The school that we taught at on Friday was quite eye opening. We walked in and were immediately led upstairs to an open rooftop of sorts that had classrooms around it. If I’ve ever in my life felt like I was on a set for a Latino movie – this would be the day. (It also slightly reminded me of High School Musical 3 ;]).
All of the students were lined up across the rooftop and some were lined up around the stairs above us. We stood in front of all of them in a line. In some ways I felt like a rock star. In other ways all the “eyes” made me feel vulnerable and slightly uncomfortable.
The students carried on with their morning routine as we stood like spectacles in front of them. They had a moment of prayer as “encouragement” and then we headed to our classroom. (This is a public school with little to no Christian influence, despite the class we teach).
So far this month, I’ve learned a lot about the way I perceive people. Teaching provides a unique opportunity to look at a classroom differently. I remember sitting in my own high school 4 years ago, I had a different perception of every person in every one of my classes – some were judgmental, some carried hurt, and some portrayed deep and grateful friendships.
This month, God has allowed me to see these students “differently”. Friday, my eyes were opened to the reality of many of these students’ lives. In many of the schools that we teach at, students come from very poor families, or no family at all. Some of them attend school because it simply keeps them off the streets and out of trouble.
Friday, God moved in my heart in a beautiful way through a beautiful girl name Stefani. She’s 16, and has been attending the Values and Ethics class since the program opened at her school. Before we entered the classroom, our contact pointed her out and shared some of her story with me.
Stefani was sexually abused by her boyfriend for a number of years. During a previous class with a previous World Race team, this subject was brought up. Tears streamed from her eyes. An uncontrollable emotion broke out in the room. So a racer pulled her aside and asked what was going on. She poured her heart out and simply asked for help. This racer shared the gospel with her. She shared how freedom can be found in Christ. Everything that racer spoke to her, she desired, and in that moment, she committed her life to Christ.
Knowing this upon walking into class that day, my eyes were intrinsically drawn to her. I sensed a discomfort in her posture. Perhaps her mind transformed into a reel on replay at the sight of our white skin. Perhaps her mind shifted back to that day in this same classroom where her own discomfort brought her to a place of surrender. Perhaps fear elicited in her heart. Perhaps vulnerability and insecurity felt as if it was dripping from her fingertips. Despite what she was feeling or thinking, looking at her, I saw a beautiful daughter of the most high King. A girl not marked by her past but predestined for her future eternal glory. I saw a smile that radiated Jesus Christ. A heart that was not bought by some guy’s attention or lustful desires but by a Savior that died on a cross to redeem her soul. I saw a beloved, chosen, desired, sister in Christ.
My heart reached across the room to her throughout that class. I prayed over her from a distance, that she would continue to walk in the freedom she experienced that day. That she truly would know and dive deeper into a relationship with the Lord.
I wanted to talk to her and know her. I wanted her to know that she was safe and secure in the hands of our sweet Jesus. The bell rang, the students left, and everything I had processed in those simple 30 minutes walked out the door just as if she had zipped up my thoughts in her backpack.
Throughout the next class, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. As soon as the bell rang, I ran to the rooftop and waited for her to walk by. I saw her from a distance and smiled at her until she was earshot away. I told her my name, that she was beautiful, and that Jesus loves her. She looked at me as if by simply “noticing” her, the atmosphere she was walking in changed. She smiled and slowed her walk for a minute. Her eyes traced my face and muttered words that I didn’t understand fell from her mouth as she walked down the stairs and out the door to “her” world. A world that I so hope she sees through the eyes of Jesus Christ that continues to yearn for her heart.
I’m not sure how many more times I’ll see Stefani – perhaps I’ll see her this Friday. Please pray for her heart and that despite whatever may be going on in “her” world, that she still knows and feels the love of Christ. That more than myself, there are perfect eyes that see her everyday as beautiful, beloved, and chosen with a purpose.
Stefani and Me
