If you’ve read my Substack before, you know I just got back from a mission trip to Bogotá, Colombia. What you may not know is that about a week later, my family and I went to Disney World. We even stayed at a Disney resort for a few days. I’m not trying to brag or anything here, we were simply the grateful recipients of someone else’s generosity.
One night, lying in bed after an exhausting, but genuinely magical, day in the parks, I couldn’t stop thinking about the contrast. A week earlier, I had been ministering to children who didn’t have running water. Today, I had watched a lion at Animal Kingdom. A week earlier, I had sat in a hospital with children facing hardships I can barely comprehend. Today, I was drinking blue milk in Galaxy’s Edge. (For the record, it’s delicious.)
The emotional whiplash was real.
I’m not trying to draw a line between “good” and “bad” experiences. I’m not saying one is an inherently “good” thing and one is an inherently “bad” thing. One could engage in any of these activities in ways that honor or dishonor God. But my privilege was on full display.
I’ve experienced this tension before. Years ago, my wife and I visited one of the children we sponsored overseas. We stayed at an all-inclusive resort, then rode a bus three hours into the mountains to spend time with the child and her family before returning to the resort that evening. The contrast was just as jarring then as it is now.
Part of me doesn’t know what to do with that tension. It’s not that I wished I hadn’t experienced the joy of the past week. I laughed with my family, was truly grateful, and made memories that I’ll treasure forever. But man, the questions are still buzzing.
Is this simply what it means to live in one of the wealthiest countries on earth? Do I have too much? Is it wrong to enjoy extraordinary blessings when I know others lack basic necessities? Is the right response gratitude? Generosity? Simplicity? Guilt? Some combination of everything? And why do I receive gifts like these while the children I met face burdens they never chose? These aren’t rhetorical questions, they’re the ones echoing around my heart right now.
I don’t have answers yet. Or maybe I do, I’m just not sure I like where the answers might lead.
So I’m putting the questions out here because they’re real. I’m curious whether you’ve wrestled with this kind of tension too. How have you learned to hold gratitude for God’s blessings while also keeping your heart open to the needs of those who have so much less?
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