“They Struggle in Life”
Well, here we go again, I thought. More marathon reading about the world’s destitute.
Sounds a little callous, doesn’t it? But I was trying to gather some courage. This was not the first time I had been given this assignment, and I knew it would affect me emotionally.
An international social service agency’s American sponsors gave so disadvantaged families across borders and oceans could have food, clean water, medicine, clothes and shoes, schooling, and training resources. They needed regular updates on how their contributions were making a difference, and that’s where I came in. It was my job to smooth out those reports, written by in-country social workers who, though educated and dedicated, did not count English as their first language. It was a privilege to make a difference in my own way. So despite the inevitable sadness, I plunged in with a deep breath, a prayer, and determination. After all, I had learned so much from this work.
I should have known God had more for me to learn.
Before long, I noticed a phrase one social worker used as she explained the current status of many of her families, despite the help they were receiving: “They struggle in life.” At first I thought she had settled on a new way to ensure each sponsor realized their contribution mattered. But as I began to emotionally sink into the circumstances of those families, I came to believe she was sharing a particular cry from her heart: These families are not merely without, but struggling with a scope and depth that demands this four-word summary of their existence. They are crushed and they are broken. Poverty weighs on them so heavily, and improving their lives to the point they can be self-sufficient is so improbable, that they are not only struggling physically but emotionally, spiritually, and in every way you can possibly imagine.
She didn’t actually say all that, but I heard it anyway. And you know what? My imagination was the problem.
As I thought about this, I realized how often I imagined the suffering of the poor to be sad yet primarily physical, despite my being aware of the oppression, abuse, and being “put aside” so many of the poor experience. How must it feel to not be able to lift yourself up and out? How must it feel to have no choice but to depend on others to feed your children; in fact, to keep them alive? How must it feel to have no idea what an opportunity looks like because you are too sick to take advantage of one even if it comes?
Too often I was not embracing the full emotional and spiritual impact of those kinds of circumstances so many among “the least of these” face.
Many Americans—Christian or not—do not spend all they have, reaping to the very edges of their resources (Lev. 19:9–10). They give to meet the needs of those in poverty, especially extreme poverty. Others work diligently to deliver goods and services as a vocation or as volunteers. And thank God for all those who give and for the avenues available to help, including through Christian charitable organizations that also provide counseling and spiritual guidance.
But may we be ever mindful of the full scope and depth of need for those who are crushed and broken—for those who not only suffer, but struggle in life in ways we can hardly imagine.
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Jean Kavich Bloom is a champion coffee drinker and mostly productive, pink-bathrobed freelance editor and writer. She does not garden, bake, or knit but says playing Scrabble is exactly the same thing. Jean and her husband, Cal, live in Indiana. They have three children (plus two who married in) and five grandchildren. You can read her blog at bloominwordstoo.blogspot.com.
Photograph by, David Mark.
