| Please Take My Umbrella, September 28, 2011 |
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I had just finished teaching my first class and I was standing outside the doorway but under the protection of the overhang to the entrance to Maybe Hall. I was looking wistfully at the rain and debating whether or not a dash to the student center for a coke was worth it when a young man addressed me from the crosswalk about thirty feet away. I didn't understand him so I just smiled and waved. He changed directions and came toward me, his dark face peering out from under a rather tattered, much used, worse-for-the-wear umbrella. I couldn't help but notice his worn sneakers and ill-fitting trousers. He addressed me again, and although his English was broken, I understood that he wished to loan me his umbrella. I didn't know him personally, but I knew that he must be one of several Nigerian students who were on our campus. Since I didn't need to go anywhere, I indicated that I could get along all right without it. It was obvious that he was actually hurt by my refusal, I mean - he really wanted me to use his umbrella.
Seeing the look on his face, and knowing how difficult it would be to try to explain, I asked how I could return it to him. "In this room, let it be," he replied, "after my class, I will come for it." He placed it in my hand with a look of genuine pleasure and without another word he bounced out into the rain and ran lightly across the grass. "Thank you very much," I shouted after him. He stopped and turned to wave, and his smile showed the pleasure and goodwill which he obviously felt. He acted as though I had just made his day. Although this happened many years ago, it left a lasting impression on me. It is remarkable that out of the hundreds of students passing by, most with umbrellas, this young man from Nigeria was the only one who saw me - he was the only one who spoke - he was the only one who offered to help. The rest had their heads down, looking for puddles. Their minds were filled with thoughts about themselves, their classes, their tests, their ride home this weekend, keeping their shoes and clothes dry, their grades, their love interests, their popularity, their schedule. They were so full of themselves that there was no room in their consciousness for anyone else. This young man saw me because he was looking for me, not me specifically you understand, but for someone like me - someone that he could help. This young man left his room that morning thinking, "This will be a good day to help somebody." The rest of us left our rooms thinking only - about ourselves. Do you ever leave your house with thoughts like that? Are your attempts at generosity the result of planning, of thinking ahead about the needs of others? Are you, like me, occasionally so confronted with someone else's need that you are shaken from the world of yourself long enough to respond. Even when that happens, are you often half-hearted in offering your help? When you offer financial assistance, to coach a little league team, a ride to the store, picking up someone's child from the dentist, to clean up after a dinner, mow someone else's grass, do you offer in such a way that your insincerity is apparent? John writes in 1 John 3:18 - "Little children, let us not love with word or with tongue, but in deed and truth." When we offer to render assistance, is it obvious that we simply are trying to be mannerly - to show the outward form which is expected of us? "If I can help in some way, let me know." "Come and see us sometime." "Could I pay for this?" These statements are not necessarily hypocritical, but they are often insincere ways of simply being polite. Those of us who are mature need badly to take the lead in demonstrating what it means to love "in deed and truth." One other thing: Sometimes I do the right thing naturally. It's not often I'm afraid, but in this case, I praise God that I had the humility to allow this young man to help me. Don't let your ego stand in the way of someone else's pleasure. |