A day filled with questions.

How do you tell an unsuspecting 13 year old girl that she just tested positive for HIV?

How do you respond to the cries of a mama who comes to your home early in the morning asking for assistance with school fees for her son?

How do you encourage the dreams of an orphan who longs for an opportunity to go to college?

What do you say to the barefooted street child who is eating a rotten tomato and asking you for bread?

When the man, with no hands and feet, is sitting on the side of the road and says: “Nisaidie” (Help me); what do you do?

I asked myself each of these questions today. For the most part, there were no obvious answers. I encountered blatant, in your face, poverty and disease. And in truth, the brokenness was not only in them. It was in me too. I desired to extend the compassion of Christ, but I also wanted relief from the discomfort and the needs that felt so overwhelming.

I guess another question that should be added to the above list is this: what does it cost to love?

When a child is living on the streets and sniffing glue and you are tempted to ignore him, what does it cost to love him? As far as I can tell, today it cost 75 cents to buy a loaf of bread and a cup of milk. It required 20 minutes of my time to walk with him and to enter, even for a few moments, into his story. For sure, this response is temporary and felt incomplete. People may ask: does this create dependency? The answer is probably. Will this little boy be hungry again tomorrow? Most definitely. But it should also be asked: should we use these as our excuses for doing nothing while the child remains in this madness of suffering? For me, the answer is emphatically no. And is it possible that God could choose a piece of bread to reveal himself through to this hungry child? I pray so. I also hope for the day, for the faith and the ideas that will empower this child, and countless others, out of poverty and injustice for good.

As I was walking with the boy and pondering these thoughts, a man without limbs asked me for help; I looked into his eyes and saw his sadness, and I kept walking. I got about half way down the street and, with each step, knew that love required me to turn around. As I did, I asked God this question: what does it look like to treat this man with dignity, to see the image of the Creator hidden in the midst of brokenness? I did not have any revelations; but as I bent down to place a few coins in the bowl that was before him, I knew that Jesus was present before me. Although I felt unworthy to do so, I spoke words to bless and love him.

Within each of the situations I lived today, there were opportunities, on different levels, to love. I sat with the young girl facing a life filled with HIV/AIDS and listened to her questions, her fears. There was little to say. For the mama needing school fees, I contributed to the harambee (a wonderful practice of “coming together” done by the community). And the orphan who dreams of going to university, today we helped him register to take the SAT exam. By the grace of God, he is one step closer.

I am grateful that, as I recently heard a dear Kenyan friend of mine say: “Africa doesn’t need another Savior. We already have one named Jesus Christ.” Surely, within His love is the power to save. In the midst of questions without answers, this must never be forgotten. However, I would add, as Richard Stearns writes, a challenge to all who call themselves followers of Christ. It is this: “We are the carriers of the gospel—the good news that was meant to change the world. Belief is not enough. Worship is not enough. Personal morality is not enough. And Christian community is not enough. God has always demanded more. When we committed ourselves to following Christ, we also committed to living our lives in such a way that a watching world would catch a glimpse of God’s character—His love, justice, and mercy—through our words, actions, and behavior. ‘We are . . . Christ’s ambassadors,’ wrote the apostle Paul, ‘as though God were making his appeal through us’ (2 Cor. 5:20). God chose us to be His representatives. He called us to go out, to proclaim the ‘good news’—to be the ‘good news’—and to change the world. Living out our faith privately was never meant to be an option.”