Inconvenient Service

A couple of weeks ago I was in Chicago for an Urban Project with InterVarsity. We spent three days serving with local ministries there and I had the privilege of partnering with Grace and Peace, a Christian church in Hermosa, Chicago. It is located in a primarily latino neighbourhood and truly seeks to meet the needs of its community.

For three days, we served and helped them run their after school program for children in the Chicago Public School system. I loved speaking Spanish with the children and encouraging them to finish their homework.

One day, we also helped the church run their food pantry. We helped them set up and brought clothing out for the clothing closet as well. As we set up, I struck up conversation with several of the volunteers. I learned that they traveled to Hindsdale, a city over 30 minutes away to pick up donated food from a grocery store there. I asked why they didn't turn to grocery stores closer by, but they explained that all the closer grocery stores were already donating their food to other food pantries in the area.

And so, this church decided that a food pantry was a necessary service for those in their community and committed to make the drive on a weekly basis in order to serve their community better. I was so impressed. This attitude of service reminded me that serving others is rarely convenient. If we wait to serve others when it fits into our schedule, when it doesn't take too much time, when I can squeeze it in, then we will serve others rarely.

This church was a beautiful example of inconvenient service. They opened up their building five days a week to dozens of children. They had to schedule worship practices and weekly meetings around this after school program. They drove to Hindsale to pick up groceries. They made hospital visits to church members and refused to stay only 15 minutes. This church practiced inconvenient service every day of the week.

I was humbled and blessed to serve alongside them.

Growing up, race wasn't talked about very often. We didn't think of people as black, white or brown as much as we did American, Colombian or Korean. The idea of being a minority was new to me until I got to university.

I stood out in Colombia, that's for sure. My light colored hair and my green eyes were definitely rare. I was quite a bit taller than most women and my pale skin didn't help me blend in with the beautiful brown skin tones. I was used to being in a room where I looked different than the people around me. But I didn't feel like a "minority."

Then, at the University of Illinois, I self-identified as Latina, but my Caucasian features never set me apart as one. If not for my self-identification, I'd easily pass for a white girl from the Chicago suburbs. And so, my "minority status" really didn't have much of an impact on my daily life.

But last week I spent the week at the Chicago Urban Project (CUP). I was a volunteer staff leader and joined dozens of university students on the west side of Chicago. Including staff and students, there were five of us who were ethnically white. There were three black individuals, eight latinos and the rest of the individuals were Asian or Asian American. Certainly, it was a feeling of displacement.

I felt like a minority.

Did people make comments about me being white? No.
Did I ever feel insulted because I was white? No.
Was I discriminated against? Absolutely not.

And yet, the whole time, I was so aware of my skin color.

I was able to identify with friends who have shared with me that they are the only brown or black person in a certain environment. I'd instantly jump into a protective mode asking if they felt discriminated against, or excluded or anything. The answer was generally "no," but it didn't stop them from being extremely aware of their own skin color.

I began wondering whether I would become less aware the longer I stayed in that environment, or would I only be less aware in white-majority environments? Could this be something I got used to? Would it wear off? Did I want it to ever go away? Could I even live in a majority-white environment and be aware of my white skin or would I sink back into a complacent hole of normality?

And while I was hyper-aware of my skin color and of those around me, I was also sensitive to the strong love and acceptance in the room. Our differences didn't separate, didn't divide; there was a breakthrough from tolerance into love. Watching that happen confirmed the beautiful them of the week: "God's Good News for our Broken World." My awareness of race and ethnicity that week certainly opened my eyes to a lot of the brokenness in our world, but I was able to personally experience some of God's news... and that was great news!

Humbled. Still Need Him.

I've been humbled over the last two months. Really humbled. I've come face-to-face with my own inability to get it done or to make it happen and have really had to step back and ask God, "Now, what are you thinking? What now?"

You see, Lucas and I are going to the Amazon in April. He'll be serving on a medical team, and quite honestly, I'm the least useful piece in the puzzle... but I'm sure I'll find a way to help through translating or getting odd jobs done. We'll be leaving about one month from today. We've been fundraising and trying to get our support in. And it has barely come in. Slowly.

In January, I just figured we needed more time. People had only just received our letters and the trip wasn't for several months, so maybe the idea of supporting the trip was simply put on the back-burner. I figured that once I talked to my family's home church, when we contacted Lucas' church and when we approached our current church's leadership, then the support would start streaming in. But sadly, we still find ourselves at four percent of our fundraising goal.

Looking back, the pride is so easy to see. I think back on previous mission trips I've served on, and remember how quickly the funds came in. I remember Lucas' trips to Kenya, and am also amazed by God's provision. I thought that fundraising for this trip would be "a breeze." You see, the entire trip only costs us $5,000. Of those $5,000, at least half is going to be used for medications and supplies and supporting others on the trip. So between two of us, with twice the network, I figured it'd be easy. Sadly, I admit that I didn't really pray for our fundraising process much. Wait, I lied. I didn't pray for it at all. I didn't have faith because I didn't think faith would be necessary.

And as we prepare for this trip, knowing that a hit of $5,000 will be hard on our finances at the moment, I am brought to my knees. I need Jesus to raise $200 or to raise $20,000. The amount being raised is really inconsequential; it doesn't matter. The faith behind it must be the same. I cannot assume that $5,000 will just "simply come." I'm getting ready to buy our plane tickets this next week and have been reminded over and over and over again in the last weeks of my deep need for Jesus.

Yup, I will never never outgrow that need.