Determining "Enough"

Started on Saturday, 11/3, finished Sunday, 11/4

I’m writing this as we swerve all over the road trying to avoid potholes on the way to San Juan del Sur, supposedly one of Nicaragua’s best beaches. Lauren’s sister and brother-in-law, Jane and John, are planning on going to Spanish school there in a few months so they generously offered to pay for our hotel if we went down and checked it out. We didn’t have any plans for the weekend so we decided to go.

I’m pretty sure we got scammed at the bus station. As soon as our cab stopped a man resembling a Nicaraguan Gene Nichol (WM’s President) asked where we were going and aggressively directed us to a bus. I tried to make our desire to take a direct bus to San Juan clear but I’m pretty sure we’re on a bus to Rivas, from which we’ll have to take a short taxi to San Juan. After escorting us onto the bus the man stood in front of me demanding una propina (a tip). It’s not a big deal if we have to go to Rivas, though. I’ll count this as a learning experience. (My feeling was correct – our bus went to Rivas and we caught a taxi to the beach).

I’m just glad that we got a bus that will (hopefully) lead us in the right direction. As is to be expected in Nicaragua, the bus station is far from organized or easy to navigate. While the lack of order frustrates the mind, the abundance of street vendors selling food, crafts, and newspapers provides a colorful scene quite pleasing to the eye. All of the commotion gives the setting a chaotic ambience – a setting I’m becoming quite familiar with.

It’s amazing how quickly the dirty, noisy city of Managua disappeared. Within 20 minutes of leaving the bus stop we found ourselves staring out at a beautiful variety of vegetation. Nicaragua is certainly a country of many extremes, with this clear distinction between city and country being the latest example to add to the list.

Despite the clear differences between urban Managua and the countryside, poverty remains a sad and ever-present constant. Like a chameleon, poverty seems to survey its present circumstances and adapt accordingly. While poor kids in Managua favor washing car windshields for money we’ve driven past several groups of kids who use shovels to fill in the aforementioned potholes, then stand by their work with a hand extended towards passing cars. I had the thought that the little kids I just saw could have easily been the kids I hang out with in Managua. Confronting poverty becomes much more uncomfortable when it has faces and names.

Recently I’ve been thinking about the point at which I can, without hesitation, release myself from attempting to give and serve. I’ll try to explain. As someone who’s been blessed abundantly I feel an obligation and, more importantly, a desire to try to bless others. I believe that God calls us to serve others not out of sense of duty, but because He wants us to experience the true, pure joy that comes with giving. I knew that I’ve been given resources – the more important being love – that I am called to share. That’s what I’m trying to do here.

All of that being said, however, I recognize that I cannot try to help everyone I see. This notion has been made quite clear to me here, where need is omnipresent. When is it okay to say “no?” For every child I give money to I probably say no to five. How should I choose which beggars to give money to? How many kids to take to lunch? What do to with my finances? When to return to the States?

I know myself well enough to admit that I am not strong enough to give as much as I ideally would. I would love to see myself spending all day with people in need, even living with them in their neighborhoods. In order to avoid burning out, though, I concede that I need a clean, safe place to sleep and some semi-normal food every day. I am also unwilling to give up easy access to the internet, which allows me to stay in touch with everyone I love.

The first conclusion that I’ve come to is that this question is often driven by guilt and self-imposed pressure. If I feel like I should be doing more I am probably feeling guilty that I’m not. I don’t think that God is too fond of using guilt to bring about change. He seems to prefer compassion. Guilt traps, compassion liberates. It I was purely motivated by a desire to serve I would not worry about this question, instead I would strictly think about how to best love people.

I don’t think there is anything wrong with indulging in some luxuries – I am writing these words on the bus back from a weekend at the beach – as long as one’s heart is set on loving the Lord and others better. To get caught up in this issue would be a detriment to my mission here, assuming my heart is in the right place.

Those are my only conclusions so far. I’d love to hear if anyone has anything to say on the matter, as I am quite far from being an authority on this, or any, issue. Thanks for reading.