They come out of the woodwork during every blogging trip. Women – always women – posting and e-mailing and calling Compassion because they don’t like a woman – always a woman – I’ve chosen to take overseas.
Don’t you know…
Her marriage is broken.
Her past is checkered.
She’s so dramatic.
She’s lying about not having a TV.
She’s a hypocrite.
She’s a Republican.
She’s just plain annoying.
Suspicion. Assumption. Judgment.
Or is that my judgment? So hard to tell.
Their words are not always without merit, mind you, but so often strike me as judgment nonetheless. Not the timbre of concern or love but hate – riddled with name calling and threats and depleted of all rationality by CAPITALS and exclamation marks!!!!!!!!
One of the many lessons the third world has sung into me over the years is humility. And oh how I need it!
Face to face with persevering saints, who hold up under more than I could bear, who love enemies more ferocious than my own, who share their little, who pray unselfishly, who smile in darkness undaunted – I’m humbled. Face to face with problems I cannot fix and questions I cannot answer – I’m forcibly humbled.
Again and again.
From places where everything is so obviously technicolor grace I return more gracious. Little by little.
What irony that trips to such places unleash so much ungraciousness across the interwebs.
But I too have been ungracious. Much more so. I’m certainly no better.
Humility’s song is finished. By the looks of my inbox I think it’s well worth a listen today.
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