Last week I was having one of those deep philosophical discussions I sometimes have with my 5-year-old. We were having one of those “all I want for Christmas is everything” nights, and I decided to talk to him a little about having an attitude of gratitude.
Elijah, remember that there are people out on the street tonight, who would be grateful just to have a soft bed in a warm room. Instead of thinking about everything that we want this year, let’s try to think about what we could do to help them.
God has a tremendous sense of humor.
Yesterday my beloved was at the library with the kids, and struck up a conversation with a woman there. Amy doesn’t talk to strangers all that often, but she has a thing about people from other cultures. This woman was born in the Congo. She and her family (husband and two kids) had just come to Charlotte from the Northwest US, and currently reside wherever they park their van at night.
My wife went way out on a limb – she invited them to dinner.
No, it’s okay, I know what you’re thinking. I thought the same thing when she called me to say we were having some guests and told me a little about how she met them.
But she had already invited, so I did the logical thing. I gave her a little dressing down for inviting someone she just met to our house, and I hid anything of value.
If you know me, you probably think I was being humorous in the previous paragraph. Let me assure you I was not.
Then came a knock at the door, and thus began one of the most wonderful evenings I can remember in a long time.
Their kids are only a little older than ours, and they were off playing in three seconds. I think I saw the whole group of kids once in the next three hours. David is a well-read, well-traveled guy who is about a month older than me. Chengali grew up between a village in the Congo and Kinshasa, the capitol.
They were a lot like us, only a little more interesting.
At the end of the evening we prayed together. If you’ve never prayed with someone from another culture, you should try it. Every time I’ve done that I’ve been reminded of how wimpy my prayers are. Oh, there’s nothing wrong with them on the surface, but I don’t talk to God as if I truly depend on Him. There’s something that seems so much more earnest in the prayers of someone who has lived, and is living, in total dependence on God.
The joke is that I am too; I just have so much stuff around me that I have trouble seeing it.
They were very gracious, thanking us for giving them a chance to forget about their circumstances for an evening. Seems like it has been a while since they had adult conversations with people who weren’t judging them. Okay, I was at first…but I got over myself pretty quickly once David and I started talking.
Then they gathered their kids, said thank you, goodnight, and drove off.
To find a well-lit parking lot.
So they could sleep.
I woke at 2:00 this morning, and immediately checked the temperature. Somewhere around 12 degrees. Even our well-insulated, dual unit-heated house felt a bit chilly.
Well, what were you supposed to do? Invite strangers to sleep in your house?
I think maybe we were supposed to.
From Isaiah 58:
“Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke? Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide for the poor wanderer with shelter?”
But this isn’t Beaver Cleaver land. You can’t just invite strangers into your home.
Yeh, you can. I probably wouldn’t have done it, but my wife doesn’t suffer the fear of humanity that dogs me when opportunities to shine a little Christ-light come along.
Okay, well it was just one dinner…
It was, but when I heard Amy stirring this morning we talked about what had transpired last night, and how we both felt about the experience. And we called them to see if they would stay with us for a while.
No answer yet. They said they needed to pray about it.
If we’re being played, we’ll wake up some morning having been relieved of some stuff. If we’re not, we have at least done what we could to live out what we say we believe.
And I don’t have to explain to my 5-year old why we turned away the people I told him we should be helping.
Scrapwood 
Matt, that is awesome! I think both my husband and I suffer from, as you put it, “the fear of humanity”. It’s sad that, as a society, we have learned to feel this way. I don’t like it, but it’s where I am right now….especially having small children. I’m working on it and God is working on me….but I struggle.
Wonderful post though. I hope they are the kind-hearted, wonderful people they appear to be and that they will come stay with ya’ll. I’ll look forward to a follow-up post. =)
Rhonda
Thanks Rhonda. He called last night to say they were doing fine and their kids are still looking at the whole thing as an adventure. They are an interesting family, to be sure.