We Don't Know Beans

Back in January I got an email from my mom. It was one that had been forwarded to her by someone who forwarded it to them – you know, the ones that have 15 “FW:’s” to wade through before you get to see any meaningful content. After an hour or so of scrolling down the page, I came to a presentation showing what different families from around the world ate in a week. Photo after photo depicted happy, smiling families around dinner tables filled with an abundant supply of food. These families all hailed from developed countries.

The last photo showed a woman with her two children in front of a meager hut, crouching down in the dirt with a bag of beans, a bag of rice, a jug of water, and some spices. Her weekly food expenses were around $5 US. She was from some village in Africa.

As Lent approached, I decided I wanted to do something to help me better identify with the world’s poor. I remembered the email, and decided to try surviving on the diet of millions upon millions who live in abject poverty: beans. One can of beans a day. Approximately 350 calories. That’s it.

I learned a lot in my little experiment. I was not surprised to go to bed really hungry and wake up with the same angry tummy. I correctly guessed that I would have less energy than usual. I knew I would probably lose weight, too. And that’s the part that shocked me most.

During the 45 days between Ash Wednesday and Easter Sunday, I lost 30 pounds.

I had 30 pounds to lose. What if I started my experiment where I am today, with very little “reserves” (fat) to burn? How would my daily experience be affected if my body started feeding on muscle? How much energy to work for a living would I have? How would this affect my mental capacity after awhile?

I’ll be the first to admit that this experiment was literally just a taste of poverty. After all, I had the luxury of making this choice in the first place, of taking a packet of multi-vitamins every day, or drinking as much clean water as I wanted, of resting without fear, of earning a living with my mind and mouth more than my back. I really don’t know beans about the life experience of the poorest of the poor, even after 40+ cans…

But even though it was just a taste, I will never forget it. And I will think differently about the world’s poorest because of it.

I wonder about our level of ignorance about important things in life and in our world. I wonder how many things we don’t know beans about.

As I approached Easter, that world-changing dawn, I wondered if it was still changes our world in Napa with as much power as it did then.

I wonder what we’re missing because we’re married to the comfort of routine.

I wonder what might happen if we consistently grow in our relationship with God in Christ. What radical changes will be called for that will significantly reshape our worldview?

I pray we will recognize how little we all have experienced of the power of the resurrection. I pray we will arise out of our slumber and make changes that will teach us more about Jesus and God and life than we will ever know through mere ritualistic repetition.

May you wake up. May you shake up your ritual. May you make bold leaps in your faith as resurrection happens in your body, mind, and soul.