Yesterday was the hardest day I’ve had yet with doing ministry in high poverty areas. Just outside the city lies a river and on the other side are tent homes making up the slums of Kathmandu.
As we walked up to the slum we were greeted by a multitude of children. They swarmed us asking for chocolate. Was this a normal thing Americans bring these kids? I thought.
“No, I don’t have any chocolate,” I answered.
“Money, money,” they demanded to the answer I gave.
“No, I don’t have any money.” They seemed puzzled. Well, if you don’t have money and you don’t have chocolate, what do you have? I’m sure they wondered.
“I have something much better, I have a bible,” I said. Not questioning a free handout, the kids grabbed the bibles out of my hands as I started to pass them out. They fought over them and were disappointed with me when I quickly ran out. I wanted to have more to give to them but I also didn’t want to be one of those who thinks they are helping by giving and end up hurting. I don’t know if any of these kids could actually read, but it didn’t matter because when God wants someones heart He will fine His way in. I just have to be faithful to what he is asking me to do. The bibles were written in Nepalese so, if they’re parents could read, maybe, just maybe, they could read it together.
As the kids ran rapid from one of my teammates to another, I noticed one little girl who stuck close by me. She had a stiff handicap arm that she held behind her with her fingers clasped shut. When the other kids backed off for a second, she took her chance and sprinted towards me hugging me with all her might. Still holding on, she tilted her head back and looked up at me with a beautiful big grin. The other kids quickly came back begging for attention, chocolate and money. They pushed the little girl away and drew in closer. Because there were so many kids and all of them were constantly pushing each other I didn’t really stop to think about where the little girl went.
I turned my head a few minutes later and was completely dismayed over the sight of the other slum children beating this little handicap girl.
“NO, NO, NO,” I screamed as I ran over and picked her up. The children were confused and they proceeded to point at her defected arm. I sat in the dirt with this small child holding her, making noises and silly faces to stop her tears. It didn’t take her long to stop crying, she grabbed me and pulled me closer, looked up at me and smiled. The dress I was wearing…didn’t matter that it was in the dirt; the fact that she might have lice… didn’t matter; her snot that seemed to cover her entire face …didn’t matter; she needed to be held and that’s all that mattered.
The sight of us sitting in the dirt must have been a new sight for the children in the slums to see. They just approached us and stared. Some kids would run up, punch the little girl in the face and run away. When I yelled and covered her with my body they pointed to her arm again. It was as if they assumed I hadn’t seen it and when I did I would become disgusted with the child I was holding and maybe even join them. I looked down at her arm and smiled. I put out my hand and she placed her little tight fist in my hand. I gently rubbed my fingers back and forth while holding her arm. She looked up at me amazed that her tiny hand was in mine. I looked at the kids across from me who had formed a circle around us and said “Beautiful! She is so beautiful”.
You know the saying, “you might be the only bible people ever read,” well this was the first time I realized how true it really is. These kids might not be able to read the bibles we passed out to them, but they can see what Christ’s love looks like through my teams and I’s actions. Jesus never walked up to the poor, reached in his pocket to pull out a few bills and a piece of chocolate and handed it out. Nor did he walk in and say “I’m going to build you all new homes, get you new clothes and buy you starbucks.” No, Jesus sat in the dirt with children, he loved and listened to the poor and he prayed over them. As I held this little girl I prayed over her hand, I prayed over her future and prayed for her family. Later, her little hand that was once tightly pulled into a fist opened and her fingers spread out wide. She waved around her hand and bobbed her head back and forth. She was so full of joy.
Two older girls (around 13) came to me asking me what my name was. “Lyndi” I told them. “No, not Lyndi” they said. “Thara, you are Thara”. When I asked a translator what that meant, he told me the children were calling me Thara meaning bright star. I don’t know why they chose that name or why they wouldn’t call me what I told them my name was, but I bet you its because they saw light inside my team and I. We are bright because we have Christ living inside us.
The little girls hand reminded me of Matthew 6:3 when we are instructed as believers to give with one hand and not let the other know what we are doing. We give to not desire to have credit or expect anything in return. This sweet girl carried one hand behind her back and the other in front. I wanted to give to her but how do I give? She was the only child who didn’t ask for money or chocolate or anything. All she wanted was me, all of me. Just like Christ. He doesn’t want our money or our sweet actions all he wants is us. All of us.
I sat with her. I carried her. I gave her all the love I could even when I didn’t speak the same language as her. But love doesn’t need the same languag. When I went to set her down at the end of the day, she wouldn’t put her feet on the ground. She didn’t want down. She held them up for as long as she could and latched onto my arms. I pray that she will latch to Jesus like she latched to me that day. He will give her more love than I ever could. He will never let her down, He will never let go and she will never have to say a hard goodbye to Him.
