(A Filipino taking a photo wih my team as we dance.)
“What’s your name?” “Where are you from?” “How old are you?” “Do you have a boyfriend?” “You are beautiful.”
I came to the Philippines to serve, to become the lowest in order for me to reflect Jesus and his love. Instead, everywhere I go I am showered with attention and gifts and compliments.
Not a day goes by that a stranger doesn’t wave and smile at me. I’ve been asked for my picture, my Facebook name, my signature. Kids have vied over sitting near me or holding my hand. Children have proudly presented me with notes, flowers, candy, and bracelets. Yesterday “Ate Bridget!” was called across a park by a student asking if I remembered them.
(Children fascinated by my pink feet.)
I struggle with the reality of the popularity caused by my white skin and American status.
Am I actually serving at all? Where is my sacrifice? How can this be ministry if I am engulfed by a cloud of warm fuzzy feel good attention when I leave the house?
And they were bringing children to him that he might touch them, and the disciples rebuked them. But when Jesus saw it, he was indignant and said to them, ”Let the children come to me; do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God. Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.“ And he took them in his arms and blessed them, laying his hands on them.
~Mark 10:13-16
Maybe bringing fun and happiness to children is service. Maybe teaching simple songs about the strength, the love, and the trustworthiness of our God is service. Maybe, somehow, my King is bringing the children to him that he might touch them and bless them whenever I take them in my arms and lay my hands on them.
