Give Me Your Glue

I think it really began four years ago in Kenya when I realized I was wrong for trying to trade a street kid bread for his glue. I thought I was doing the right thing by taking it away, after all, what does an uneducated street kid know? However, as he walked away with bread in his hand and his glue in mine, I realized my own ignorance. The bread would be gone in less than 5 minutes, and it wouldn't be enough to satisfy him. He would have more glue in probably less than 30 minutes. So really, what was the point of taking it away?

The point, I think, was to make myself feel okay about giving him bread. Heaven forbid he ever expect handouts from someone, especially a white tourist. Heaven forbid I ever give him food just because he's hungry. I knew pretty quickly that I was wrong. Jesus' love for me never came with conditions, so why should I set conditions on this homeless child?

There's something about coming face to face with the "beast inside myself", as Donald Miller so aptly describes, that makes me beyond ashamed of myself. For the first time in my life I was exposed to white priveledge, which was uncomfortable enough, but also the reality that I really did believe I knew better. Seriously? What the hell do I know about survival? I've never lived on the streets a day in my life, so how could I pretend to know better? In the end, I kept the bottle of glue to remind me of the look in the boy's eyes as he hid the glue in his shirt and told me it was "his health". His health, meaning it satisfies him. It keeps him warm at night. It curbs the hunger pains. It keeps reality at bay so he doesn't feel the pang of survival.

My perspective changed each time I came into contact with the street boys in Kapsabet. One boy Collins especially had a hand in the change. I was collecting bottle caps for a school project, and I told him if he helped me collect some I would buy him something to eat. He quickly picked up a few bottle caps off the ground, so I took him to our favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurant. He ordered some chapati and orange Fanta. As I paid for the food, my team member asked if we should ask for his glue. I told her she could try if she wanted. She knelt down in front of him and asked for his glue, her hand held out. He shook his head and hid the glue in his shirt. "Give me your glue. No glue, no bread." Again he shook his head. People were beginning to watch. Again, "no glue, no bread!" Collins looked at me with panic in his eyes, and I knew he was ready to bolt. And the words just came out.. "It's okay. Don't worry about it. Keep your glue," I said, knowing full well I had just embarrassed my teammate upfront of everyone. His face relaxed and he continued eating. People continued to stare. My teammate stormed out. I felt bad for making her look bad, but I knew at that moment in time, Collins needed to experience unconditional love more than she needed to save face.
"Come to Me all who are weary, and I will give you rest." Or in this case, bread and orange Fanta. I felt like God had just shown me what he does for me every day. He never says "Gloria, come to me and I'll give you rest... but only if you leave your pride at the door. Only if you leave your judgement at the door... Only if you give me your glue."