Life on silent

To Canada: Thank you for Avril Lavigne. Thank you for Pamela Anderson. Keanu Reeves, however, you can keep.

To the group: After hours perusing Facebook and People magazine, I have been unable to find a suitable picture of myself save this map of Alabama. Viewing my home state, however, you may notice it does slightly resemble my right-side facial profile. See the nose? Me neither.

1920 serves to mark a significantly insignificant fact in my story. It was the first time in America that more people lived inside cities than outside them. The western frontier, and all of its swinging saloon doors and gold rush towns (like early Vancouver), was officially extinct. In a literal handful of generations, the United States and most of North America transformed from 90% living on farms to less than 4%. The countryside is now just a place for vacations without roller coasters; a drive across the country comes only when airplanes are booked; a handwritten letter comes only when the computer is down; a crisp breeze on your face comes only when the air conditioning is off.

Knowledge, and how it manifests itself in modern technologies, is obviously a blessing. But the one aspect of life prior to 1920 that I desire the most is this: we will never see the stars as our ancestors did. Those twinkling suns, no matter what mountain you’re on, won’t be as bright as the time before city taillights and pollution. I simply can’t relate to a world before electricity (or Michael Jackson), or to a time where “buttons” were just things sewn to your clothes.

Similarly, I will never know what it is like to be poor. And I mean real poverty. Poverty that leaves half of the world’s population living on less than $2 a day. Poverty that kills 11 million children a year and 30,000 a day. Poverty that sends 800 million people to bed hungry every night—and I don’t mean fending off late-night Sonic cravings like I do.

So what? So Christ compels us to help the poor, and even more difficult, approach him as “poor” for, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Mt. 5:3). Though I don’t know what it’s like to sleep on the streets or search trashcans for my next meal, I’m called to have an impoverished mindset as I approach God—having to completely rely on him for everything.

If you are reading this blog, then you are probably in the top quarter of the materially blessed in the world. And it is us who must share with the less fortunate, as well as learn their perspective by giving them time (more valuable than money), ridding our lives of instantly gratifying materials, and praying to God. Praying that he allows us to see beyond dollar signs, to get down “in dust and ashes” as Job did (Job 42:8), and to see the stars the way Christ saw them 2,000 years ago—without neon lights or cell phone signals.