This past week, we had an opportunity to go and spend time with indigenous children here in Malaysia. We piled into a white van, and as my knees stuck to the leather seats in front of me, I peered out the window passing the untamed jungle and wild as we drove by.
We tumbled out of the van and after we got our bearings, we made our way into a church with loose tile floors and wood walls. Children, little faces with little hands, made their way into the room, sitting in the farthest corners, their voices hushed and their giggles soft.
They did not know our language and we did not know theirs.
A couple girls on my team led us into some songs and shouts and dancing, and as they did, those soft voices and giggles got a little louder. As I was standing there singing a song, with my elbows and butt stuck out twirling in a circle, I had a thought.
I have a choice. I have a choice as to whether I want to give these kids a little bit of my heart or if I want to give it all. I have a choice to just dip my toes or to go all in. I have a choice as to if I want to get caught up in how I look or if I want to get caught up in love.
In that split second moment, I got to make a decision and I made a choice to love some little lives with all that I had.
And it was like in that moment, I could hear Jesus whispering to my heart as to whether I would, lay down my life for Him by laying my afternoon down for these kids. Would I lay it all out for a moment of joy, a moment of laughter, a moment of hope?
So for the next couple hours, I ran after children, until I caught them and spun them or tickled them to the ground. And as they giggled and poked me and invited me into the chase, I prayed over them. I prayed hope and power and might over them, that they would get so close to their Dad, and that He would make them champions and deliverers in their generation.
And when we were driving away, the little boys pushed the rear of the van, chasing after it, leaving clouds of dust behind them from their feet. They threw pink flowers into our windows, and maybe all our hearts paused for a single moment.
I did not get to know every name of every child that day, but I got to know so many smiles. And I do not know the intimate details of their stories, but I got to know the look on their faces when they finally got to be held.
And I tell you, by the end of that afternoon, they were not hushed voices, and soft giggles. They were loud laughs and yelling enthusiasm and outrageous joy.
Makes me think, can God use one afternoon to set someone free?
Maybe. And maybe it wasn’t the children that got set free, but maybe it was me.
