What We've Gotten Used To

On one of our family fishing trips last month, I (Heather) took along the book Revolution in World Missions that we received from the mission organization Gospel for Asia. In it the founder of GFA, K. P. Yohannan, tells his story and of his call to missions.

K. P. was born and raised in India, traveled around Asia and even to Germany in his young adult years, but nothing prepared him for coming to the United States for school in the 70's. Chapter four is entitled "I Walked in a Daze", and tells of his first impressions of our country.

"Americans are more than just unaware of their affluence-- they almost seem to despise it at times... I stared in amazement at how they treated their beautiful clothes and shoes. The richness of the fabrics and colors was beyond anything I had ever seen.

As I would do many times-- almost daily-- in the weeks ahead, I compared their clothing to that of the native missionary evangelists whom I had left only a few weeks before. Many of them walk barefoot between villages or work in flimsy sandals. Their threadbare cotton garments would not be acceptable as cleaning rags in the United States. Then I discovered most Americans have closets full of clothing they wear only occasionally-- and I remembered the years I traveled and worked with only the clothes on my back. And I had lived the normal lifestyle of most village evangelists."

Then K.P. quotes economist Robert Heilbroner's stunning description of what we as Americans would relinquish if we were to live like the poor in developing countries. As ONE BILLION hungry people do on this earth.

"We begin by invading the house of our imaginary American family to strip it of its furniture. Everything goes: beds, chairs, tables, television sets, lamps. We will leave the family with a few old blankets, a kitchen table, a wooden chair. Along with the bureaus go the clothes. Each member of the family may keep in his wardrobe his oldest suit or dress, a shirt or blouse. We will permit a pair of shoes for the head of the family, but none for the wife or children.

We move to the kitchen. The appliances have already been taken out, so we turn to the cupboards... The box of matches may stay, a small bag of flour, some sugar and salt. A few moldy potatoes, already in the garbage can, must be rescued, for they will provide much of tonight's meal. We will leave a handful of onions and a dish of dried beans. All The rest we take away: the meat, the fresh vegetables, the canned goods, the crackers, the candy.

Now we have stripped the house: the bathroom has been dismantled the running water shut off, the electric wires taken out. Next we take away the house. The family can move to the tool shed... Communications must go next. No more newspapers, magazines, books-- not that they are missed, since we must take away out family's literacy as well. Instead, in our shantytown we will allow one radio..."

Every time I read something like this, I don't really feel guilty, but I feel sad, I feel lost, I feel far from my identity as a child of God. I feel worldly. I have bought the lies that come with our affluence. We need this, that would make life easier, those things would no doubt bring happiness. Sometimes I make excuses: We bought the cheapest house on the market in Woodland Park five years ago, most people we know have more square footage, more furniture, better windows, more gadgets. Hey... we just gave away our TV and DVD player. That means we are living simply and remembering the rest of the world, right? Not really. I find myself thinking of what we need to buy before we leave for Kenya. We always can think of a home improvement project to do. There's always a good reason it seems like to put our money toward improving our image.

I don't think that moving to the shed is what these words are telling us to do (we'd like to keep our kids in our custody) but maybe re-evaluating our definition of NEED is a good place to start.