“The rich became poor and the poor became rich.”

 

“We visited a village where the feeding program . . . operated a one-meal-a-day program. . . .  They don’t have the money to feed anyone over age 14 except expectant mothers. . . .”

 

Thus writes Beth Moore about a trip she and her husband took to Angola, Africa, to visit villages involved in, or in need of, feeding programs.

 

There the Moores had an experience almost identical to ours (if you missed my blog post, click on “I still tear up when I think of it—it seemed so wrong, so unnecessary.” It’s a must-read!)

Beth writes that when she and her husband prepared to leave,

 

"I was ushered before the head of the community and his wife. . . . Her white teeth gleamed in the African sun as she smiled ear to ear. She then proudly thrust a bowl toward me that rocked with small eggs. Eggs they needed and that I didn’t."

 

Remember what Beth said:

Those dear folks didn’t have enough money

to feed anyone over age 14 except expectant mothers—

yet they gave to Beth and her husband.

How humbling!

 

Beth continues:

 

"I was taken aback. I wanted to shake my head and insist she keep them, but she was so exuberant in her offering that I couldn’t. With untamed joy they gave a portion of exorbitant expense out of the portion God had given them."

 

Read that again: “With untamed joy they gave a portion of exorbitant expense out of the portion God had given them.”

 

Those dear Angolans were living, breathing, smiling examples of 2 Corinthians 9:7—they didn’t give reluctantly or under pressure, and indeed “God loves a cheerful giver!”

 

Beth admits that as they drove out of the village,

 

"I felt a deep and painful sense of my own poverty. I knew I was poor in my giving. Poor in my sacrificing. Poor in my daily expression of God’s giving heart and woefully rich in all things self.

 

"That day on the edge of the world’s nowhere, God wrote His signature on the sandy ground in the shape of a circular arrow.

 

"I was stricken by the absurdity of an unexpected turnabout. . .  . There before my eyes, the rich became poor and the poor became rich" (Beth Moore, Esther: It’s Tough Being a Woman).

 

Perhaps you’ve experienced something similar.

 

“If the Lord is indeed our shepherd,” writes Frederick Buechner, “then everything goes topsy-turvy. Losing becomes finding and crying becomes laughing. The last become first and the weak become strong” (The Clown in the Belfry).

 

If we pay attention, God gives you and me opportunities to examine our hearts and minds.  Sometimes He does that by upsetting the apple cart—by turning us upside down and inside out and giving us a good shaking in the same way He did for Beth Moore.

 

When He does, how do we respond?

 

“Most of us . . . confront a need for greater self-awareness,” writes Joan Anderson. “We reach a point when . . . the dreams of earlier times seem shallow and pointless. And then we find ourselves asking the tough questions: What am I meant to do now? What really matters? Who am I?” (Joan Anderson, The Second Journey: The Road Back to Yourself)