I'm not sure I like what I have noticed in myself, but it's done, and it's done for the better. I noticed in the past few weeks a peaceable disposition and different energy towards the people that I meet. Most of the people I know who feel this way are people in the twilight of their lives. I noticed a change of heart regarding my fellow men. I think I'm beginning to see all men as God sees them, and it makes me sad.
I am sad because I realize just how lost most people really are. Just a few minutes ago, I saw a woman walking through the parking lot scrounging up loose objects, mostly metals, and especially coins. I made sure to drop some pocket change (which is probably no more than $0.40) for her to collect because that's all I have on me right now. Last Thursday for recycling, I noticed the woman out collecting cans for recycling. She looks even more bedraggled than before, so I made sure my aluminum cans were out when I came back from jogging (they were gone before I left for work). I notice just how many people around me are financially destitute, and I see how many of them are burdened with cares that I cannot see or touch or even help. Most of the people around me seem seeped in some sort of misery. I don't really know how God handles that, knowing that most of the seven billion people on this planet are in a dearth, diseased, discouraged, dismayed, disowned, discombobulated, disoriented, and disliked. I know He loves them. I know He doesn't do things because alleviating our suffering isn't always best. If we obtain things easily, we esteem them lightly, and all too often people unjustly ascribe good fortune elsewhere than to Him to whom it rightly belongs. I lift where I can, do what I am able, and act in surprising ways. I wrote a few letters of praise last night for people with whom I have interacted. I bought lunch for the guy behind me in line. I know it's so very little, but I want to do something for them.
I am sad because I feel overwhelmed with the degree to which help is needed and my inability to provide what they truly need. Sure, people have transitory, urgent, needs of mortality like food, shelter, and the like that can be easily alleviated. After that, those are usually just symptoms of a bigger problem, and I'm not a psychologist or counselor or expert on anything. Mostly all I can offer is a listening ear, an empathetic smile, and some encouraging words. I have only one coping mechanism for my own struggles, and I lean on it so much that sometimes in exercising I actually injure myself. It hasn't solved anything or provided any answers; it just distracts my mind. So many other people turn to love and other drugs as a way to cope, only to find the problem waiting for them when they return from their high. I get some joy watching the sun set, looking at the snow-capped mountains, playing with my parents' dogs last night, and in listening to songbirds. Those are brief moments, and then my mind reminds me of feedback loops I cannot close. Most of our torment is inside us, even if we didn't create it, and I think the only way to really help people is to turn them to Christ.
I am sad because most people reject Christ. Last Thursday, there was a guy on campus with a big sign calling people to repent. I walked by him right behind a guy who told him to F-off. Later, he was arrested and removed from campus (probably because he didn't have a permit or something stupid). Most of us try to save ourselves instead of turning to Christ. however, I understand that. I don't know how to let Christ heal me. I pray about it all the time, and I converse and meditate and ponder, and as far as I can tell nothing changes except that I feel like I grow worse. I know that it's just because I'm becoming more aware of my faults as I pass through refining fire, but it's discouraging to feel like you've taken one step forward and three steps backwards. Today, I read a story about how young women are flocking to ISIS and to witchcraft. Our chapels and congregations at church seem more bare than ever before. The Nords are returning to worship of Odin after millenia, and the Jews are being driven out of Europe again. Rather than turn to Christ, people are turning to government, whether to Obama or to Romney, and I find it sad that people trust in man who is fallen to bring about the utopia that heaven alone can raise.
I feel differently towards some of the people I have met lately. I find myself praying for people I do not know and do not like. I find myself praying, not that people will do what I like, but that they'll do what is best for them, even if that means I am not part of their story or hurt by that eventuality. I don't intend for people to hold themselves back to make me happy; I desire their happiness. Recently, a powerful member of government with whom I have had difficult encounters fell on hard times. I wasn't glad; I felt bad for his wife, for his children, and for him, because I don't think he'll find a way to recover this time. He looks sickly in his picture, and I think things have finally caught up with him, and I think he may fall hard. I don't want that. I pray for him, not because I think he's a swell guy, but because I know that God loves him as a son. It's the same reason I endeavor to treat people better than I like. Sure, I have weak moments and do things that are only human, but I realize that each woman I meet is someone's daughter, someone's sister, and maybe someone's mother (some day), and I realize that every man I meet is someone's son, someone's brother, and someone's father some day. I really want to treat them like I would hope people would treat my brother's and sister, my mother and father, and any children God may one day grant me. If I want that, I must afford it to the people I meet and treat them well. Furthermore, I know they are part of the Family of Man, and if I hope my Father God will smile on me, I must also be my brother's keeper.
Last Sunday, we sang "because I have been given much" in our meetings. Even in my own congregation, full of fastidiously festooned families, I can tell some of the people are lonely, burdened, and struggling. I don't think things are as well for any of them as they portray. I already spoke to a few, but I am not really sure what to do. I'm just slightly above pond scum in the social heirarchy wherever I go, and I don't have much to offer. But, my heart bleeds for these people. I don't know them, but I care. I don't have to care, but if I don't, who will? After one fellow shared a similar story of loss and pain to my own, I told him that if only one of us could find happiness in this life, I prayed it would be he. I want other people to be happy, and if there's something I can sacrifice, I am inclined to do precisely that. I remember in "Groundhog Day" when Bill Murray tries desperately each day to save this old homeless man to no avail. No matter what he does, the man dies. I think he goes back and feeds him every day anyway, one last little joy and kindness in an otherwise bleak life. Now I know that in America we all live very blessed lives, but all the trappings of material prosperity do not soothe the pains of the heart and soul. The only things I know that do that are things of another world. Whoso believeth in God might with surety hope for a better world. Whoso believeth in God ought to work to make it that way.
Tonight, I go before my nursing chemistry class. I have never had a class score so poorly on an exam. I don't know if it's their fault or my own. However, I care about them. I don't want them to fail. I don't want them to weep and wail and gnash their teeth in anguish and frustration. I know we need good and more nurses. Hopefully I can convince them that if they truly desire to succeed I truly desire to get them to a place where they will succeed. I don't know why I care. Most of my colleagues take it as a badge of honour to flunk a certain percentage, and the administration knows my all time class average is 81%, higher than they "like". I want the students to learn. I want them to be successful. I want them to be exalted, exultant, and exuberant. They are my sisters, my brothers, my family, and my friends. They are my legacy. If I fail them, I fail at life. That doesn't mean they will all succeed, but what I ought to do I will do. "I dare do all that may become a man. Who dares more is none." --MacBeth
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