Keepin' it Real

Well, how do I keep my faith real? What do I keep believing in? And when do I ever need to "keep believing," anyway? I am not faced daily with the notion of needing anything. It is easy sometimes to hide behind my physical needs: as long as I am rested and fed, I am somehow complete. But it's not the whole truth, and this complete feeling is sometimes a delusion that masks the reality of my needs. I need need need Christ's assurance of my ingrafted status as a Child of God. I need it tangibly and I need it every day. I need Christ's definition of my identity again and again, solid reminders that I am full of value, enough to motivate his dying on the cross for me.

Somehow, hearing it isn't enough; it takes more to realize my identity and my dependency. And though I don't mind admitting that I am pretty thick-skulled, I've noticed that plenty of people have difficulty understanding the day-to-day implications of actually believing that what Jesus said is real: that he is the light of the world, that he gives living water, that he has come to heal the sick, that he has made the last to be first. You know what keeps it real to me? Asking Jesus to help me when I have a need.

Today I asked Jesus to calm my heart down. I was in deep need: I kept thinking about a situation that worried me, and I couldn't muster a good attitude while I was at work. A good attitude is half the reason I was hired, so it is, in a sense, my bread and butter. I went to the back hallway and paced up and down, praying for something to help--anything at all. God changed my attitude. I didn't just put on a brave face: I was transformed, I turned a corner, something... I have no idea, because it was a miracle. But that's not all. This miracle today, while it may sound minor now that I've written it down, was a pretty big deal to me. The thing is, it's just one of a lot of things the Lord has done for me! I'm serious! He's reassured my heart about an upcoming trip to Mexico, too. Mid-August, I'm planning to take two of my neighbor kids to Mexico to see their family for 10 days. I wasn't sure how I would ever be able to afford the time off work, let alone the spending money it may require. But I'm going to do it. And I feel complete confidence that it will all be fine. The Lord knows exactly what I need, and before I see it, it is good to know that He's already allotted a way to meet my needs. How does he do that? When I reassure myself with the fact that he is indeed my Provider, I wonder why are there some people starving? How can I claim this promise when others have more faith and still don't have what their bodies need? Are their hearts full?

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Poverty sometimes comes and sits beside me.
Sometimes at dinner. Sometimes as I walk to my house.
She has come to my place of work, stood in my alleyway.
She has looked into my windows, standing on the porch.

Poverty sometimes comes and sits beside me.

And sits silently. Letting me look at her eyes, sunken into a skin-covered skull.
She does not resist my kindness: she accepts my rations.
She sucks them clean to the bone.
And still she is not filled.
Her hair grows thin and wispy above temples exposed to the sun and baked dry.

She cannot be pacified with mere anything.
She must be rebuilt: refreshed with rain and rekindled with mirth.
And maybe she will show her sisters that she has been made new.
And maybe they will never go thirsty again.