Sad news and the tug of war between bitterness and grief.

Today I lost a friend. His name is Steve Mwitwa Kwaywa. He was a student at Copperbelt University in Zambia with a bright future in business. He was MY friend. He looks pretty serious in this picture but he had an amazing sense of humor and was goofy most of the time.

The first time I went to Zambia, he was having dinner with me at the Chifunda home. He made me feel accepted and welcomed. He joked that I should try the fried caterpillars because "they taste just like prawns!" Then he laughed uncontrollably when I reported that they taste NOTHING like prawns!

When I visited again in August, he was not well. An apparent liver infection had hospitalized him. Chomba and I visited him and he was in considerable agony. But he managed a smile of recognition when he saw me. "Hi Nate! How are you doing?" He grinned.

Apparently there had been a cancerous growth on his liver that finally killed him. I'm not sure if it was ever diagnosed or treated. I do know that when he needed testing and surgery the first time, the hospital left him writhing in pain for days just because the diagnostics center had closed for the weekend. I know the Zambian medical system was slow to help him and probably couldn't (or wouldn't) have properly treated his cancer given his financial restrictions.

The bitter part for me is that several years ago, he turned down an opportunity to study in America. He wouldn't leave his family or his home in Zambia even though it would have meant greater opportunity. It also might have meant better medical treatment. It could have saved his life.

This is my first personal brush with the cold reality that poverty can kill. I personally have friends and family who are able to receive life-saving cancer treatments. Some can even travel to the Mayo Clinic for specialized treatment. Why? Simply because they live here and have insurance that will cover such things. Had Steve NOT been born Zambian, he might still be alive facing a bright future.

Forgive me for being political. But I have often commented on the barbarism of living in a system that forces millions of Americans to CHOOSE between sickness and financial ruin. I simply cannot believe we would oppose universal healthcare in favor of tax cuts and then call it a "platform of Christian values" as though health were a luxury commodity.

But Steve HAD no choice. He didn't get to choose between money and health. He had neither, and in the end I believe it killed him. Is that fair? Is it right?

It was once hard to believe anyone could be poorer than me. I would tell the vendors in Kenya that I was a student and was too poor to buy their trinkets. They would always give me a patronizing smile because of course that was a lie. Poverty isn't just the lack of cash. It's the lack of options. It boxes you in and often sends you careening down one of many tragic paths that you can see clearly but can't do a damned thing about. And more often than I'd like to admit, that lack of options can kill.

I started building more authentic friendships with these "optionless" people a couple years ago. And it has already started to ruin me. Would I recommend it? I think so... But today I feel tenuous. I'm glad I knew Steve. I would never trade that in. But poverty is a stigma among the middle class for a reason. It makes me uncomfortable and if I let it, it will make me profoundly sad.

But God has been teaching me about compassion this month. Like the Grinch, I feel my heart is growing a few sizes bigger each day. So I'm no longer protecting myself from sad or uncomfortable situations. I'm crying more, empathizing more, and for once, those feelings don't threaten to swallow me whole. I know that I can handle empathy and compassion (com-passion: to suffer alongside) while still having a firmly-rooted identity in Christ. My finances, my status, and my comfort may be threatened but my identity is not.

Today I'm "suffering alongside" Steve's family and friends. Truthfully, I am one of them.