Cold is the water, it freezes your already cold mind, already cold mind. Death is at your doorstep, and it will steal your innocence but it will not steal your substance.
The humidity is broken by an icy draft, the flickering shadows from the candlelight dancing across the pictures of Hindu Gods above doorways, Hindu Gods next to doorways, Hindu Gods in small gate-side shrines.
Darkness is a harsh term don’t you think, and yet it dominates the things I think.
Green mountains arrayed like shadowy guards set a backdrop for this small Tamil and Malay community, the long drive through a palm oil plantation bringing us to the muddy Kuala Krai river. A dark, shriveled man sits seated at the back of a long narrow boat, hidden behind the blue haze of sweet cigarette smoke, arriving at the dock as if on cue.
Are we too young, with heads too strong, to bear the weight of these Lover’s eyes.
A short walk up past a soccer field, a few kids on mopeds eyeing us curiously, a short network of rights and lefts among unobtrusive concrete duplexes and wandering chickens. We entered the gate with a rusty creak, and Pastor shouted a greeting to the family inside.
You are not alone in this, and you are not alone in this. As brothers we will stand and we’ll hold your hand, hold your hand.
The faint smell of incense still lingered, and we were offered snacks and refreshments as we normally are in these Hindu homes. The bare concrete walls held small, framed pictures. Wedding pictures, religious pictures, family pictures… Pastor set about preparing to distribute the boxes of nutrient rich chocolate powder, claimed to prevent anything from cancer to HIV to heart attacks, while he instructed us on how to go about the real reason we were here, a prayer walk around the dirt paths of the village.
But I can’t move the mountains for you.
I walked, the Spirit of the Lord stirring up inside me, words to the Lord fervently falling on houses, on people, the Kingdom of the Lord spreading at my feet with every step I took.
You saw no fault, no cracks in my heart, and you knelt beside, my hope torn apart.
Each concrete house I passed I internally proclaimed Isaiah 60:18, “You will call your walls salvation, your gates praise”.
Awake my soul
The more we walked the more attention we drew.
Lend me your hand and we’ll conquer them all, lend me your heart and I’ll just let you fall, lend me your eyes and I’ll change what you see, but your soul you must keep totally free.
I had been praying fervently all morning. The more I learn out here, the more I realize it’s the most important thing I can do.
Love that will not betray you dismay or enslave you, it will set you free; be more like the man you were made to be.
Samson gestured me over to where he was standing, a small crowd of Malay kids around him. Before I know it, names had somehow been exchanged, Samson had disappeared, they had discovered and exploited the depth of my limited Malay vocabulary, and they led me off.
So I break my step and relent, you forgave but I won’t forget.
My hands were grasped firmly in theirs, the almost familiar smiles breaking out like hives.
Raise my hands, make my spirit grow,
And with a shout, “LET’S GO!” We take off, me in the lead, the village’s entire collection of children rolling around in laughter at my heals, boys on bikes skidding on loose rocks and sand piles, the smallest boy of them all, Iwan, beaming at my side.
You can understand dependence when you know the Maker’s hand.
For some reason the Lord’s been putting kids in my life over and over and over again this month. Everywhere I go I find myself somehow drawn to them and them to me, and can’t shake the feeling that every time I feel their small hands in mine, the Kingdom inside me leaks out. And the Father I’ve found in the Lord burns in me like a fire and I don’t know why. But I’ve found a love for these kids I didn’t expect to find, a heart and a joy and a patience and a compassion and a love for them that’s so strong sometimes I can’t find words to express it.
You were made to meet your Maker, you were made to meet your Maker.
And when I look into their bright eyes, I see Jesus waving back, wryly.
I was told by Jesus all was well, so all must be well.
We would pass adults, out hanging laundry or sweeping their front porches, and they would stare at me wildly, amused. And I glowed, I could feel myself glowing. I could see it reflected in their surprised faces.
Hold me fast cuz I’m a hopeless wanderer, and I will learn to love the skies I wander
Dancing around fields and down roads, the sky steadily getting darker, I don’t know what to do with these kids. I don’t know what to say.
You and I, we will be alright, just hold on to what we know is true.
