Tag: Living With (But Not In) Poverty

My struggle has not ceased.

However, I have learned a great deal about poverty in these last few years. I’ve read somegreat bookson the subject. I’ve learned from a few amazing, talented, passionate friends here in Tanzania who know so much about alleviating poverty through community development. I’ve witnessed the impact of various economic systems both in Tanzanian and the U.S.

And so I don’t feel so helpless anymore. I still feel the urge to do more, and I pray often that God will convict me as to how He wants me to better use the resources He has given me. I don’t have all the answers. But I am starting to get a picture of what some of the answers might be.

And that’s what I want to share with you. Because the things I have learned are universal; they don’t just apply to Africa.

So here we go.

Lesson #1:

When it comes to helping alleviate poverty, and to what God expects from me, God doesn’t want just my money.

We’ve established that I am rich. You are rich. We have far more money at our disposal than the vast majority of people in the world.

But it’s not just how we use our money that God will hold us responsible for.

I am a healthy person. And I have access to excellent health care. Thus, I should have more energy to devote to serving others than most people in the world, who regularly, daily, struggle with health issues and have no options (not even WebMD!).

I am an educated person. Since I have some post-college graduate training, I am one of the most educated people in the world. How am I using my education to further God’s kingdom? How I am wisely using the money and time that was invested in my education? Since I know about the suffering in the world—of the unborn, of persecuted Christians, of those who are in slavery, how will I be held accountable for that knowledge?

I am a citizen of a country that allows religious freedom (most of the time!). I am living in another country that also allows religious freedom. Am I taking advantage of the opportunities for the gospel that gives me?

I am rich in spiritual resources. The number of Christian books, sermons, songs, and translations of the Bible that are available to me at the click of my finger is mind-boggling. I have a better grasp of theology than most African pastors–not because I am more worthy or have more faith, but simply because I am American and have infinite opportunity to learn. Yet why is my faith so much weaker than theirs?

And of course, the fact that I am a financially rich person also provides for more than just nice things. I don’t need to labor all day to provide food for my family, so I have more time for service. I am able to take lovely vacations, so I should be all the more useful and productive as a result.

I am a Ten Talent Servant. Am I using all of them? Am I putting to use all of the abundant resources God has given me?

We hear about those pastors in India who travel around by bicycle. They get beaten up a lot by people who hate them. They sleep under the stars and rely on the generosity of others in order to eat. They have been given One Talent when it comes to resources and money and health. They have nothing, yet they are furthering God’s kingdom in amazing ways.

So if they have One and are doing all that, and I have Ten, shouldn’t I be doing ten times as much?

Keep reading: Part 3

Lessons from Living With (But Not In) Poverty (Part 1)

By Amy Medina

On February 5, 2012

In Other

I am an aristocrat.

So are you.

I am one of the richest people in the world. And I don’t mean that figuratively. I mean that literally. I do not own a plane, or a boat, or even a house. But I am one of the richest people in the world. Filthy, stinkin’ rich.

I want you to please clickherefor a moment. Please. Then go on and read what else I have to say.

Did you do it? Did you enter your family’s income?

Yeah. Sobering, isn’t it?

Oh, I’ve heard the excuses. “But the cost of living in the United States is so much higher than anywhere else. We need more money just to get by.”

Oh yes. True. But the standard of living is also much higher.

You are one of the richest people in the world. I know this because you own a computer, otherwise you wouldn’t be reading this. And if you own a car and have a college education, that puts you in the top 7%.

It’s difficult to fathom this when you are surrounded by people who have as much, or more, than you do. But that doesn’t make it any less true.

I don’t know about you, but aristocrat doesn’t really bring to mind positive images. Rather, I think of Marie Antoinette saying, Let them eat cake. We think of aristocrats as the very rich who revel in their wealth and ignore the poor at their doorstep.

Are we that far from that description?

I’ve been thinking about this in biblical terms. Remember the parable of the talents? Each servant was given a different amount of money, and the amount didn’t matter, just the responsibility.

Well. If you go back to that website and see where you fall on the Global Rich List, can you claim anything other than 10 talents?

I am a Ten Talent Servant. So are you. We are at the top of the heap. We are the aristocracy of the world.

And we will be held responsible as such.

I have always, every day of my life, had enough to eat. My closet has always been crammed with clothes. My housing options have been numerous. My educational options have been even greater. The sky is the limit; I can practically do anything and go anywhere if I really wanted to. I can read any book in English; any kind of information is available to me.

I have never lived in fear of starvation. I have never been raped by a soldier who is supposed to protect me. I have never had to put my children to bed hungry. I have never been faced with the decision of leaving a child behind to die of starvation alone, or to get the rest of my family to a refugee camp. I have never lived in fear of a brutal dictator. I have never had to worry about where or how my children will go to school. If my children get sick, I can afford the best medical care in the country. And if that’s not good enough, I have insurance to fly them somewhere else.

The more I learn about the suffering in the world, the more I am amazed that I have been spared from it. The more humbled I am. Every difficulty in my life that I have faced is nothing, nothing, nothing compared to the suffering that billions of people in this world face every day.

