I am proud to say that I am a Christian: for it is the faith that is dearly and preciously held by many of the poorest peoples of the earth. Of course, what implications this faith has for somebody as rich as I am is no doubt going to be profoundly different in many respects to the ways in which it holds out a promise and challenge to those who are desperately materially poor and marginalised from worldly power and control (even from control over the mundane events of their own lives!). What this faith calls me to, something which is both a task and a blessing, is no more clearly stated than in the Beatitudes. This faith calls me to renounce a good deal of what makes me rich and of that which keeps me at arms length from personal vulnerability. It demands that I renounce or give up those things and securities which keep me aloof from the neighbourliness and oneness of fellowship which are the truest marks of the presence of Christ in our world and in my personal experience. It calls me to embrace and demand justice, even where that call may jeopardize my own privilege and the “options” I may have for the future. It calls me to face my own fears and to trust instead in the provision of God; to confess my pride and seek out and learn from those whom the “world” says have nothing to offer – least of all their “ideas”. It calls me to undress my ludicrous and expensive self images and put on the cloak of costly discipleship – all for the sake of an identity which shares the marks of those who live with poverty – the marks and the life of Jesus of Nazareth! In fact it calls me, over and over again, to seek Christ in the face of the poor and the stranger. To seek him in the face of the bedraggled slum dweller, who, with crooked teeth, dirty hands, and a hacking cough welcomes me once again to walk around their home (God’s home!) and to sit for awhile. It beckons me to recognise my own poverty of spirit and then, from this place of humility, this garden of the most basic human matter – the little plot of soil of our human personhood – to work for the enrichment of others, which is the true path to growth.

My recent trip to India brought this alive for me once again. How great a privilege to travel with Dino Touthang, the director of EFICOR, and to visit the remote and marginalised village in Chattisgarth where he and his wife lived for 5 years. To witness the poor of this marginalised tribal village greet him as a long lost friend. To see the church that has grown from the labours of himself and other humble workers in this little dusty field of rural India. To see how a young poor family who received a loan the equivalent of a $100 Aussie dollars have used it to build up a little business selling “Country chickens” at the local markets, and how they have used the profits to buy granaries to store their rice – to see them filled to overflowing! – thus providing protection from fickle harvests and monsoons. To hear of how the wife was healed from a serious illness. To see the red crosses they have built into the frames of their windows. To see Dino so moved, so quietly but deeply happy, so full of joy at what has happened in this humble home – it was nothing less than to witness the beatitudes being lived by the poor and non-poor together. As Geoff Broughton, who was traveling with me, said as we walked away: “I’ve got goosebumps.” And I had a lump in my throat. It is these moments of revelation that present the chance to recommit ourselves to living the beatitudes: these moments are a gift to us, and, when we unwrap them, inevitably we find that they are also a gift for others. They are a challenge and a call to live differently and by a different value. They are the deep blessing of being with Beatitude people. And they are the blessing of being called to be the change we want to see.