The Poor Shall Inherit the Kingdom of Heaven…

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.”

Matthew 5:3 (NIV)

It was my second trip to the country of my heart: China.  I was 21 years old, fervent for God, passionate about China, and ready to soak in 3 months of language learning and cultural experience in Chengdu, Sichuan province, in the heart of the country.  One of the reasons I had chosen this particular study-abroad program was that the school was located in the Tibetan area of town and I was completely fascinated by Tibetans at the time.  I remember walking up and down the street by the West gate of the Chinese university I was attending on my very first day in Chengdu, thinking, “I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”  Maroon-robed Tibetan Buddhist monks walked beside me; beautiful, rosy-cheeked Tibetan women in traditional dresses with long braids down their backs meandered in and out of the various shops along the street; and the smells of Chinese, Hui, and Tibetan food mingled with the sounds of car horns honking, bus brakes squeaking, and Tibetan music blaring.  Feeling like I had stepped right into the pages of a National Geographic magazine, I was absolutely exhilarated…amazed beyond belief that this was actually ME experiencing this place.  I’m certain that the smile on my face was nearly as big as the one in my heart.  Little did I know on that first day in Chengdu that that street would prove to be a very dark and weighty place for my heart…a dark place punctured by the light of a miracle…

You see, “Tibetan Street,” as they call it, was also notorious as the “Street of Beggars.”  I quickly found out that I could hardly walk ten feet without being approached by a beggar.  They took many forms… sometimes just a child, tugging on my sleeve; sometimes an old man, crippled and bent in half on a rolling piece of wood; and sometimes a young mother holding an infant or toddler, following me and asking for money for her “sick child,” her “hungry child,” her “fatherless child.”  Every single one of them broke my heart.  There is more tragedy written into these beggars’ lives than you can deduce outwardly.  Most of them are caught up in crime rings, indebted to thugs who keep them begging under threat of harm.  Some of them have been purposefully and brutally maimed and crippled in order to be more “successful” as beggars.  And some of the women are given babies they don’t know and made to beg with them, lying that the babies are their children who need help.  It was a woman like this that captured my attention and my heart.

Shortly after arriving in Chengdu, I found myself taking almost daily walks down Tibetan/Beggar Street.  My flesh so wanted to stay away.  The heaviness of the oppressive Buddhist atmosphere combined with the tragic beggars was physically and emotionally taxing, almost more than I could bear.  But the Spirit of God within me told me to go, to walk and to pray along those streets and to see the people, particularly the beggars, through His eyes.  I was warned as a “foreigner” to not be too friendly with the beggars because it would make many people (including possibly the police) very suspicious.  But I was compelled by God to talk with these beggars as they approached me, and I was challenged by His Spirit to see them through His eyes.  And so, my daily ritual began.  I would buy bottles of water and give one to any beggar that came my way.  A few of them began to expect me and I started receiving smiles and hellos from some of them.  Most of the beggars on the street recognized me and after a while they stopped asking me for money, but continued to approach me because they knew they would receive a smile, a hug, a bottle of water.  But there was one girl about my age, always carrying a round-faced one year old boy, who continued to ask me for money.  Day after day after day she would follow me for up to a mile asking me for money for herself and for her son.  I came to know her smell, the touch of her rough and calloused hands, and the tone of her voice.  She told me her son’s name was Gary and I gave her the English name “Hannah.”  Half of me loved that she followed me around all the time and half of me loathed it.  She sapped so much energy from me.  My brain had to work overtime to communicate with her (at that point I had only studied about 2 years of Chinese) and I grew weary of telling her I couldn’t give her any money.  I would take her and her son to get a snack, I would give her water, and after a while she would stop asking for money and we would sit on the sidewalk and talk.  The next day we would start all over again: the begging; the refusal; the conversation; the walk.  This routine taxed me and I could feel myself wanting to find excuses to not go see her.  At the same time, my heart was very confused because I knew that reaching out to this woman was what Jesus would do and deep down I loved having this opportunity to spend time with her.  My weariness finally got the better of me, however, and I stopped taking my walk down Tibetan Street for almost a week, convincing myself I needed “downtime.”

