beyond the front porch

It hit me today why so few of us are willing or daring enough to leave our front porches. I mean that sort of figuratively, but I also come from 2 cities that breed people who often remain in place their entire lives. They are great towns, perfect for raising kids, enjoying the cinema, or going to dinner. But in many respects they are not hard. They are not tough places of crime, poverty, disease, hardships. Of course, these realities exist and must be met, even in the small scale of these said towns.
But I currently live with adults and children who would be rich by our poorest standards. These friends of mine have families that suffer from terrible, terminal diseases just because there’s no available care near by or they lack sufficient funds. People live in shacks of tin roofs because their country doesn’t use credit cards to “guarantee” a down-payment on an apartment or house.
The reason it’s so hard for us to leave our front porches is just that- it’s not ours. It’s not comfortable. And if we step off, we will encounter any number of the probable yet pitiful realities of which I speak. Even strong Christians profess to love their neighbors and commit to their well being through money, sponsorship, letters, gifts, and abundant prayers. The love is really tested, however, when meeting the neighbor face to face. When a sponsor meets a child in their own village, surrounded by poverty or despair, a new sense of urgency can come over the person. But I suspect a gag reflex proceeds it, not out of revulsion, but out of unbelief that the prayers, money, and letters didn’t fix everything. It’s one thing to love from far away, but it’s something totally different in the midst of the brokenness.

I write this on a grand scale as if one needs to go to Africa or Calcutta to feel the distinct difference of knowing and loving someone in hard places. The revelation comes from a small instance of today’s musings and interactions. I believe the juxtaposition of loving despite distance can be felt in work, with friends and family, or in the community. I pray for those grieving, feeling sick, losing their jobs, fighting an inward battle, pursuing bold dreams, and yet I get scared stepping off the porch to greet the actual person living in these realities. I don’t’ know how to console those who grieve. I don’t know the anxiety of cancer. I don’t know how to react to those who want to live one way, but for various circumstances, are unable. How do I encourage people in these situations? How do I fix it?
It’s easy from a far. The senses are a bit numbed and cut off. The excuses for not doing anything more are deemed legitimate. But the porch is not where we’re called and challenged to live and use our gifts. We’re meant to be in the middle of it all, face to face, side by side.

“ A ship in port is safe. But that is not what ships are for.” -Rear Admiral Dr. Grace Murray Hopper