Helping Myself

When helping people in the developing world I always get the inescapable feeling that I’m helping Jesus. Yesterday, here in Nashville, I also got to help myself.

The bottom floor of his homes were flooded. We tore one of them down to the studs and subflooring. It took a team of ten the whole day. Everything was waterlogged and covered in mud.

An award from ASCAP for songwriting. I’ve got one of those.

A platinum record. Me too.

Boxes of CDs stacked in closets. I’ve got the same stacks going in my garage.

File folders of royalty statements. Binders of lyrics. Reels and cassettes and CDs archiving demos and song ideas. Yep, I know them well.

Computers. Cables. Amps. Guitars. Same thing at my place.

Everything worth drying off, cleaning up and keeping was carried out of this songwriter’s house and laid on the front porch by our team. Tools and souvenirs from decades of music making. I felt like I was unpacking my home, my life – a less successful version of it anyway.

One member of our team struggled out loud with spending her day off work helping this guy when there are others worse off. After all, this guy is rich by the world’s standards.

Aren’t we all?

He’s you and me…and her.

And if rich people like us are worth the expense of God’s Son, well, I figure we’re easily worth spending a few hours of demolition on too.

Aren’t we?

If you’re in the Nashville area, Crosspoint and Hands On Nashville still need your time and muscle. If you’re from somewhere else and have a few bucks to invest in our neighbors, you can donate to either organization as well.

Thanks for loving the least, even when they have more than most.