But I would shout and they would echo, and chants I’ve never said came to my lips like rhymes I grew up with, songs sprang in a language not my own and not theirs, and we danced like children all over that village, Jesus almost bursting out my chest.
And I walk slow, I walk slow, take my hand help me on my way.
When I’m with these kids I have no plan, no go-to games, no idea how to interact with them. I find myself there with them, listening, and I’ll here that old familiar voice say “Just follow my lead”.
I will hold on hope, and I won’t let you choke on the noose around your neck, and I’ll find strength in pain, and I will change my ways, I’ll know my name when it’s called again.
And somehow out of all of this, I inexplicably find when I’m with them such peace and comfort and sense of belonging, such hope and purpose and joy.
I will wait, I will wait for You.
When words escape me, and the moment seems on the brink of collapse, I can’t help but see Jesus ferociously hugging each of these children.
So give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light, ‘cause ohhh they gave me such a fright. But I will hold on as long as you like, just promise me we’ll be alright.
And I move in to love them one more time like I’ve known all along how to do it, their laughter piercing the heavy night air like rays of light.
I know my call despite my faults and despite my growing fears.
I can’t help but feel like a Father when I’m out here. I can’t help but feel like they’re mine. I can’t help but feel like I know what I’m doing here.
Hold on to what you believe, in the night, when the darkness has robbed you of your sense
The Lord has already taught me to give what I can, leave what I’m able, cover these children in prayer and let Him take care of the rest.
The ghosts that we knew will flicker from view, and we’ll live a long life.
My eyes lock with theirs and my heart bursts into song, rejoicing.
Keep the Earth below my feet. For all my sweat my blood runs weak. Let me learn from where I have been, keep my eyes to serve, my hands to learn.
I’m learning more about God from these children than I’ve learned from hours of bible studies. I’m learning more about the Gospel and the hope it brings in the smiles and the laughter of little kids who can’t understand me, than I have through lecture upon lecture of doctrine and instruction.
When your hope is on fire, and you know your desire, don’t hold a glass over the flame, don’t let your heart grow cold, I will call you by name, I will share the road
I paraded around with these kids for what felt like days, my heart on fire, all the way back to the house we first started at, their hands in mine, their shouts ringing in my ears. By this time, more of the family had come home, Sheri already talking to a couple of the girls, the sons home and starting to engage. As soon as we arrived, Samson was instructed to head to the end of the block, where there was apparently a family from his home state in India he could talk to.
Now I’ll be bold, as well as strong, use my head alongside my heart. So take my flesh and fix my eyes, tell them I’m free from the lies
I accompanied, my heart on fire with prayer. And I watched as He shared the Gospel with the family out front, and I could somehow almost understand every beautiful word he was saying. The Gospel goes out with power.
I’m a cad but I’m not a fraud, I set out to serve the Lord.
I knew we were glowing even before the auntie eventually told him we were, and they heard, for the first time, the hope of the Gospel.
Where you invest your love, you invest your life.
She approached Pastor later, confused, wondering what gave us such a power and such a glow, and what the feeling of intense peace and comfort and unburdened life was in her chest when we told her about Jesus.
There will come a time you’ll see, with no more tears, when love will not break your heart but dismiss your fears. Get over the hill and see what you find there, with grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.
I’m reminded in times like this how much I love the Gospel. How much power God still has available to use, if only we’d open our mouths and offer our hands and let Him. I’m reminded in times like this, as we were ushered out of the house with waves and hugs, how much joy there’s left still to give. I’m reminded in times like this, the old woman walking back to her house, having asked the Lord into her heart and Pastor for a Tamil Bible, how much freedom there still is waiting to set people free. The moon lit the way as we made our way one last time through the village, the shouts of the kids echoing in the darkness with the song we made up as we passed, “LA LA, LI LA LO!!” I’m reminded in times like this, as my whole body is flooded with love for 20 new village children and an old Indian woman going to bed with Christ in her heart for the first time, how blessed I am that God’s put me here. The Kingdom of the Lord is real. There is power in the name of Jesus. There is a place He has prepared for us, a place where He can join us and we are home, and it’s right here in me, and it’s right here in you, and it’s right up there with Him forever and ever.
I’ll be home in a little while, Lover I’ll be home.
Love,
Danny
