Sometimes I feel like that happens with my spirit-- I sit in a place for to long and the circulation gets cut off and heart becomes numb to my surroundings. If that is in my home town Atlanta Georgia, Mozambique Africa, or my current city Lima Peru. When I first went to Mozambique my heart was broken for poverty, I couldn't even understand how people had no food, shoes, never the less clean water to drink or had ever seen or knew what a toilet or what a shower was. Things that made up my every day life with out even thinking twice about having them. A society and culture that if you did not have a car, or an iphone you felt like you were lacking. After three months in Mozambique I never became numb, but it did became ordinary for me. I did not think twice about seeing a person with a mangled body from being tortured in their war with Portugal, or children who were starving, with bloated bellies. My heart broke, but over time the reality became less and less real, and it just seemed like a normal life style I was protected from.
Upon returning to the states I was stunned by the life I was accustomed to living. Some people say culture shock is hard, for me it was reverse culture shock. It blew me away the little things I took advantage of, things I thought were 'necessities'. Even something as simple as running water. After three months of hardly any showers that lasted 30 seconds if you were lucky,with just bottled drinking water; running water became like liquid gold to me. Even now I see the water running too long and my stomach cringes- but before Mozambique I would have never considered that.
So now here I am, in Lima Peru. Back in a third world nation were poverty seems to be normal. When I first came here I could barely handle walking down the street and seeing 6 year olds selling candy at 1 am in the cold. Looking at their sweet faces I could tangibly feel my heart being ripped out. Now five months later I walk by with a small passing look of sympathy, maybe a smile or a hug saying "No gracias mammita, lo siento" and walk by forgetting the face almost instantly. I see person after person that is poor and unnoticed, and sometimes I notice, sometimes I don't. I came home yesterday and was disgusted at myself. I have come to this country as a 'missionary' to love even the least of these. Yet there are broken people every few steps begging for love, and for hope and I walk by them head held high with out any gesture of love, with out a glimpse of the one my life was made to mimic, Jesus.
I love working with the youth here, there is a fire, there is a passion, there is a desire for hope. But how can I go to the youth and encourage them to live a life that exemplifies Jesus. When I have supposedly given up mine for that cause, yet I am walking by immune to the reality of their needs. I guess this is the reality of missions not many people tell you about, its something that I don't even understand. But one thing I know if is I never want my eyes to become immune to hopelessness, I never want to turn away the least of these. I want my every action, even the smallest ones to actually give some resemblance of Christ. I left my home to show others love, not just in a church, but the forgotten, beaten, and unloved.
So now? Now just like you have to move your leg around to allow circulation to flow again, I will do the same with my spirit and heart. Its time to feel His heart, to feel the desperation of love, for the ones often seen as unlovely-- but what is amazing, those are the ones who carry a beauty that can't be found anywhere else. They carry a pure desire, a zeal, and desperation for God. Not a fake shallow relationship like the ones who only enter a church on Christmas eve. They are the ones who are teaching me what love is. So heart, wake up, your time of being numb is over.
'Break my heart for break yours, everything I am your Kingdom's cause... '
Loving through His love,
-Naomi
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