Tim Høiland

writer, development practitioner, fan of monster ballads

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What to do with hungry, thirsty strangers

February 3rd, 2010 · City Life, Faith & Spirituality, Politics & Social Issues

You know you’ve been there. We all have. You’re walking down the street, minding your own business, and then it happens.

“Excuse me sir, can you spare some change?”

Just like that.

Then what?

If you’re like me, a lot is going through your mind: thoughts of supporting destructive habits, or making them lazy, or dehumanizing them, or maybe rationalizations: “I’m not rich” or “Okay, fine, I am rich but I’ve worked hard for what I have.” These all seem to coalesce in that moment of truth, along with some incredibly inconvenient verses from the Bible about sheep and goats and the real sin of Sodom and real worship and real religion, and how our so-called faith is worthless if we disregard real needs by spiritualizing them. It’s information overload. And if the Bible is true, the stakes are high.

This sort of thing has happened to me a lot lately. Last night I was on my way into the grocery store a few blocks away from my apartment and it was snowing. A man came up to me in the parking lot, showed me 90 cents in change, explained that his car broke down and that he needed money for a cab. I gave it to him. His name was Robert.

This evening, while walking home from work a man stepped out of the shadows and asked me for change. I apologized and said I didn’t have any. I did. It was a lie. I didn’t ask his name.

Why did I give ten bucks to Robert but left the nameless man on the sidewalk without as much as a dime? Why did I once buy a pair of train tickets for people I had just met but countless times have done my best to ignore or quickly refuse other, far simpler, requests? Why, while I’m at it, did I not tell Robert to hop into my car? Why didn’t I take the nameless guy to Subway or McDonald’s and ask him about his day? Why do I get so uncomfortable when people are so candid about their needs? Could it be that I’ve been conditioned to mask my own?

Now, I’ve read the books. I’ve studied Scripture. I’ve prayed about it, thought about it, discussed it here and there. I’ve taken classes in economics, community development, even theology of poverty, for crying out loud. I’ve absorbed a lot of information but still, every time someone asks me for money, it’s an instant, scrambled decision.

When I do give, I try to exchange names and a handshake – you know, to level the playing field, to keep the dignity. At times I’ve asked them to “pay it forward” when they can. Sometimes I bring Jesus into it – which seems like the right thing to do since he has everything to do with it – but doing so can also feel a bit forced and condescending, as if there are strings attached to grace.

When I don’t give, I try to avoid eye contact. If that fails, I pat my pocket, shrug, and act disappointed. I might pick up the pace, look busy, or think about how I can make up for it by reading my Bible, or by reminding myself that I have a degree in international development and will help plenty of other people soon enough.

While living in Cambodia I got to know a remarkable Dutch woman who embodies compassion, working for a Christian development organization and adopting several Cambodian kids over the years. Once I asked her what she does when a stranger on the street asks for change, which happens, incidentally, all the time. She said that each time, she just listens to the Holy Spirit and takes the next step, whatever it is. I believe her and slightly envy her, because to me, other voices tend to compete loudly in such moments, and the Holy Spirit line just seems like something I’d say as a good Christian cop-out.

Later, a friend in Lancaster told me he decided to contribute regularly to the rescue mission  downtown, and when asked for money he’d point people there. The idea was that this would eliminate the problem of not knowing where the money will go, while also not failing to meet real needs. It was a better approach than any I’d come up with, and a clear demonstration of my friend’s concern for those in need, but I worried that I’d just use the idea as a way of outsourcing compassion to professionals.

So, I pose the question: do you have a consistent approach in these situations, when you’re put on the spot with a request for some change? If so, how did you get there? What experiences led you there? In all of the Bible’s teaching about money and greed and compassion, have you found a consistent pattern as it relates to this? How do you balance competing arguments for and against looking a stranger in the eye, reaching into your pocket, smiling, and giving them whatever you have?

And perhaps trickiest of all: how do you keep it rooted in love?

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Where I’ll be in 19 days

January 28th, 2010 · Travel

Since you’re reading this, I suppose there’s a good chance you know me. And if you know me, you’d probably be able to point to some pretty specific things I’m passionate about. So it may come to you as a surprise that at a certain moment this past fall I realized I was way too scattered to be of any use.

I was wrapping up grad school, on the job hunt, and being very introspective about who I am and what I want out of life and what God might want out of my life and how all of that might possibly fit together (people like us keep Moleskine in business, I’m convinced). This period of soul searching and re-evaluation came at the end of what was perhaps the most eventful year of my life – some parts good, some parts bad – and at age 27 I realized that while I didn’t have any money and there were certainly no jobs, the possibilities were in a strange sense limitless.

And this is where the scattered thing comes in. Because while in a certain sense ‘social justice’ serves as an umbrella for everything I’m passionate about, it definitely leaves a lot of specifics unaddressed. But I took a look at my life and realized that while I am fascinated with Maasai rituals and would love to sit around in hookah lounges in Istanbul or eat copious amounts of naan and curry in Kolkatta while watching cricket, I already have a natural connection to Latin America and perhaps I shouldn’t overlook the significance of that.

So now I write in the closing days of my internship here in DC, having just booked a flight to Costa Rica. I’ll be joining some friends in San Rafael de Vara Blanca, a small town near the epicenter of an earthquake that hit almost exactly a year before the one in Haiti. Tomás and his family moved back to San Rafael last fall and have started a nonprofit called the Association for Development through Education (ADE).

During my two months there we’ll be trying to figure out whether this might be a good long-term possibility for me, but in the meantime I’ll be pitching in however I can as ADE gets off the ground and begins welcoming students. I plan to travel a bit and do some writing for publication, Lord willing, and I hope to brush up on my Spanish enough to be considered just about bilingual.

To those ends, I have revamped this blog so as to better document my adventures. If you’re the praying type, I’d appreciate prayers for wisdom as I try to figure out whether Costa Rica is the place where God would have me serve as his instrument of shalom for the next year or two or three.

I’ve come to the conclusion through all of this that times of introspection have their place, but at a certain point they become, frankly, quite a drag. I want to be able to stop spending so much time analyzing my life and to begin actually living it again, and I’m hoping that one way or another, these two months will be an important step in that direction.

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Interweb 2.0

January 21st, 2010 · Speculation

Welcome to my new and mind-blowingly improved home in cyberspace. Let’s face it, the old one had fallen on hard times, just like the housing market and the rap career of Vanilla Ice. But no longer. Thanks to my brother, Joshua, for his expert assistance in all things pertaining to transitions and tweaks.

In the days to come I plan to reveal to you, the interweb user, my underlying motivation behind this newfound zeal for the blogosphere. In the meantime, welcome to the future.

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