Assimilate or Go Home by D. L. Mayfield

Author:D. L. Mayfield
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2016-08-16T00:00:00+00:00

The Woes

In the beginning, I thought only about the blessings that Jesus talked about in his kingdom. I only thought about surrounding myself with those who could see the good things of God: the poor, the sick, the sad, the oppressed. I was doing my work with these people. I was living with them, eating with them, taking them to appointments, and teaching them English. I did not think about the other side. I did not think about the other things that Jesus said: woe to you who are rich, woe to you who are well fed, woe to you who laugh now, woe to you when all people speak well of you. Woe to you, because in the end you shall lose it all.

✜ ✜ ✜

One time, at my church, I went to the front and stood up by the altar. On the screen behind me I put up a picture of a boy. He was lying on a woven mat, his every bone and rib visible. His skin was dark, his hair short and patchy. He was near death, his eyes focused beyond the picture, beyond the pale of this world. The picture was from Somalia, a week old at most. Entire regions in East Africa were experiencing droughts that would not be relieved for years, experts were saying. I put the picture up, large and excruciating on that white screen. I stared out at the congregation, chin held high as I heard the gasps and starts. I talked about the famine, and I urged people to pray. Pray for water, pray for the people, pray for the boy in the picture. Look hard, I told them, look long and hard at this boy. Every second we long to look away, but I am begging you not to just this once.

I put up that picture, and I watched the audience shift and squirm. If I could have, I would have made the picture as big as the entire podium, inescapable for us all. I watched as people became uncomfortable, until a few eyes shone wet with tears. And a small, hard knot in me was pleased; I wasn’t the only one terrified of the reality of a world where this little boy was dying while we sat full and fed in the house of God.

I don’t know what day of the week I was born on, but I am willing to bet it was on a Wednesday. I am a child of woe, and always have been. Whenever I have become aware of injustice in the world, I have always wanted others to experience it with me.

✜ ✜ ✜

Another time, at my sister’s birthday, there were a few of us gathered in a relaxed circle, drinks and appetizers balanced precariously in hands. My older sister is gorgeous, talented, and driven—I have always been simultaneously awed by and terrified of her. She knows how to throw a party, that one, and her own birthday was no exception. Everything was perfect.

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