Wearing your cross

Have you noticed that the cross has become to many nothing more than a fashion statement? Look around you, you will see crosses on purses...
Crosses on necklaces

And crosses on shirts...

And while there is nothing wrong with these things, I often wonder if those wearing these crosses do so simply because they like the look or because the cross has a deep meaning in their lives?

I fear the latter.

Today, me and my girls and a friend of ours, spent the majority of the day sitting at a table we had set up at the local basketball game asking people for a $5.00 donation to send a beaning baby (along with a hug) to an orphan in Africa.

Watching Aleigha and Mya boldly approach people as they entered the gym made my heart swell with pride because it wasn't but a few short years ago that they themselves were orphans, waiting for a family of their own. Even today Mya will share how she remembers how "nice white ladies from American would come to the orphanage and play with the children and tell them about Jesus". She remembers that one lady brought her a pair of pink princess dress up shoes and how she had never seen anything so beautiful in her life. Those shoes and those ladies telling her about Jesus brought her joy at a time where she was hurting- and gave her hope like no others. Knowing this made what we were doing even more important.

As we sat watching the people approaching the door we began to play a game to waste time. We would look at the person and try to guess if they would say yes or no. As one woman came closer I noticed Mya perk up and then I heard her say "oh mama, I KNOW this lady will say yes- she knows Jesus- just look at her shirt! Do you see the cross on her shirt mama? She knows Jesus-she will help!"

As the woman opened the door the sweet smell of her perfume entered with her. Mya picked herself up as tall as she could, and with a smile the size of Texas on her face she walked up to the lady and in her innocent 7 year old voice asked if the lady would like to donate $5.00 to send a beanie baby to an orphan in Africa.

The woman in the t-shirt with the cross stopped, looked down at Mya, rolled her eyes, and then mumble no- and something about how she didn't have any money with her anyway.

Mya quickly stepped back, clearly disappointed by the woman's rude response.

I held out my arms to her and we gently reminded her once again that even though some people couldn't give and it felt like we weren't getting very far, God saw our hearts and that was all that really mattered...

And while I know this to be true, even at my age, when we witnessed that same lady with the cross on her t-shirt, the same one who rolled her eyes at my daughter and told her she had no money- later walked up to the concession stand and purchased her goodies... I couldn't help but feel physically sick.

I couldn't help but feel like I had been punched in the stomach.

And I couldn't help but to hurt knowing that once again the 'least of these' came last.

As the hours passed people came and went. Some gave, most did not.

Many ignored us completely, and many said "Not today".

Which made me begin to question when then?

When would they care? When would they quit ignoring and overlooking the least of these?

If not today- then when?

And what would it take to make them care?

And then I began to wonder how many times had I done the same thing in the past?

How many times had I said not today God- I am busy. I have other things to do, other things I am busy with.

No Lord.

Not today.

How many times had I worn my cross- yet not truly carried it?

How many times had I viewed the cross simply as a decoration and not as a way of life?

Lord, forgive me.