The Cry of the Poor

A candle loses nothing by sharing its flame. All the more, when two candles are united, do the flames reach higher, brighter, hotter. How brightly the world would burn if every soul were united, generously receiving and giving in kind! Gone would be the need to care for self if every soul participated in that responsibility.

I have often reflected on the needs of this world. Solutions and treatises have floated through my mind but never took root. I assumed if I were called by our King to serve the poor, I would feel His hand on my shoulder and sense His finger pointing me to the person whom I was to bless with my generosity. How presumptuous a thing! By their very existence, the call is made and the cry is wordlessly seen in their eyes and felt in my heart that is made uncomfortable. The greater poverty would exist in me should I ignore any person whose need I may have the capacity to fulfil. Time, treasure, and talent are abundant when I wish to serve my King—how much more, then, must they be given to those among whom my King saw fit to dwell? His poverty was greater than anyone else’s.

Yet, an even deeper truth stirs my heart. The flaw exists in the assumption that all poverty is visible. How much greater a need lays in the human heart that longs for the King but refuses to accept His hand? Perhaps they would take my hand, and with the other, I may grasp the King’s and become the bridge between them.

Yes, the depth of my being stirs in response. The King blots out my every flaw in a tidal delivery of grace and magnanimity overflows my cup into the hand that I hold. I must accept every hand.

— Excerpt from the diary of Ambassador Honoura

Posted in Magnanimity.