I am so rich.

I am so cared for.

I have so much opportunity.

I have Ten Talents.

I am an aristocrat.

And that changes my perspective on everything.

To whom much has been given, much will be required.

Keep reading: Part 2

Living With (But Not In) Poverty

By Amy Medina

On September 18, 2008

In Other

What would it be like if your next door neighbor lived in a tin shack with no running water or electricity, and rarely had enough food to go around?

This is my tension.

Dar es Salaam is a city of 4 million people. It is growing economically in leaps and bounds. The fancy hotels are overflowing with visitors here on business. New banks seem to be opening every week, with lines that go out the door. Our school, HOPAC, which costs $4000 per year for tuition, is bursting at the seams with a waiting list a mile long. The only other high quality international school in the city, IST, which costs more than $12,000 per year, is also bursting at the seams. There are many wealthy people in this city.

However, the vast majority are not. Thankfully, we don’t see starving people in Dar es Salaam the way we did when I lived in Ethiopia as a teenager. There are people starving in Tanzania, and I’m sure even in the city, but it’s not the norm. But that doesn’t mean that the majority are very far above it.

Earlier this week, my house worker, Esta, asked me for an advance on her monthly pay. I asked her what she needed it for and she said that her husband still hasn’t found work and they are out of food. Since she had received her salary less than two weeks ago, the fact that she is asking for an advance for food is not a good thing.

I gave her the advance, and some food, but inside I felt sick. Esta has worked for us for two years and is such a dear woman. She is about my age, been married for two years, and has a baby girl who she brings to work with her. She is a believer and is full of joy. But her life is hard. She and her husband rent two small rooms. Not a two bedroom house—two rooms. One for sitting and one for sleeping. She cooks outside and uses an outhouse. They have electricity but rarely use it. They do not have running water. Esta’s husband has been out of work now for over a year. There is a 40% unemployment rate in this city.

We pay Esta about $80 per month, and this is her only job. In addition, we pay for almost all of their rent and cover all of the medical expenses for her and her baby. If she is still working for us when her daughter goes to school, we will help with school fees too. We pay over the going rate. Yet….we’re talking only $80 a month to live on, folks.

Then there’s our life. We live in a four bedroom house that is (sort of) similar to an American house, though rent is about 4 times cheaper here. We have all the amenities, except for a dryer or dish washer, but I have Esta. We own one ten-year-old car. My pantry is always full of food.

We are not living extravagantly by American standards. When we moved here, we carefully thought through our standard of living. We have been purposeful about the location and size of our house—we chose all the details for very specific ministry-related reasons. We live at or below the standard of living compared to the other HOPAC families. In fact, most of the Tanzanian kids at HOPAC live far above us.

Yet I live with constant tension between our lifestyle and that of so many of the people around us—even those about 100 yards from our house. The truth is, even if we lived at a lower standard, as some of the missionaries in the villages do, we would still have more than most Tanzanians. We never have to worry about having enough to eat. We never have to worry about money for a sick child. We are allowed plane trips to the States every couple of years. Our children are guaranteed an excellent education and all the opportunity they will ever desire.

When Gil and I go out to dinner, I think about how that one dinner was a week’s wage for many people in the city. If we go to a hotel for our anniversary for a night, we could easily spend a month’s wage of an average Tanzanian. I think about it when I buy dog food. Or Pringles. Or books. Or anything that goes beyond basic living expenses.

Sometimes I just want to run away from it all. It’s just too hard. When Esta asked me for the advance for food, I just wanted to leave Tanzania and go back to America. I often just want to pretend that poverty isn’t really there. Of course, living in the States doesn’t make poverty go away. But in America, surrounded by people who live in luxury, it’s easier to live in denial.

Of course, not everyone is rich in America. But even the poorest have electricity, running water (that won’t make you sick if you drink it), shoes, free education for their children, food stamps, presents at Christmas, a TV, and often even a car and a computer. More importantly, people in America have opportunity to get ahead. Most of the rest of the world does not.

But there are no easy answers. How do we remain generous while staying within economic and cultural norms in Africa? What is the balance between generosity and fostering unhealthy dependence? How many “creature comforts” of western life can still glorify God? How do we really distinguish between “needs” and “wants” (which are very much defined by our culture)? Why do my kids get to experience Disneyland, bubble baths, dress-up clothes, swimming pools, and university, and the kids around the corner do not? Why has God allowed us to have so much and so many to have so little? And what is our responsibility in the midst of that?

Think on poverty, my friends. Though I want to run away from it, God never desires us to put our heads in the sand. When not confronted with it head-on, it’s easy to pretend it doesn’t exist. In the end, I’m thankful I live with this tension. Heaven forbid I start pretending that this life really is heaven, and that I “deserve” comfort—as I am often so tempted.

When my struggle ceases, I will be either in sin, or in Heaven.

Tag: Living With (But Not In) Poverty

Lessons from Living With (But Not In) Poverty (Part 2)

Lessons from Living With (But Not In) Poverty (Part 1)

Living With (But Not In) Poverty