How can it be that we sit high above the Falls Creek snowfields in a luxury apartment while a million Haitians suffer the horrors of homelessness, hunger, disease and crime? Why am I allowed to enjoy the rooftop of the world while others have no roof at all? How do I balance gratitude for all I have with responsibility to those who have not?

These questions eat at my heart, I do not know the answers, and I came away on a two day vacation with my Favourite Wife hoping to listen for truth.

Almost half the world – over three billion people – live on less than $2.50 a day. At least 80% of humanity lives on less than $10 a day. According to UNICEF, 25,000 children die each day due to poverty. And they “die quietly in some of the poorest villages on earth, far removed from the scrutiny and the conscience of the world. Being meek and weak in life makes these dying multitudes even more invisible in death” (UrbanMinistry.com).

I grew up in a beautiful part of Sydney in a magnificent family home. We lived on the North Shore, in the suburbs that are often described somewhat acerbically in the media as ‘leafy’; where the beautiful people live in beautiful houses. And I loved it; enjoying sweeping views of the harbour and daily walks to swim or fish on any of several beaches. Our gang of cousins and friends enjoyed an idyllic childhood roaming the harbour foreshore bushland. We mastered several ingenious ways of getting into nearby Taronga Zoo, the most daring of which involved sneaking quietly through the North American Bison enclosure; far removed from other exhibits because of their smell. By about age 18, spurred on by an encounter with Mother Theresa, my adolescent instinct was to reject all of this and look for truth on the open road. I somehow found my way into the Gibson Desert as a junior missionary, carrying a mixture of guilt and denial about my silver-spoon homeland.

Renunciation, however, simply avoids the question, and is dangerously close to ingratitude. Gratitude is essential, I am deeply thankful to God for every experience of His world, and for the richness of my life that has allowed me the luxury of choice.

We cannot plead ignorance; our flat panel TVs bear nightly witness to the true state of the world. Nor can we plead impotence: an online gift to Haiti or Somalia or anywhere else on the planet can be made from most of our lounge rooms in a moment.

Nor does our own suffering acquit us, although I have learned that you can rarely guess the pain of another, no matter how comfortable their life appears. From my own recent medical predicament I can recall the faces of over 50 doctors who have treated me in 16 months, and yet in many parts of the world there is just one doctor to meet the dire needs of tens of thousands. Similarly, Karen and I feel we have earned our vacation because our little girl is in respite care for the first time in some nine months. We might sleep all night! But this sense of self-justification comes nowhere near answering the question: what must we do?

A Christian friend sent me this quote during the week: “Sleeping comfortably in our beds while 1000 million human beings are not just suffering but surely and painfully dying from deprivation in hopelessness and fear, speaks not of our conversion but eloquently of our complacence” (Anthony Gittens). My complacence troubles me immensely, as do the BIG questions of God’s sovereignty and our responsibility.

It snowed here in Falls Creek two days ago and it’s an acid test of my own insatiable appetite that I’m more than a little disappointed that the snow didn’t wait for ME! Surely God could have arranged that. In fact I have to make the ugly confession that my prayers and hopes were as much for the possibility of another snow fall as they were for the suffering world beyond the breathtaking horizon. Enough never seems to be enough.

Shortly after arriving home a mob of Kangaroos grazing over the road from our home spoke to me in a surprisingly impacting way. It’s a story for another day, but I was reminded that there is a divine purpose in our lives; that – if we are willing – we are in the right place at the right time, bearing great gifts that can make a world of difference.

In last week’s blog I firmly rejected any comment, warning against sugary platitudes. But this week I know that I do not know enough. I welcome your thoughts…