A difference?

I was driving through that poor, government housing section of town on 12th street today on my way back from working out. A question came to my mind. I am about to leave Waco, maybe for good, in a few months. I have been here 2 and a half years. Have I made any difference at all while I was here? Is Waco worse off with me gone? Was it better with me here? Have I done a single thing in two and a half years for a poor person here in Waco, Texas, one of the poorest cities in the country?

My ego assures me that I have made a difference in the life of my friends. But I am sure that is primarily because they have made a difference in my life. But Jesus seemed to make a difference not only in his friends' lives, but in strangers' lives. He made a difference in the towns he would visit and he would only be there for a few days or so.

Again, my ego reminds me that, "Yeah, but He was the Son of God." Yeah, but I am his disciple. Or at least I claim to be. I am convinced now more than ever that I care nothing for those less fortunate than me and that I have done very little if anything to help the society in which I have lived the past 24 years.

Father, forgive me. Father, I believe, help my unbelief. Father, I care, help my apathy. Father, I know it matters, help my indifference.