Eva, My Sister

People often tell me I am a generous giver. They tell me I don’t think about myself. They tell me I am so kind to others. To those who have said those things, I would like to say thank you… and here is a rebuttal to your comments.

Within one week after I gave Eva her first bag of clothes and food, there was a drastic change in our relationship. My giving seemed to open a door for her. She acted like she expected me to provide for her now and was less humble in the asking and less grateful in the receiving.

I gave her that first bag on Monday. On Wednesday, she asked if I could give her any soap. I clarified whether she needed soap for washing clothes or for washing her body and she said they could use either one for anything. At least I thought that’s what she said. There must have been some miscommunication in there because I gave her two bars of body soap that afternoon, and on Thursday she told me I had provided soap for her body instead of her clothing, insinuating that I had given the wrong thing. Later that day I brought her laundry soap and she took it without a smile or a thank you.

On Friday afternoon, she told me she needed math instruments for her examination the following Monday. Hers had apparently been stolen by classmates, which infuriates me, but there was nothing I could do about that. Thinking she needed only a basic compass and protractor for the problems on the exam, I offered to ask around and see if I could track some down over the weekend, but she replied that she needed the whole set that comes in a kit and did not elaborate on what that included. I agreed to either get one for her to keep or find one for her to borrow for Monday, and her response was that they sell the kits in Mukono for 2,500 shillings. I don’t know if that advice was meant to be helpful or to communicate that she didn’t want to borrow one.

What bothers me the most is that now she expects. Now she expects to be able to come to me with specific requests—sometimes multiple times a day—and that I will fill them as willingly as I filled the first one. In one week, I went from the generous giver to the person who is supposed to provide for her. Sometimes I want to repeat the words she told me in our first conversation, that beggars have no choice in what they get.

But the thing is: She is God’s child too. She is a person too. Therefore, she is my family. And no one is considered a generous giver when they provide for the basic needs of their family. No, it is expected of them. It is their responsibility. It is my responsibility. She is my sister… and what wouldn’t I do for my sisters?

In my acceptance of Christ and commitment to follow him, I waived my right to receive gratitude. I waived my right to get credit. By acknowledging Christ, I am also acknowledging that what I have is not my own. The things for which Eva is asking are not coming from me; they are coming from God through a very blessed and comparatively rich mzungu. In a way, Eva is doing me a favor by letting me know what she needs so I know the best way to give, just like God gives us commands to show the best ways to love him. As a Christian, I should never expect thanks. I should never ask for it. I should never withhold something because thanks has been withheld from me. I should rejoice that God is using me when he could use anybody. I am not the only one who can meet Eva’s needs right now, but I have the privilege of the opportunity.

What blows my mind is that I am no different from Eva. Like so many other people, I have taken on a sense of entitlement when it comes to God. I have grown up in affluence and act like I deserve it. I act like God owes me food, like he owes me comfort, like he owes me forgiveness and joy and grace. How many times have I asked God for something, only to take it without thanks or to complain that what he gave was not what I meant? And how many times has God stopped answering my prayers or severed ties with me because of my poor attitude? How awful life would be if God was more like me!

p.s. I will share more about Eva in a later post.