The Unexpected Results of Displacement

According to Webster’s dictionary, displacement means, to move or to shift from the ordinary or proper place.

Jesus was the ultimate example of this, “Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross!” Philippians 2:6-8

As followers of Jesus we are called out of familiar places to unknown territories. Out of ordinary and proper places to the places where people hurt and where we can experience with them our common human brokenness and our common need for healing.

When we put ourselves in unfamiliar places where people are poor, hungry, exploited, it changes you. You may be there to heal them, but in exchange God changes you forever.

In 1994 I took a team of 30 people to Mexico City for 8 days to work with children who were living in extreme poverty. It is a trip I will never forget.

In a city of 30 million people, the chaos, the poverty, the hurting, the sick is all around. It was emotionally overwhelming to see the seas of people struggling to survive.

Mexico City has wealthy areas and affluence, but we did not go to those places. The poor places, which are far more numerous, were the areas where we would feed children, play soccer and share with them the message that Jesus loved them.

We saw children who were hungry, sick and literally had nothing. Yet their smiles, the brightness of their beautiful brown eyes and the thankfulness in their fragile little voices was a strange juxtaposition for a middle class American to wrap his brain around. 

We would tell them Jesus loved them and they would beam, “I know!” With very, very little these kids were celebrating life and God, so grateful for everything around them. There was a depth to their contentment that made me envious. It magnified the depth of my own emptiness. With all my material possessions, pleasures and opportunities in my life, these children, in many ways, were happier than I was.

My emotional state went hurling over the edge of sanity when we spent an entire day in the vast garbage dumps on the west side of the city. From where the city met the dump we drove for 40 minutes at about 20 miles per hour right into the heart of this disease infested wasteland. We arrived at this little village which had been built up out of garbage for years. Children were all around. It was as if they were waiting for something. Waiting for someone. Maybe they were waiting for us. It seemed like we were on another planet. All I could think about was the old Mel Gibson movie, “Road Warrior“

The living were barely alive. Their round, bloated bellies aching and calling out to us as we fed them rice, beans, tortillas, barely strong enough to receive the meal. 

Live electrical wires were lying on the ground all around us, just waiting for the next unsuspecting soul. Many of the kids were deformed from the lack of medical care. None of the kids knew there was a world outside of the dump. They were just grateful we were there. Somebody cared.

My body and brain went numb. This was not real. How could it be? I saw a little graveyard across from where we were handing out the food. Little crosses marked the lives of the young who had surrendered to the enemy of hunger and disease much too early. 

This was my worst nightmare, but I was wide awake. Reality sucker-punched me that day and it is a blow I will never forget.

That night I lost it in my hotel room. I cried. I yelled. I wept with sadness and yelled at God in anger! My emotions were broken and raw. The scab of my false image of reality had been ripped off that day and it exposed the raw sores of how so much of our world lives. 

Our team gathered and said nothing. Words were useless and shallow. We just cried. And cried. And cried. The words of Sydney J. Harris came to mind, “When I hear somebody sigh, ‘Life is hard,’ I am always tempted to ask, ‘Compared to what?’”

And then the questions started racing through my weary mind. What hope did these children have? Why was I so blessed? Why was I so discontent when I have so much? Why would God put those kids in that situation? Why doesn’t God do something about it? Why doesn’t somebody do something about it? I was a mess!

The next night, we went to a church service on the outskirts of the dump. The building was made out of material from the dump. All kinds of metal, plastic and wood formed this little shack of worship. It was a church which reached out to people who lived in the dump. My emotions were still raw. They had asked me to speak. How do you speak about the hope of God when all I could see was hopelessness all around? 

During the music time, God introduced me to TRUE JOY. REAL CONTENTMENT. I watched from the back of the little church, people worshipping, thanking, smiling, hugging, and celebrating life and all the goodness of God. 

They sang in Spanish the words of the psalmist, “Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good, his love endures forever.” I was in awe! The poorest people I had ever met were challenging my paradigm when it came to happiness and contentment. These people were truly grateful and content.

Obviously it wasn’t because of their material possessions or career dreams or because their 401k plans were growing. It came from something so much deeper. It was something that I needed. They were living the words of Paul, “I have learned to be content in all circumstances.” 

To shake my reality even more, they took an offering during the service and tried to give it to us. They tried to give us the offering! We were not going to accept it, I may not be real bright, but this seemed like a pretty obvious decision, but the person who was our guide for the week said, “We better take it, or they will be insulted.” 

I was so humbled by the whole situation. My heart began to be filled because of their generosity. I will never forget the joy on their faces as they handed us the little bag of money as we hugged them goodbye. 

I was reminded of the words of Paul writing about the poor churches in Macedonia, “They are being tested by many troubles, and they are very poor. But they are also filled with abundant joy, which has overflowed in rich generosity.” 

When you think of the words “poor” and “troubles”, you usually do not associate it with the words “joy” and “generosity”. But in God’s kingdom those words go together. This little, poor church with no material possessions was contagious with joy which led to a sacrificial generosity which challenged my faith and filled my heart. 

I tend to think my joy comes from good circumstances. This kind of joy is fragile. That is more like happiness rather than joy. 

Real joy does not come from good circumstances but from the gratitude of everyday being a gift from God and I have been given the gift of His scandalous Grace. In the words of Henri Nouwen, “Gratitude does not come from feeling joyful. Joy comes from being thankful.”

I came to Mexico City to help physically hungry children and what I discovered were hungry, poor, joy-filled, generous children who were feeding my hungry, poor, joyless, empty soul. I hope I helped their hungry bellies. I know they helped my hungry soul!

IT WAS MEXICO CITY WHERE I DISCOVERED THE UNEXPECTED RESULTS OF DISPLACEMENT. It affects me to this day. 

When we put ourselves in unfamiliar places it changes you. You may be there to heal them, but in exchange God changes you forever.

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WHAT SIDE OF THE STREET WOULD JESUS BE ON?