Thread...

There is this common thread that has run through humanity from ancient times. A thread that has changed colors and styles... a thread nonetheless.

A thread that binds us with people from around the world and throughout history.

In the bottom crevice of our soul somewhere it stirs this uneasiness.

Stirs this feeling of discontentment with the way the world is.

A discontentment with society and its structures.

A thread that pulled a Samaritan guy to a screeching halt on a dusty road because he noticed something that the rest of the world didn't. While they were increasing their speed, he decreased his. And today we say he was "Good".

A thread that pulled a little lady known as Theresa out of eastern Europe and into Calcutta, India to become instead of observe. To give until it hurt... and then continue to give. To touch without rubber gloves and hand sanitizer. To live and die there. And today we call her "Saint".

I don't believe that this is in just some of us. I believe that we all want something more.

I believe in a broken society this thread has become a bit distorted.

In our Hollywood, microwave society, where everything is G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S... we appease this yearning in easier ways.

The richest among us have climbed until they can't climb any higher. At the summit they find an air that is hard to breathe. Life on the summit of our society turns out to be lonely, cold and harsh. Contentment has yet to be grasped.

Aha! The thread.

Celebrities, adorned in designer clothes that are made to look impoverished, decide to take visits to the base of the mountain... and through the tented windows of limousines they pass by.

Done... money has been given... temporary contentment has been obtained... it's back to the summit for rest and relaxation.

We in the middle, who are neither poor nor rich by our own standards, find not the time nor the energy to do anything. But, the thread is still there. Still pulling.

For the vast majority of us, that thread simply pulls us to our couches at 4:00pm every weekday to watch the rich do there thing. For a solid hour, we have the chance to watch close up, all the people we secretly want to be just like changing the world, one great cause at a time.

When the credits roll at 4:59pm, we put the kleenex back under the coffee table, sigh, and then begin cooking dinner for the night. For millions of viewers, the 4:00 hour was their time to change the world. For 24 hours, their threaded conscious has been appeased.

Welcome to America.

As poverty increasingly becomes the fad in the West, it doesn't mean that the poor are suffering less. It just means that the Jericho road is getting more and more traffic. People are still sitting congested along the sides of the road... the only difference is that the road is now paved, equipped with 4 lanes, nice wide shoulders and several rest stops.

In our discontentment up on the summit, we search for something more at the base... trying to find some part of us that was lost on the climb up.

In what we think is assisting the poor is actually nothing more than assisting ourselves.

With each picture we take of a snotty nosed child dressed in rags that we can frame and hang on the walls of the summit, we feel just a little bit better. We can enjoy the best of both worlds now... while sitting in our message chair next to the fire place at night, we just look at the photo... for a brief moment we are back at the base where true life is.

Meanwhile, the other rope that ties humanity together from ages old remains in tact right next to the thread. The rope that, despite our human efforts to shrink it or fray it loose, remains just as capable of keeping the poor ignored and stuck on the bottom and the rich happy and comfortable at the top.

The base of the mountain is not the place to come and find yourself only to return to the top with photos and video footage to pull out when the rat race feels like too much.

Make no mistake... there is much to be found at ground level. But, as the Samaritan and the Saint set in example, until you stop or even relocate, you will find nothing expect empty photos of snotty nosed children on your walls.

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Derek Webb wrote a song that is really poignant about this issue...

Rich Young Ruler

poverty is so hard to see
when its only on your tv and twenty miles across town
where we're all living so good
that we moved out of Jesus neighborhood
where he's hungry and not feeling so good
from going through our trash
he says, more than just your cash and coin
I want your time, I want your voice
I want the things you just can't give me

so what must we do
here in the west we want to follow you
we speak the language and we keep all the rules
even a few we made up
come on and follow me
but sell your house, sell your SUV
sell your stocks, sell your security
and give it to the poor
what is this, hey what's the deal
I don't sleep around and I don't steal
I want the things you just can't give me

because what you do to the least of these
my brothers, you have done it to me
because I want the things you just can't give me