Yesterday we took a boat to the British Virgin Islands. I did not know much about the BVIs and was fully expecting nothing but beauty. Once we reached the first island, we boarded an open-air taxi and headed for The Baths National Park. We had to go through a small village to get there. I was immediately shocked and impacted by the sights of poverty we were driving through. There were signs and smells of depravity everywhere I turned. Residents sat outside to catch fleeting bursts of refreshing air because there was no air conditioning. I felt like I was intruding into their small world as a privileged, undeserving sightseer as we drove by each “house.”
In those moments I felt an incongruence in my soul of extravagant gratitude for what I “have” and extreme grief for what they seemingly do not. I wanted to hide from the sadness that was invading my heart, but I could not numb myself to it. I wondered who these people were, and if they knew they were poor, or if this was just the way of life to them? Were they happy or were they sad people who felt trapped in a world of destitution? Mostly, I wondered, if they know Jesus?
I found myself wanting to close my eyes and not look because not seeing would have been easier, but I could not turn away because what is not seen cannot be known, and what is not known cannot be seen.
I went on our tour with a heavy torque gripping my heart. We navigated through beautiful rock formations, caves and swam in beaches so pure and beautiful that it took my breath away. Despite it all, I could not shake my heartache.
On the taxi ride back to the boat, we again passed through the small, indigent village that is now branded into my existence. I was questioning The Lord, how can this be that there is so much poverty woven in the midst of all this untainted beauty? How can these two things co-mingle? Immediately a sobering reminder graced my struggling spirit.
D’Anna, this is a picture of you. You can dress up in your best smile, clothing, and accessories, surround yourself with desirable things, but underneath it all, and right in the midst is an impoverished heart that cannot be dressed up. It is destitute, broken and in desperate need of a Savior every day.
Broken people, broken places, broken worlds; they may all present differently, but a common brokenness is indigenous to us all. My awareness of the destitution of my own heart is my greatest asset. It is when I realize just how poor I am, that I become rich. When I or my world becomes sufficient in my estimation, I am in trouble.
In this life wealth is most often judged by superficial appearances or numbers indicating monetary things that can disappear in the blink of an eye. Regarding eternity, however, being rich is knowing that we are helpless to the presence of our splintered souls yet that is the avenue by which we find abundance from the sacrifices of a Savior, who longs to be in a relationship with our bankrupt souls.
On the ride back to the boat I paid closer attention to details throughout the small village. I was very comforted by the presence of spiritual graffiti everywhere I turned. There were bible verses right in plain sight that I did not see the first time because I was so blinded by the presentation of the land that I missed the presence of The Lord.
The hope I left with is this; life is often incongruent to my desire for everyone to be happy and comfortable. Happy and comfortable are circumstantial frailties, not gospel actualities. The people of The British Virgin Islands clearly understand that it is not what they have, but Who they have that makes their lives sufficient. This side of Heaven, where there is beauty there will always be brokenness. I tend to forget that so quickly. Lord Jesus, may my wealth always be found in you alone.
