A broken city

I think it finally hit me today as I was getting off the train, I am living in Sydney. It’s one of those cities you always hear about…just like New York, Los Angeles, Paris, London…but I’m not only here, I’m a part of this city. I ride the train, ride the bus, and walk the streets of Sydney. I know where the grocery stores, the restaurants, and the places of leisure are. This has become my city. And each day I am here, I begin to feel the burden. I’m sitting in our 11th floor apartment that overlooks Hyde Park watching the sun go down on a city where businessmen might be wrapping up their workday, schoolchildren are catching trains to go home, and homeless people are thankful that they have made it through another day, wondering if there is anything to live for. This is a reality. It’s easy to brush it off when you are removed from it. This week has made it impossible for me to just brush off. Monday, Rachel and I stopped to talk to a woman outside Woolworth’s. She had some paintings set up to sell. We learned that she just recently had a baby but had to give it up because she could not provide for it. She is living with a friend and trying to save money to get a place of her own, so she can reunite her own family and all live together. The past two days we have worked in a soup kitchen. It’s easy to judge them. It’s easy to even brush it off after serving them food, but sit down and have a conversation with them and it’s impossible. Today, one man talked for about an hour about how he used to have joy in his life, he was married. But now he doesn’t have anything to live for. He would just assume end his life. He so desperately wants someone to tell him he has worth, that he is valuable. The feeler in me hurt for him and the pain he is going through but I couldn’t voice the truth that he needed to hear. Brandon did though—that the only thing that would bring true fulfillment and the only reason to wake up is Jesus Christ. Just like when talking with the Muslim woman last week, this was an enlightening moment for me. I began to see the Gospel from someone else’s perspective. In fact, believing the Gospel is easy for me. I live a fairly easy life. In fact, I don’t even put complete faith in Christ because I so often put faith in myself as well. But this man, the Gospel is hard for him to accept because he sees all the bad stuff in his life and can’t believe in a God who would allow that. To quote him “The only place God has carried me is to hell.” Putting faith in that God is difficult for him. And it challenges my faith. This man needs Christ.

I so desperately want to make a difference. But what is my motivation? To make my own name great? So that I can go home and tell everybody all these cool things that God has done through me? In fact, God has worked more in my own heart than he has worked through my hands. And I know without a shadow of a doubt, that’s exactly where he wants me. If nothing else, God has broken me of my own plans, my own comforts, and torn down my kingdom that I have worked for years to build up. We have 9 days left in this city. My prayer is that the Lord continues to teach me, to mold me, and to completely turn my world upside down.