I walked a quarter of a mile to the local village well to fetch the day’s water supply. I looked up as I crouched over the spigot and saw the shepherd boy approaching. I’ll be raw and let you into the ugly of my heart: when I saw him my first instinct was, “oh no.”
I immediately became frustrated with myself. Why was that my reaction? Why would I see an 11-year-old African boy and dread an encounter with him at the well? Was it because every time I saw him he asked for water/food/money? Was it because all I could do was give him some water and snacks that would temporarily satisfy his thirst and hunger? Or because every time I saw him I wrestled with God about why he was given this childhood while my childhood was drastically different? Probably a combination of all of these.
Right on que, he walked up to me and asked for my watch. When I told him no, he asked for my bracelet. Then he started pulling at my earrings saying, “give me, give me.” I wasn’t surprised – he’d done this before. But this time I felt backed into a corner. Not a physical corner, but a corner of my heart that I try to stay far away from. Apathy. How can I have compassion for this child who is demanding that I give him all of my things? How can I combat this frustration that’s rooted in my helplessness towards his undeserved circumstances? How can I show him the love of Jesus when I deny him what he wants?
As these thoughts were swimming around my mind, the water bucket began to overflow, so I removed it from the spout and began to carry it up the hill. The boy chased after me and took the bucket from my arms and carried it up the hill for me. When we got to the top of the hill, I thanked him and gave him a high five, to which he began demanding my watch again. I knew what he was doing – this time, he believed that he earned it.
Just then, some more young children came running up to fill up their bottles. I observed the way they all laughed and played together, and I quickly noticed the shepherd boy pushing the other kids around. Although I don’t speak the language, I understood what was happening by their body language – they were afraid of the shepherd boy. He was hurting them with his words and actions.
I was at a total loss for how to love this boy well, so I did the only thing that I could possibly think of. I prayed. I asked God for eyes to see this child the way that He sees him, and I asked God to give me a heart to love this boy the way He does. And that’s when it hit me…
I am the shepherd boy.
This truth hit me like a sack of bricks. God instantly revealed that this boy’s heart posture looks a lot like mine. How many times have I greedily demanded gifts from God? Countless times. How often have I tried to earn God’s love, to earn His gifts? How many times have I carried the bucket up the hill in hopes that He’d love me more? Countless times. How many times over the years have I neglected to love my brothers and sisters well? How often have I used my words to hurt those around me? Again, countless times.
I am the shepherd boy.
And you know what God revealed to me in that moment? His perfect love. I’ve fallen short so many times. But when He looks upon me, He sees Christ. He loves me in a way I don’t deserve, in a way I will never deserve. And just as His love for me defies logic, His love for the little shepherd boy defies logic. And that’s the love that He’s calling me to pour out.
I looked upon the shepherd boy and I saw him covered in Christ’s perfect love. I saw his brokenness mended back together. I saw his greedy spirit covered by Christ’s generosity. I saw Jesus’ hands holding the bucket that he carried up the hill – there’s nothing to earn. I saw Jesus’ kindness smeared over the unkind words that were spoken. That’s how God sees the shepherd boy. That’s how God sees me. And that’s how He sees you.
Thank you, Jesus.
