Tonight, after a very extensive nap, my mom and I went out to eat. She always likes to hear about the things we are doing at church and she has learned that the best way of getting that info out of me is to take me out to eat – otherwise I’m not talking. We got in the car and headed towards Oneonta, which from what a friend told me is named after Chief Oneonta (pronounced won-un-tuh) and the battle of Pinson Creek. After I told her a little bit about the Famine, she finally asked, “What do you want to eat?” With a slight smile on my face I replied, “Uncle Sam’s BBQ, I think I’d like some chocolate pie.”
After fasting from food for almost 30 hours, I’m in that mindset where I really appreciate every bite of every single meal. This will last maybe a day and then I will go back to taking my food for granted. Still, as I reflect on what we accomplished this weekend (and it’s not over yet), I can’t help but feel good. I can’t help but be proud of all the youth and all the adults who helped out and participated.
Last Wednesday I asked Andy this question: Is it possible to do a 30 hour famine out of love? I mean, in 1 Corinthians 13, Paul talks about speaking in the tongues of angels, moving mountains, healing the sick, and all kinds of other incredible things. But his point is that if we do all these things and we don’t do it out of love, we gain nothing. We are nothing more than a clanging cymbal or a battering gong. So my question was how do we raise money and fast for 30 hours without sounding like a clanging cymbal?
It was said over the weekend that the person who raised the most money, at least unofficially, was Lee. He raised over $300. I think that’s a pretty amazing feat for a big, hairy 14-year-old. In fact, I see something very beautiful in that. There is something really special about a young teenager who realizes he has a higher purpose in life, and believes that to such an extent that he goes out and raises enough money to feed a starving kid for a year. Because of what Lee has done, someone in this world isn’t going to go hungry. And when I sit back and I think about how goofy Lee is, it’s so ironic and amazing to know that Lee may be the difference between life and death for some poor African kid.
I use Lee as an example, but there were so many others who took part in the Famine and made a difference by doing so. I think that by giving or raising money, or even by just showing up and denying food for a while, that everyone made the statement that they care.
I guess that’s what I’m getting at with all this. I mean, none of us know any starving African kids personally. I know that thousands of people die each day because of hunger and I never shed a tear about it. Truthfully, it doesn’t even make me feel sad – I just sort of accept it. But even though I sometimes feel like I don’t care, this weekend I could tell by my own actions and by the actions of those around me that there is love in this. We’re not just starving ourselves and banging on cymbals. It may only be a little. And while it may not be a personal love, it is a love of humanity, existence, and life. It’s about understanding that people’s lives are important, even if we don’t know who they are. And with our 30 Hour Famine we gathered together and said we will part with our money, with our time, and even with our own food for a few hours so that people we don’t even know can eat.
I feel good about this weekend. It makes me happy to know that I can make a difference in at least somebody’s life. And to everybody else that was involved I would tell them they should feel good too. Because it makes a difference. It really does mean something. To some foreign kid or family, it may very well mean everything.
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