Gift from poverty
God is alive!
I really disliked poverty, but it was a companion that never left my life.
I tried to save as much as possible because I worked hard to keep my distance from poverty, but I always had to spend.
As time passed and I chose the life of a missionary, I realized that poverty could be divided into two kinds.
One was the poverty of my young age, something I desperately wanted to escape from.
The other was the poverty that I came to accept as a part of my life's journey.
Living and working between the West Bank and Jerusalem, after paying rent with the small support we received from Korea, we barely had anything left.
On the way home after a day of ministry, it was so hard to pass by the pizza shop with its delicious aroma.
My two children kept chanting, “Pizza, pizza!” and begged us to buy some.
If we could buy just one pizza, wrap it in paper, and stand there eating it, we felt as if we had everything in the world.
In Israel, many families have several children.
Perhaps that's why all the restaurants had very generous service.
There was a restaurant on Ben Yehuda Street that our family really liked.
If you bought one bowl of soup, you could eat as much bread as you wanted.
We would buy two bowls of soup, slice plenty of bread for our family, and dip it into the soup, feeling completely satisfied.
As our finances dwindled further, we were left with just 1 shekel.
We didn’t even have enough money for transportation to our ministry.
In this faraway place, with no one we knew, it seemed like we had gotten used to the feeling of not being able to do anything.
One day, as I was praying all day, I suddenly remembered the time we lived in a storage room, and a Korean visitor came by, worried about us, and said:
"Why are you living like this when God isn't providing you with the finances?
Don’t you think this is a sign that you should stop?"
I pushed down the dark thoughts swirling in my mind and calmed myself.
I gathered the remaining rice and cooked dinner.
As I was washing the dishes, the German missionary we lived with came in carrying a box.
She placed it on the table and said,
“This box was brought to our office by someone from a Korean church, and they asked me to give it to you. Oh, and there’s a letter for you too.”
My husband and I opened the letter first.
"Dear missionary, although we only met briefly,
your family has left a deep impression on us.
I shared your story with my church in America,
and many people were touched by it.
I believe good news is coming your way."
Wow! God is truly Alive.
We were amazed and grateful that this respected American leader, whom we had met just once in Singapore, had taken the time to send a handwritten letter all the way from America to Israel. The fact that he introduced us to his church felt like a miracle.
As small missionaries, praying every day for finances while serving in a remote corner of Palestine, that day, God poured out tears of gratitude from heaven.
Holding the letter, my husband and I already felt as though we had received a response from America, and our hearts were full.
We then slowly opened the box. Inside were instant noodles, snacks, and a small message.
It said that a group of pilgrims from Korea had divided up items to give to missionaries, and they had sent some to us.
Beneath the items, there was a small white envelope at the bottom.
"Wow! It’s 100 dollars, honey!"
“Honey, now we can continue working here. God is telling us that even though we’re poor, we can still do His work. God sent us 100 dollars and even introduced us to an American church... Oh my, how could this happen…!"
How could this happen all of a sudden? It felt like God was truly watching over us.
If someone is caring for us, waiting for us, and keeping an eye on us like this, what can’t we do?
My husband and I hugged the children tightly with both arms and prayed a prayer of gratitude.
From the next day onward, we began each new day with excitement.
And we eagerly waited for news from that American church.
Though we haven’t heard from them to this day, the joy of that moment remains one of the greatest in my life.
Poverty no longer feels like sorrow or shame; I’ve come to understand it as a process of life that I simply need to embrace.
The tears and marks of endurance left by poverty shine like jewels, illuminating every corner of my life, and I’ve realized that such a life is a glorious and beautiful gift from God.
Every part of life’s journey is truly beautiful.
