"He wanted to be poor with the poor." I keep thinking about what I read this morning from Henri Nouwen in his book, "The Road to Daybreak", about the founder of L'Arch. Who wants to be poor? And who wants to live with the poor; besides NGO workers, missionaries, Catholic Sisters and Priests?
My working definition of labor is to strive in some purposeful direction, to attain something, rise above or go beyond the present condition. When I worked in mortgage finance, I strived to close as many houses in a month as possible. I once labored to increase the number of health care users among Latino employees. I've helped improve the language ability among Spanish and English learners. I have tried to grow two different sole proprietorships. I've tried improving my housekeeping and parenting skills and to live in a more loving and understanding with my husband. I guess I know something about striving.
In my drive for more, why would I ever want to have less or live with those with less; unless it were to boost my own sense of value? And yet, to be Christian is to want to be more like Jesus. And to be more like Jesus is to have less. Jesus, the eternal, powerful, self-sustaining, contented God, gave up such wealth to live among the poor of this earth, me and you - that he might make us rich in ways we can not possibly begin imagining.
This morning, I read in Psalm 103 in the Bible that God is compassionate with me, slow to anger, gracious, abounding in kind love. He has removed my guilt and shame as high as the heavens, so great is his love. He does not treat me as my brokenness deserves. As I read these words, my broken, downcast heart began to heal. I felt thirsty, and at the encouragement of God in Revelation 22:17, I came to him freely, wanting as much as He might give to restore me.
How might I approach work in light of such wealth from God? For me, it means being less self-absorbed in my tasks; which I typically do to medicate my own loneliness and emptiness. It means pausing from my "have-to-dos" to read a story or acknowledge my daughter's latest discovery. It means fixing another meal, handling more bodily fluids, and receiving little, if any notice from others. It means becoming poor; intentionally living with the poor. My daughters are not poor, like the child in this picture. But, they are dependent emotionally, physically and mentally on the help of others. To be a child is to need. If one is in need, one is poor.
If you or I want to be near Jesus, then this means going where He might be found in our places of work. For a stay-at-home mother it might mean finding him changing a diaper. Or as a parent, seeing him help with homework instead of reading or watching t.v. Or as a husband, watching him listen, yet again, to his wife's detailed stories or complaints. Or as a student, watching him befriend the unpopular classmate or striving for that B that never gets noticed. Or in the office, finding him quietly filing another's work, or going to lunch with coworkers he knows will gossip and complain. Or finding him praying in a quiet room, accepting (in the world's eyes) a lesser job position, less valued work, or less pay; or death on a cross - all out of love of God's love for him, and his love for others.
My prayer today. "Father, help me cease striving, accept and rest in the wealth you've given me and put in my heart the love you have for the poor around me. Protect me from judging others because as you say, 'I myself do the same as they'. I ask this confidently because Jesus' death made it possible for me to approach you, Amen."
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