After this week had passed I woke up with an overwhelming sense of conviction.  Why hadn’t I gone to visit my friend on Tibetan Street?  Wasn’t I only looking out for my own comfort by not going?  There in the stuffy, humid heat of my Chinese bedroom, I bowed my head, confessed my lack of obedience, and received forgiveness and renewed energy from my sweet Lord.  I headed to class, anticipating going out to Tibetan Street when my studies were finished for the day.

Around 1 or 2 in the afternoon I was free to go.  I walked through the old, decaying campus of my school toward the West gate with a song in my heart and a spring in my step.  I walked through the gate and found myself once again on Tibetan street.  I turned right and started walking, looking for Hannah and Gary.  I don’t remember a lot of what happened before I saw them…I’m sure I saw a few other beggars, smelled some choking Tibetan incense, waved and smiled to a few people…but I do remember what happened when I saw Hannah and Gary.  She was standing across the street and I caught her eye.  I smiled at her and headed over.  She didn’t smile back.  When I got close to her I said hello and she grabbed my arm roughly and asked me, “Where have you been?  You forgot about me.  I knew you were going to forget about me.  You don’t care about me.  And when you go back to America you’ll forget me forever.”  I was heartbroken.  This was not our routine.  Usually she’d ask for money, I would say no, and then we’d take a walk together.  But that day I realized that our times together were about more than money and a walk to her.  They were about a sense of belonging.  In her world she didn’t belong anywhere and there was always the possibility of danger lurking behind every face and every corner.  She had allowed herself to come to trust me…I was possibly the only person with whom she felt she was accepted.  And I had broken her trust.  I couldn’t escape the pain I saw in her eyes.  I took her hands in mine and apologized to her for not coming to see her.  I told her I cared about her and about Gary.  And then, I had to tell her that she was right.  I did have to go back to America soon.  It didn’t mean I would forget her, but it did mean we would be separated with no means of communication.  She was grateful for the apology, but at the news of my impending return to America her head slumped as she whispered, “I know. I know.”  We walked silently down the street for a while until we found a scrawny tree which offered a slight respite from the intense heat of the day.  I sat down next to her and God prompted me in that moment to tell her about His Love.  Miraculously, I found the words to tell her about Jesus.  I told her about His amazing Love, His nearness to His children, His sacrifice, and His salvation.  She didn’t take her eyes off me and I prayed that she could understand my broken Chinese and that the message would resonate in her heart.  When I was finished telling her the Good News I looked into her eyes, tears beginning to form in my own, and I said, “Do You believe that Jesus is real?”  “Yes,” she said without hesitation.  “Do you believe that He Loves you?”  “Yes.”  I told her that I had to leave her soon, but that she could always have Him with her, every moment of every day.  I told her that she could tell Him all of her worries and fears and He would hold her in His arms and listen to her and Love her and care for her.  With undeniable and childlike faith she said, “Yes. I know.  I believe it.”  And then, as if to change the subject she said, “Gabi, I’m hungry.”  “Oh,” I said, trying not to be disappointed by the change of subject.   “Do you want me to get you a snack?”  “Yes.  But what I mean is that I’m hungry, empty right here all the time.”  She pointed at her stomach.  I wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that, didn’t know if I had really understood what she said.  So all I said was, “Ok.  Well do you want to pray to Jesus with me?”  “Yes, yes!”  I saw an unmasked determination in her eyes, so I pushed a little bit farther and said, “Do you believe in Jesus, Hannah?”  “Yes, I do!”  “Do you want Him to live in your heart so He can be with you always?”  “Yes!”  And all of the sudden…I understood what she meant about being hungry.  Her soul was empty and she was hungry to have Jesus fill it.  In that moment I just KNEW this.  The gentle Spirit of God was showing me.  I held her hands in mine, bowed my head, and prayed with this sweet, young, dirty, desperate girl.  I prayed that God would fill her heart, that He would be near to her and help her to believe.  When I said amen, I lifted my eyes to hers and she said something truly amazing to me: ”Gabi, I’m not hungry anymore.”

