A good friend of mine is the top dog in an outfit that does incredibly good things for the poor wo try to survive in the dusty folds just across our borders. He lives very modestly and drives a used four-wheel drive SUV as is apt for a mission ministry that survives off of the generosity and sacrifice of others.

A life long bachelor, he has given his years to God’s service and the needs of the poor, and as such, has deeply inspired many. So much so that one day a wealthy supporter pulled him aside and handed him the keys to fancy sports car.

“This is for you” he said, “If anyone deserves it, you do”.

For several months my friend drove this gift around, marveling at its speed, handling and luxury.

But the whole time there was a queasy feeling in his gut.

Like when a drunk neighbor showed-up on our doorstep last night, belligerent for money.  Shouldn’t we protect ourselves from such instability? 

Or observing a prostitute walk into another neighbor’s house across the street.  Shouldn’t I guard my eyes from such injustice?

Or watching neighbors abuse the welfare system, let alone their own children.  Shouldn’t we avoid this—putting our young marriage in a safe, happy setting, surrounded by a white picket fence, with 2.5 safe, happy children and a golden retriever? 

Or when I’m tutoring kids who are twelve and can’t read, or sixteen and pregnant.