What the Beggar Learns First

Artwork Credit: The Pinch of Poverty (1889) by Thomas Benjamin Kennington (1856–1916).
Public domain image accessed via Artvee.com.

   I was still a child when I began to understand what it meant to lack. We lived from paycheck to paycheck. Sometimes, that paycheck could not stretch far enough. We had to borrow, but not from relatives, because most of them were barely managing themselves, too. We would borrow from acquaintances who had a little more space to give instead.

    Some helped us. I wonder if they realized how much strength that gave us. Maybe for them it was simple, but for us, it brought relief we could not repay. Others were unable to help, and I understood that, too. Life weighs heavily on all in different ways. But now and then, some refusals came with sharp glances or words that left wounds. I often saw my mother cry. It was painful to watch.

    Perhaps that was when I quietly resolved I would study well and work hard. I did not want to rise to forget. I wanted to rise and lift some of the burden she carried. I wanted to become someone who could lift burdens when others could not.

    In those very moments of being small and dependent, I believe now the Lord allowed those years to teach me. He let us feel the lack so we would learn to value provision. He let us be refused so we would understand mercy. He placed us in need so we would recognize grace for what it truly is, unearned, undeserved, freely given. He was not simply shaping my future; He was shaping my understanding of grace. I was being taught that we are all beggars before God.

    We do not stand before Him with wages. We stand with need. And in His mercy, He allows us to feel that need early to prepare us to receive what cannot be earned.

    “He raises the poor from the dust and lifts the beggar from the ash heap, to set them among princes” (1 Sam 2:8, NKJV). But He lifts not those who come in pride, nor those who pretend sufficiency. He lifts those who know they have nothing to offer, and no right to demand.

    This is what the beggar learns first—that grace is not for the deserving. It is for the desperate. And though the world may honor strength, God meets the weak. Though men respect effort, salvation is for those who cry out empty-handed.

    Years have passed, but that early experience still reminds me: Christ became poor for our sake, so that we, through His poverty, might become rich (2 Cor 8:9). Rich—not in wealth or comfort—but in the mercy that reaches low and raises us higher than we could ever climb on our own.

    And if the Lord allows us to be strong now, may we never forget where we were found. Let us remember those still learning what it means to wait, to need, to ask. For we who were once beggars must never despise the dust. Instead, we must stoop with mercy, speak with tenderness, and give as those who know what it means to be given everything.