Walk with me if you will . . .

Down an unfamiliar road we go. It is bumpy but beautiful, full of raw creation pointing to it's maker with child like faith.  It winds into  strips of straightness and curves to reveal the complicated simplicity of poverty, and together we walk - wondering how we can help in our own skinky brokeness. Having pared down our lives to what we thought was bare bones, we realize that we are walking under the heaviness of creature comforts we thought we would need - only to discover that those that have nothing, materially speaking,  have come out of their homes to help us carry our boxes of Christmas decorations, containers of shoes, paintings and crafts, etc. etc. etc. - the list of boxes countless, glitter and lights and bedding and linens and throw pillows and baking sheets and magazines and books and clothes - oh the clothes - and stuffed animals and dvds and and and and.  And they happily help me carry my load and place it in my home, and me full of embarassing conviction and them full of friendship and smiles, I find myself more broken than I thought.  Who is rich and who is poor?  Is it the one who has material abundance but trusts not OR the one who has little and without hesitation extends a hand?  Maybe its not an either/or but a both/and . . .  Of course it is entirely possible to have material abundance AND trust OR to have little and trust not.  It's simply complicated and complicated not.

What would it do to your soul to have the contents of your home moved carried by hand down the road by someone who lived with significantly less than you?  Will you walk with me?  Will you share  what the Lord is speaking to you? With fear of offending and vulnerable conviction I confess that I wrestle with this experience  and pray that the Lord works in my heart in a mighty way that I may be a vessel for Him.