Comfort Zone....Really??

I think I’m dehydrated from crying so much. Her blogs are not just telling the stories of broken lives and needy souls, they’re revealing her heart…her passion…who she really is…and she tells them so beautifully, so compellingly, so blatantly, so graciously. But why do they affect me so much? Why do they have to be about so much pain and sadness and brokenness. Why couldn’t they be fairy tales with happy endings or just human interest stories from other countries or theological lessons she’s learning from exposure to different church backgrounds and denominations. Instead, I have to deal with feelings of conviction, disgust, hatred, anger, helplessness, despair, sadness, and many other unpleasant emotions that rise up in me as I’m confronted with the harsh reality of the shattered and torn lives of total strangers I’ve only met because I let myself be vulnerable and I read their stories. Through her blogs, I meet these people….I find out about these people….I know about these people. They have names now and families….like me! I can’t deny their existence anymore. I can’t ignore their plights anymore. I can’t claim ignorance anymore…I know too much. I can’t be naïve anymore…I am no longer clueless to their struggles. But it’s supposed to be their feelings of loss, abandonment, heartache, trauma, indignity, hurt, horror, deprivation….not mine! After all, I’m just reading a story, a diary, a journal.

Why do I now feel like I’ve lost my innocence…my excuses…I’m SO uncomfortable now, SO bothered, SO annoyed at what I’ve heard and can’t do anything about….SO aware of just how messed up this planet is and instead of answers, I have more questions! I am SO out of my comfort zone…isn’t that what we say now in modern times, especially in the church? We like to be in our “comfort zones”, and when we’re presented with opportunities to step out and do something new and daring and exciting and dare I say, impactful or life-changing, the first thing that pops out of our mouths is, “I don’t think I can handle that…it puts me too far out of my comfort zone…it’s just not me, but I’ll pray about it”… blah,blah,blah. Why does that now leave a sour taste in my mouth? We avoid situations that threaten us or push us too close to the edge of our comfort levels….and we avoid people who make us feel guilty or convicted about things that are “uncomfortable” to think about. Where did that thinking come from? Forget for a minute that I have principles or convictions and that I claim to be a follower of Jesus Christ….let’s put aside the obvious reason for motivating me to become involved in things or with people who make me uncomfortable. Let’s say I’m an atheist or have no belief system which dictates moral responsibility to others in need. How can I be human but not humanitarian? How can I just look the other way once I’ve become aware and just change the channel to watch something more entertaining, something light and mindless…because, after all, life is hard enough. It is?! Since when? Is my life hard?! Where did I get that idea?!! So, eventually my senses become dulled…so what. That can be a good thing, right? And what’s wrong with that? I didn’t cause anyone to be poor or trapped in slavery or prostitution or become sick or a victim of a natural disaster or a member of an abusive family or a citizen of a corrupt government or a victim of rape or an orphan…I can’t be blamed for all these problems in the world! Let’s be reasonable. Those things happened from poor choices and unfortunate events. So it’s really ok to turn away from the ugliness, to close my eyes from the grotesque, to cover my ears from the crying and noise, to hold my nose from the stench, to wear gloves to protect me from the germs and contagion….so get off my back! What’s the big deal?! I shouldn’t have to experience these peoples’struggles. And so what if eventually I can’t see, or hear, or smell, or feel anything except what I want to. That’s my right, my choice.

How did comfort become my goal? How did it all become about me and my feelings being protected. Why do my feelings matter when theirs don’t? How did I get the privilege of living securely and safely and comfortably? How did I get rights? How did I get to be free? How did I get to be educated? How did I get to hear about the love and forgiveness and sacrifice of Jesus Christ and choose to follow Him without any negative consequences? How is it ok to be indifferent to others’ pain, to be uninvolved in human sufferings….why is that an option? Apparently it is in most places that I’ve lived. I’ve always heard that “what you don’t know won’t hurt you” and “ignorance is bliss”. What is that about? Are these words of wisdom that I should build my life around and strive for….to raise up a wall of protection around me so that I can be unaware and ignorant and therefore, it won’t cost me anything or hurt my feelings or “require” any response from me. I’m so disgusted with my acquiescence, my apathy, my COMFORT! I thought I had come further than this. I really thought I had become a decent human being who cared deeply for all people, all races, all cultures. I thought my heart had been broken for the downtrodden and poor. Instead, I’ve kept my world so small and predictable. I’ve been controlling the thermostat and shutting the doors to make sure my environment is air-tight and free of pollutants, bugs, heat, smells, unpleasant sounds like the cries of hunger or those in pain right here in my own city not to mention the rest of the globe. How in any way can this be acceptable? I’ve made sure that I was always relatively comfortable…I’ve bought into our culture that says I should be comfortable. I even spout about how God is teaching me to branch out of my “comfort zone” almost as if it’s real or something spiritual. As far as I know, it doesn’t even exist! It’s not in the Bible. I guess we got it from the Declaration of Independence where it mentions our right to the ”pursuit of happiness”. Yes, happiness must mean comfort. But somehow, it doesn’t make me happy to know that I get to be comfortable when so many aren’t. It doesn’t make me happy to know that just because I grew up with privilege and freedom that I should claim it as a right just because I can… while they can’t….is that when they say, “stinks for them?”. I always wondered when that expression was acceptable…I get it now.

This is a real dilemma. I’ve been reading these blogs and they’re making me think, they’re making me feel, they’re making me cry, they’re making me wonder… what did I think about or feel before I learned about so many precious but tragic lives? It does stink for them. They don’t have a choice. They don’t have the option of being comfortable. And, they’re making me UNCOMFORTABLE!!