This morning I received an email from a person I've discipled for a number of years.
The question was posed to me: Have you ever been broken by God?
Click here to download this file: Broken
I've had a few times when God "broke" me. The first and maybe most significant was as a summer missionary in Houston, TX. I was there with about 50 other high school seniors and college students. We lived in a big house and worked in the community at Christian centers that fed the poor and offered education and training etc. The only day "off" was Saturday each week and there would be 2 options apart from staying around the house. Option 1: Go to Wal-mart (get supplies, pictures, etc) Option 2: Go on a Bread-Run. A bread run was taking day-old bread to the inner city. The neighborhoods where we took bread were some of the worst I've ever seen (and I grew up on welfare in Baltimore City so that's saying something). The houses were falling apart and the neighborhoods were in terrible shape. Anyway, I had put off doing a bread run (it was volunteer only all summer) until 2 weeks before I was to return home.
We woke up early and loaded the bed of a pickup truck with bread that the local bakery couldn't sell. It only had like a day or so before the sale date so they donated it each week. Anyway we drove down into this part of town and I got out on one side of the truck and a friend got out on the other. As we turned the corner people came out from everywhere. They knew the familiar sight and they were pleased to see us. It was amazing to see people so excited about so little. To them this was the highlight of their week (free bread). We weren't giving out ice-cream or cake. We were giving out plain old bread (and some gospel information).
Well, as I looked down the road I saw this little boy who looked to be about 7 years old. He was dirty and didn't have shirt or shoes. He had cut-off pants for shorts and the top button was unbuttoned b/c they didn't look like they fit him. He just looked like he was in bad shape. He was standing down the street looking as if he wanted to come up to us but he was afraid so I motioned to him to come and I smiled. He smiled and ran up the street to me. As he got closer he slowed down and stayed about 4-5 feet from me. I reached out a loaf of bread to him and handed it to him. This is the moment that changed my view of self. He took that bread and looked up to me so gently and said "Thank You".
As he turned to run back home I followed him with my eyes. He went back home down the street to one of the worst homes in the area. He ran past the hole in the fence where a gate would be, past his living room furniture which was in the front yard and squeezed between a hole where the front door was laying over the place where the door should go. He ran into a 'home' where the back end of the roof had collapsed. Literally his house had fallen in and his family was still living in the front part of the house with the rest of their furniture in the front yard. The grass was about 2 feet tall with bottles and trash all around. I could not believe my eyes.
At this point in my life I was a 17-year-old kid who was hanging around a crowd that wasn't the most beneficial. I was fighting the same fights most 17 year olds face with popularity and the need for "more". I wanted my mom to buy me more stuff and I was mad if I didn't have the best that other kids had. At this moment... I was broken. I don't really remember the rest of our morning. All I could think about was this kid and the way he looked at me so thankfully. I thought about his home and situation and how ungrateful I was.
When I arrived back to the mission house I went up to my bunk and pulled a blanket to cover my bunk. I put my face in my pillow and cried. I remember as I cried I prayed out loud "Lord, please help me to see you the way that little boy saw me!" "I don't want to be so shallow and greedy. I want to appreciate and love you for who you are."
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