When the Ugly Truth Gets Naked

I’m (depressingly) finding 30 Days demanding my attention, even though we’re not starting until next week.  

I went shopping without children yesterday, a fun little spree in which I picked up seven great books at a used bookstore, a few “like-new” items for birthday presents at a thrift store, and enjoyed a lunch date at a deli with my husband. 

 

Previously, I would have congratulated myself on my frugality and thought nothing more of it.  But right now, thinking about the third world, I’m realizing that my income tax bracket says I’m certainly not rich, but in actuality, I most certainly am.  It’s a sobering thought, especially given what the Bible has to say about the rich. 

I’m no shopoholic, though I do enjoy spending money (especially on bargains, whoopee!) and, of course, aquiring more “things.”  Usually I feel like I need those things.  But in beginning to consider the disparity between the have-not’s of this world and my own wealth, I found myself wincing yesterday in the middle of my purchasing pleasure, realizing how very little I comprehend the suffering of the truly poor. 

I did even more wincing as I was helping my girls clean out their room a few days back.  To help them stay more organized, I’d bought them one of those books that holds cd’s (purchased on sale, of course).  This particular one held 80 discs. 

Keeping in mind that we love books-on-tape and good music, I buy cd’s every now and then for the children to listen to while they go to sleep, and I’m always on the look-out for more.  We need them, you see.  But apparently, “now and then” means a greater frequency than I thought it did, because by the time we were done organizing, we’d filled it up those 80 spaces and still had cd’s to spare. 

Just how much stuff like that do I ”need?” 

I know we haven’t started 30 Days of Nothing yet, but just knowing it’s coming up has me preparing, reading, reflecting.  One of the things I am doing is going through the Bible looking up words like, ”poverty,” ”poor,” etc, which is resulting in an overwhelming amount of verses, and I am having a hard time understanding why I’ve been so blind to this.  Has it really been because I thought I was the one who was poor?

 It’s easy to think so, if you start comparing my home to the dwellings of my more affluent family members, I guess, but even so, how have I managed to be so insulated from the rest of the planet? 

It’s not like I didn’t know that much of the world is suffering, but I think it’s more that I’ve chosen not to think about it.  I mean, sure, I cringe at the pictures of babies dying in famine, just like any decent human being would, but I can so easily turn a switch to stop that thought from continuing to make any sort of mark in my soul. 

I’ve told myself it’s just too much, more than one person can think about, much less do anything about, and then I go right back to the business of my life—what will I cook for dinner, when can I manage to get in the shower today, and can somebody tell me why my toddler is climbing up the side of the refridgerator?   

So I guess the naked truth, which I rather hate uncovering because it sounds so awful to admit, is that I just haven’t ever cared.      

Please know that you are welcome to join us in our 30 Days of Nothing project, which starts this coming Monday, February 26th.  Click here for more information.