I am certain that Hannah was born again in that moment.  Her appearance had changed, a fearless smile spreading across her face.  In that moment I truly realized for the first time that God’s Kingdom is upside-down.  We look at the rich, famous, and popular and think they are the ones who have it all.  God looks at the poor, the desperate, the homeless, the dirty, and the broken and sees souls ready and willing to walk into the Kingdom of God.  Why?  I think it’s because they truly have nothing to lose and absolutely everything to gain.  So when they hear that Jesus can save them, when they hear about His greatness and His Love, they believe it with no hesitation and no question.  It is the people that are so overlooked and so abused that I truly believe comprehend the Love, salvation, and power of Christ on a deeper and more profound level than anyone else in the world.  As the Word says, it’s easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God (see Matt. 19:24).  When one has everything he needs it is much much much more difficult for him to recognize the need in his soul for a Savior.  But when one has nothing, his needs, both physical and spiritual, are easy to see and the opportunity to fulfill those needs is met with open hands and hearts.

I have been so privileged to witness this upside-down Kingdom over and over again…through orphans and widows and impoverished women in India, through poor children in earthquake ravaged Sichuan and other parts of China, and in the innocence of young migrant children at inner-city schools.  Kids, the poor, orphans, widows, and the homeless are ripe for the harvest, but in his cunning, Satan has turned our hearts away from these precious ones to focus on ourselves and on the “successful” and “popular” people of this world.  What would happen if our hearts shifted and we allowed ourselves to have the mind and perspective of Christ?  What if we truly saw things in this upside-down way: the unpopular becoming famous in our hearts?  Would we be willing to exit our own comfort zones to reach into the lives of the uncomfortable?  I wonder what kinds of pastors, leaders, and spiritual giants there are sitting hungry and cold on the streets of cities around the world, completely overlooked.  I myself am feeling challenged to go out into my own city in my own country to find and serve the “least of these.”  Through these memories and through the stories and conviction of others I am praying for God to show me who to serve.  And I’m excited.  And I hope you’ll get excited, too.

In all of my international experiences I can look back and truly say that the time I’ve spent with dirty, poor, desperate, and hungry people, especially children, are the times I’ve felt the happiest and most fulfilled.  Those times when I was covered in grime and little kid fingerprints were the times I felt most beautiful.  The times I’ve spent serving those who can give nothing back to me are the times I’ve felt most alive.  But taking that first step is always the hardest…convincing yourself to give of yourself without expecting anything in return is something you cannot do without Christ.  But once you make room for Him and step out in service and faith…that’s when amazing, Kingdom Come things begin to happen.

I’d love to hear your stories.  Tell me how you serve in your city and beyond.  Tell me what your passions are and tell me about the miracles you’ve experienced.  I have so much to learn about cultivating a heart for the poor.

May God inspire, encourage, and motivate us all to pour out our lives at His feet and to be His servants and messengers of Hope to a dying world.  Amen!

“My dear friends, don’t let public opinion influence how you live out our glorious, Christ-originated faith.  If a man enters your church wearing an expensive suit, and a street person wearing rags comes in right after him, and you say to the man in the suit, ‘Sit here, sir; this is the best seat in the house!’ and either ignore the street person or say, ‘Better sit here in the back row,’ haven’t you segregated God’s children and proved that you are judges who can’t be trusted?  Listen, dear friends.  Isn’t it clear by now that God operates quite differently?  He chose the world’s down-and-out as the Kingdom’s first citizens!”

James 2:1-6a (MSG)

*Note: I have recounted these stories to the best of my ability.  In some areas my memory is not so clear, so I have taken the liberty of filling in some of the blanks with bits and pieces of memories and ideas blended together. 🙂