Roy Mwesigwa is a native Ugandan, and a very good friend of a very good friend of mine, Greg Taylor. Roy recently visited the United States for the second time in his life, and I had the privilege of sharing some time with him while he passed through Tulsa. As a group of us shared a meal together at a local Chinese restaurant, we peered across the parking lot at a Wal-Mart. Roy was the first person I had ever met who had not been inside of a Wal-Mart, so after we finished our meal we escorted Roy on a tour of the super-chain. I should explain that it was only a Wal-Mart Neighborhood Market, the grocery-store-only, baby-version of the typical “super” Wal-Mart, so we found ourselves apologizing for this tiny version of the real thing as the glass doors slid open. The wide-eyed look of disbelief and painted smile on Roy’s face told us that he wasn’t able to mentally process even this mini-version of opulence, and probably couldn’t fathom the grander scale that we attempted to describe.

We started with the Red Box movie rental machine out front, explaining to Roy the many entertainment options at his fingertips. He seemed entranced by the machine. As we moved inside, Roy’s eyes met the high ceilings and I imagined a small boy in a blue blazer stepping into Santa’s Workshop, or Charlie taking his first look into the ominous Chocolate Factory. I didn’t see him blink once as he gazed in awe at aisle after aisle of choices; a pyramid of oranges stacked to shoulder height, piles of potatoes, tomatoes of all sizes, packaged breads of various colors and shapes, an entire row of soda choices, and another of only coffee and tea options. When we came to the refrigerated, dairy section, Roy asked me if each glass door that separated product from shopper was an individual refrigerator. I can’t explain his reaction when I told him to look closer, informing him that the entire bank of glass doors was simply the front side of a very large, refrigerated room filled from floor to ceiling with cold product. At this point, some shoppers seemed to sense that something different was happening and a few began to look at Roy with looks of strange curiosity.

I must admit that, while it was a complete joy for me to share in this experience with Roy, I also felt a pervasive sense of guilt coursing through my veins as I imagined the comparisons that Roy was making between the extravagance that we were showing him, and his lifestyle in Uganda. He asked if there were smaller stores that competed with the mega store. Someone replied, “a few, but Wal-Mart runs most of the smaller stores out of business.” Realizing that smaller, independently-owned stores are all he knows, a pinch of sadness now swirled into the amalgam of fun, exhilaration, excitement, dizziness, guilt and extravagance.

What we have at our disposal in America is nothing short of amazing when compared to the rest of the world. Still, if you pay attention to our headlines, it seems that so much of our privilege and luxury is lost in a sea of dissatisfaction, selfishness, and an overpowering sense of entitlement among Americans. I’m not bashing America. I’m very proud to be American but if we’re honest, we’d probably admit that we all take it for granted on certain levels. My experience with Roy, however, helped me to see a bit clearer the reality in which I live, and how it is much different than many other realities across the globe. Of course I knew this before meeting Roy, but there was something poignant about looking into his dark-brown eyes as he saw my world for the first time. At that moment, Uganda had a face, a voice, a personality, a handshake, a smile, and a name; Roy Mwesigwa. His last name means “honest man,” and the eyes of my new friend from across the world certainly spoke truth to me that day. Despite our differences, we are all in this together and I find myself, more and more, wanting to look into the eyes of my neighbors and see the world through their perspectives. We all have our own reality and we are all right where God has placed us, but through they eyes of our neighbor, we can go anywhere, allowing us to see beyond our personal experiences.  Where are you right now? Who is your neighbor? Where do you want to go, and what do you think God wants you to do with your reality?

As many know by now, a revised version of our president’s health care reform bill was passed a few days ago. We could debate various perspectives for or against the bill, predicted implications of the bill, consequences for the health care industry and our quality of care moving forward, but analysts on every channel are already spinning all of this in droves. Set aside, for a moment, your political affiliation and your feelings about government’s level of involvement in our lives. Instead, I’d like to view this discussion with a different lens.

First, I will admit that I have experienced two sides of health care. I have been completely without insurance and have absorbed medical costs as a result, and I have also been over-insured and benefited from sharing health care expenses. As a husband and a father, I do believe in the importance of having health care insurance, especially in this age of massively absorbent medical costs. However, is medical insurance a human right? What litmus should we use to define a human right? Is the health care issue in America a social injustice on the level of child sex trafficking or racial discrimination? There is little doubt that these are two issues that must anger God. In a world, however, full of such explicit inhumanities, I wonder what God thinks of America’s attitude and energy expended about our debate over health care rights. Are the lines between rights and entitlements beginning to blur? Have we finally crossed the line as a nation into full-blown opulence or are we finally addressing a real American oppression?

What I would like to know is if you feel Christianity has anything to say about what is and what is not a natural-born right. Does this health care topic intersect with your faith?