Faith by Itself…is Dead

“Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to him, ‘Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed,‘ but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it? In the same way, faith by itself, if not accompanied by action, is dead.” James 2:14

Once my faith was dead. Void of action. Lost in the emotional and intellectual realm. God was nothing more than a compassionate cosmic genie and I lived in a world where I was always the guest of honor. What I wanted trumped God’s purposes for mankind. I seemed to read the Bible selectively. If what God had to say filled my emotional void or made a promise of future fulfillment, I prayed it and claimed it. Somehow I never had time or never noticed that God wanted more than a prayer of salvation or my worship on Sunday morning. Then I met Maria.

It was Easter at the start of the new millennium. The year 2000, the year I was hoping God would finally give me what I wanted most—a husband. I went to church that Easter morning with my family, silently telling God that He has let me down by not following my well thought out plan for my life. Married by 2000, children by 2004…I had it all planned out.

The Easter offering at our church has always been designated for the HIV/AIDS orphans and widows of Rakai, Uganda. Up to this point HIV/AIDS was nothing more than a word I had heard occasionally on the news. Just before they collected the morning offering, a video showing Ugandan children crying at the gravesites of their parents was played in full picture and in stereo. The deep grief and despair was so intense. It seemed to fill the air and I felt as though I was breathing it in and a great swell of emotion began to work its way to the surface. I was bewildered at the strong reaction I had to the video and simultaneously unnerved by the pain I saw in the eyes of the children. I was having a hard time controlling my emotions, so I decided to get up and leave the sanctuary.

As I paced around the bathroom, I felt this deep sense of sadness. It was a kind of empathy I had never experienced before. It was as if God was letting me experience just a teeny tiny bit of the love and concern he has for those suffering with this terrible disease. I knew I was in unchartered emotional territory. After pushing the overwhelming grief and despair back into the pit of my stomach, I walked out to the annex outside of the sanctuary. I immediately noticed a table decorated with African linens and covered with World Vision sponsorship folders. Just then a still quiet voice whispered, “Sponsor a child.” In light of my recent emotional unraveling, I decided against it and continued walking. Then the quiet thought came again, “sponsor a child.”

For a reason I still haven’t figured out, I stopped dead in my tracks, turned around and walked directly up to the sponsorship table. I knew with my emotions so close to the surface, I needed to sponsor a child quickly. So, I picked up the first sponsorship folder I saw. This beautiful black face was staring blankly back at me. Her name was Maria and she was 7 and a half. Both her parents had died of AIDS and she was currently living with her grandmother.

Over the next year, I wrote to Maria and she wrote back to me. We began to share our lives with each other. She was excited to be back in school and to have her school fees paid in full. Her family was saving money to buy bricks in order to construct a new home and they were eating on a regular basis. She was polite and friendly in her letters, but I developed this longing to know her more deeply. It was at that time that God whispered the next phase of His plan in my ear. He said, “Go to Africa. See her in person.” I thought What?!! Are you crazy?!! I’m not a mission groupie. I don’t eat weird food, protest foreign wars and wear bizarre clothes. I live in the suburbs, shop at The Gap, and love pizza and apple pie.

I continued to argue with God about this bizarre request. I had a million excuses. I get carsick easily. I am a fearful flyer. My school district would never let me leave during standardized testing. I cry at Foldgers commercials. I faint at the sight of blood. Well, fortunately God was patient with me and allowed me to throw an enormous tantrum. God was going to change me, even if I went kicking and screaming.

So in February 2001, I boarded a plane for Uganda . As soon as I landed on African soil, I felt an overwhelming sense of God’s presence. He wanted me to see who He was and what mattered to Him. It suddenly dawned on me that a relationship with Jesus went both ways--me sharing myself with Him, AND Him sharing Himself with me. That concept alone shook me to my core. Could it be that God had created me to love those he loves and that the wealth he had given me wasn’t just for me? Suddenly, I felt the need to rethink everything.

