So, this is a little sidetrack from Italy, but last night I could not fall asleep. You know those nights when thoughts are flooding your head at 90 miles a minute and you just can't empty your head for sleep? Yah. It was one of those nights. I was exhausted, mentally and physically, and was literally begging God for sleep. I squeezed my eyes shut and attempted to mentally turn off my thought faucet, but to no avail.
The homeless have been on my mind all this week. As soon as I arrived in Venice my first question I asked my professor was if there was any homeless people on the island, as I had not yet seen one. Ever since, I have passed more than I can count. And as far as I am aware, no homeless shelter exists on the island. As quoted by my professor, "the real estate for a homeless shelter would be far too expensive." So, I asked myself, who is helping them? My heart broke for them, yet every time I saw a man or a woman on the side of the street begging for euros, I would pass by; always in a hurry, or on my way to shop, or to eat. Would Jesus not reach into his pocket and place His money in that beggar's cup? Does God not call on us to be His hands?
"But if anyone has the world's goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God's love abide in him?"
1 John 3:17
Flash forward to me trying to shake these thoughts out of my head as I longed for sleep. I knew this was conviction, and a pretty deep one. I prayed that God would continue putting people in my path that He meant for me to help, and that he would continue convicting me to give.
Today a small group of us walked into a Venetian church known as the Salute (only to view the paintings...not many Jesus lovers in our group). Not two seconds after we stepped through the door, a woman with a small cup in her hands began to haggle us for change. We kept walking. As I wandered around the church, I felt the sharp pang of guilt in my chest. What was I doing? As an Italian minister began to preach in the background, I grabbed my backpack and took out two euros.
No. Give her all of it.
Venice is expensive. I feel like I have been blowing through money since I've gotten here, so this sounded like a horrible idea to me. Plus, who knows what kind of person she is? She already jumped us as soon as we came in. Who knows what she would even use the money for? What if there's someone else out there who would use my money for better purposes?
Do it. Give her all of it.
Still reluctant, I took out all the money I had on me (it wasn't a ton, but it was still more than I would ever hand out to someone just begging for my change). I walked over to the door where she stood, smiled, and dumped it in her cup. I asked her if she understood English in Italian. She said she did not. No matter, I thought. Still smiling, I placed my hand on her arm . "God bless you." I knew she would understand. She thanked me again and again, and I walked out of the church, praying that she would use the money for good purposes and that I had listened well. I then sat on the church steps and started to cry tears of joy, overwhelmed by the privilege to express Christ's love to His children.
This has a point. Not to make you feel ashamed for not giving to every homeless person you've ever passed, but to challenge you to say yes to the Holy Spirit more. He talks to us. Maybe not with words, but with our thoughts, feelings, convictions. If a thought pops into your head and it's something you know would further God's kingdom, well do it, goshdangit. Our lives mean nothing if we're not living for Christ.
That is all.
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