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DON’T REACH OUT TO THE POOR, THE POOR WILL REACH OUT TO YOU

In Stanford lives a man who’s lips are mostly dry and his eyes bloodshot. He hangs out with the cheerful crowd around the local Spar, men and women, who diligently come to work everyday before the shop opens to get some coins or food from people like me. They chatter on the broad steps of the library and lean against lampposts when they had their quart of wine.

We all know each other, greeting with nods and doing silent agreements that we would meet just now and exchange some goods. It is a friendly business but the other day one of them broke all the rules. “Doctor! Doctor!” He yelled and ran across the street. It is him I got my title from which as a good African pleases me a lot. And not only does he know my soft spot, the man can also sense when my teenage kids need fresh provision, which is twice a day. “Doctor! Please! Can you buy me some food?” I nodded as usual but he did not wait. He placed a milk and a tin of sardines in my basket and hell broke loose. Another beggar who was impatiently pushing shopping carts into each other, complained in Afrikaans about that breach of protocol. The girls at the bakery turned away ashamed, because he demanded from me not to buy this man food.

The Doctor and I go way back. I started to call him Doctor as well, especially when he changes to Master! Master! It is only a year ago that his 5 year old daughter died of heart failure. Her life expectancy had been even shorter so he thanked Jesus for every day with her. The doctor himself is not well either, coughing and often showing his bag of medication he collects from the clinic. For him free cough syrup is nutrition, and there are days I realize he has not eaten for quite a while. But that day I was a bit cross about the hassle. When I met him outside he surprised me with a hug and said: I just prayed and God told me to give you this. He handed me a bag of small onions that were along with half a loaf of bread his food for the day. He insisted and hugged me again that I feared for his life. Thank you Brother! he said, you are my Master and I am your Master. And we will go hand in hand to Heaven. When I turned around he bowed deep down and when I drove past him he stood in the middle of the road and bowed again. The Stanford people turned around and were amazed, but I was not embarrassed at least, I felt joy. Listen my beloved brothers, Jesus says in James 2:5, has not God chosen those who are poor in the world to be rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom, which he has promised to those who love him?

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Dr Sven & Madame Elke and their adventures in faith

Sven Lager and his wife Elke live with their children in Stanford at the river where they write their novels and travel stories. Five years ago the Lord led them safely from the pagan backlands of Germany to Hermanus where they fell in love with the beautiful crowd of Live The Life church. Luckily they stayed for better reasons. Every week they will share as Dr. Sven and Madam Elke an adventure in faith. You are welcome to comment or write to them. (sven.lager@gmail.com)

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