The day finally arrived to meet Maria and her family. My stomach was in knots and I was a bundle of nerves. Could I handle what I was about to see? I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to recognize her, but as I stepped off the bus my eyes locked with hers. Maria came walking toward me and then knelt down in front of me and hugged my knees. Immediately, I dropped down to the ground and just held her.

We then traveled back to her home in order to meet her grandmother. Maria and I walked hand in hand toward the house and I noticed an old woman rushing toward us and I knew immediately who it was. As her grandmother reached me, she enveloped me into a bear hug while kissing the sides of my face and shouting something in L’Ugnadan over and over in my ear. I asked the translator what she was saying and he said, she is saying, “Thank you, Thank you, thank God for you.” I was stunned. What had I done to receive this kind of gratitude?

She then showed me the simple two-room mud hut they live in and the bricks they are buying to build a more permanent house. She showed me the goats, coffee plants, and a banana plantation they had received as a part of my sponsorship. Her grandmother also walked me out to the mounds of stones beside her house. She explained that all her children and their spouses had died of AIDS and that she was still in deep pain over their loss. It was all almost too much to take in at once.

The grandmother then led me over to a chair under a crude tent in front of her home. By this time the whole village had come over to welcome me. She motioned for me to sit in the chair and explained that it was a place of honor for me. Maria came over and sat in my lap and I imagined that she missed doing this with her own mother. Her grandmother then knelt in front of me and proceeded to shower me with gifts. First, I received a bright beautiful basket, and then a basket full of eggs, fruit, and vegetables. The translator then explained that she was giving me all the food that the family would eat that day as a symbol of her gratitude. This family fasted and went hungry in order to sacrifice for me, the way they believed I was sacrificing for them. The grandmother then went inside her hut and gave me her sleeping mat so that I could place it in my house in order to remember their gratitude for all I had done for them. Big tears rolled down my face and I sat there sobbing and speechless. In my mind I saw my own selfishness and self-centeredness and it grieved me to realize that up to this point my life had really just been about me.

As I sat there trying to rein my emotions back in, Maria’s grandmother asked if she could share her story with me. As I was still speechless, I nodded my head yes. She looked off in the distance and then told me how each of her four children and their spouses had died of AIDS. She said that the grief was unbearable. She then communicated how scared she was for her grandchildren. She was unsure how she would feed them, clothe them, and send them to school. She had nightmares about not being able to provide for her grandchildren and of watching them die of malnutrition.

She said that one night she got to the brink of despair and fell to her knees and sobbed all night and repeatedly cried out to God to help her. Then her face brightened a little and she recalled how two weeks after that terrible night, a World Vision staff member came to her house to tell her that I had sponsored their family. She said that she danced and celebrated God’s help in their darkest moment. She then turned to me and asked me a question that I will never forget, “Kari, How did God tell you about us?”

I just sat there and cried. It seemed as if the whole last year flashed before my eyes. Could it be that God had used this self centered suburbanite to meet the deepest need of an African family devastated by AIDS? I was absolutely overwhelmed with the thought that God had used me for His purpose or that I had a greater purpose than just praying for what I wanted. It was so humbling to realize how backwards and dead my faith had been and exhilarating to know that God was leading me into a new faith. One where the poor play center stage and I would live differently.

My selfish heart was damaged that day and I am eternally grateful. In breaking my heart and replacing it with something that breaks His heart, I was given the awesome privilege of not only knowing Jesus but serving Him. It all became much clearer, faith is about action—meeting physical, emotional and spiritual needs of other people. Isn’t that what Jesus said—love God with all your heart, mind and soul and your neighbor as yourself. My eyes were now opened to the fact that my neighbor was hungry, naked and oppressed. It was time to act. Finally, my faith began to breathe and really live.

Have you taken the pulse of your faith lately?

If you have never sponsored a child, please take a moment to do so. May your faith always be marked with action! Just click on the World Vision link on this blog site.