebody is reading it. I'm in a season of struggle right now, and there are definitely things weighing heavy on my heart. My frustration is as much with myself as anyone or anything. I hope people can read my wrestling thoughts and not miss the love I have for CCC and it's mission that is always underneath and within them.
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