First World Problems

For Christmas, one of my sisters got me a pack of "First World Problems" pencils. They decry the "hardships" of our day to day life in the west, particularly in America. Each one is printed with the petty things we tend to whine about when in reality life is relatively luxurious compared to the daily existence of most of humanity. 

I remember starting to become aware of my own privilege on a mission trip to Honduras (2002), when I was a youth minister. Most of our time was spent on the edge of town sleeping on a church floor, and then building homes for a new affordable housing development. The memories that come up immediately are of the joy of the locals with whom we worked shoulder to shoulder, and after lunch played soccer. They threw a party for us at the end of the week, and instruments came out as everyone sang and some danced. 

I also saw the reality of their relative poverty, and heard from the clergy of the challenges they faced. Lack of medical care, struggling to recover from mudslides crippling a town, and carrying homes away during the last hurricane. I went to the grocery store one morning and was shocked to realize how glamorous our grocery stores are. When I went shopping for the first time after that trip, I remember standing in the cereal aisle frozen and overwhelmed by so many choices. 

The reality is most of the world struggles much more than I do, and much more than many of us do. Going on a mission trip (in my tradition, this means mostly medical or construction work, as well as worshipping with and supporting local established churches) is a life changing experience. Yes, we did some good there for the people we served, but the big difference was the transformation that took place in my heart and in the hearts of those youth who went with us. I am grateful for my life, the many things I enjoy, but I am more and more aware of my privilege. 

Going to Honduras also made me more aware of economic hardship closer to home. Aware of the day to day financial struggles of my neighbors. I am amazed at the work one of those former youth group members has taken up since Hurricane Harvey: working to rebuild a poverty-stricken neighborhood in Houston. 

When I traveled to South Africa during seminary (2005), I went with more intention to pay attention to their context, and reflect on my own context. In the townships (still an economically enforced reality even after the fall of apartheid) our small group visited churches, hospitals, orphanages, and yes, we played soccer again. Each morning started with morning prayer at the seminary where we stayed for a month. The singing was so amazing, and the joy was infectious. They let me play drums when my marimba skills proved lacking. 

In Honduras and South Africa, the joy stood out to me. It makes me question the pervasive wealth-oriented quest for happiness, and why so many people around us suffer from depression and a lack of meaning. On those trips, people in relative poverty have taught me that joy comes from within, and from relationships. 

I am grateful that we have the temporal pleasures we enjoy; I am also grateful for awareness and joy I've received from relationships with people in other parts of the world. Those relationships are one of the reasons I love being part of a global church family.

I hope to go on another mission trip in the next couple of years. I could probably use a refresher on that experiential knowledge, and as we assist families camping on our border, I am learning more about the great hardships driving people from their homes in Central America. In the meantime, I have my friends and of course sisters to remind me of my privileged existence. The darkest pencil in the pack reads, in stark white letters, "My Netflix isn't loading fast enough." It was just too familiar. I have lamented impatiently when a movie streaming app wasn't meeting my expectations. Perspective is a precious thing. I will keep that pencil handy and probably play more soccer.