I’m back in Siem Reap visiting a team working with Eli Int. School. Yesterday we had some free time and some of us decided to find a place in town to worship, paint, hangout. We jumped out of the tuktuk’s and stared at each other. Waiting for someone to make a move in any direction. World racers have this innate ability to become the most indecisive functioning humans. But thankfully surfacing from group mentality, one of the girls suggested we go to the bridge.
A month ago, during all squad evangelism, that bridge, grew a reputation for the Lords’ presence. The Holy Spirit moved every time anyone met anyone on that bridge.
So we went. With literally no expectation. We just wanted to hangout and worship. At least that was my idea of a restful afternoon.
It obviously didn’t take long- with a ukulele, a speaker, and paint, for us to draw the attention of the local street kids.We offered them some of our journals and pens to join us. One of the boys was the son of the mom who sat begging on the bridge. He drew me this nice portrait.
My heart was delighting in this simple afternoon. We, almost effortlessly, become the hands and feet of Jesus embracing these kids with our time and attention. Joy filled my spirit to watch Kyndal sit with the begging mother, to see Cara braid the same girls for the 3rd time, and Madison so graciously let the nuggets destroy her paint set as they sat with her.
Then 3 more boys who I had previously eyed hanging around a tree past the bridge, finally gave into curiosity..and wandered over. One of them made himself comfortable on my lap immediately. The only English word He knew was hallelujah and must have said it 2 or 3 times. I don’t know if he knew what He was saying, but I did. Hallelujah happens to be one of my favorite words in scripture. It’s a sound of praise to the Lord. And it’s understood the same in every language. There’s power in that.
I didn’t hear him say it again, after His initial approach of us. But it didn’t matter, because God had spoken to me and I heard Him.
This boy had my attention and so did God. Suddenly I looked around, at all the street kids that had flocked to us. I looked over at the tree where there were still 6 boys…all dirty….all sniffing glue drenched rags. My heart didn’t just sink, it felt completely crushed under the weight of God’s grief for these little boys.
Tears welt up in my eyes. I was filled with such frustration towards the brokenness of the world. And that it breaks little people, who can’t do anything to stop it. They’re defenseless.
I was caught up in wave after wave of helplessness. Everything in me wanted to do something..anything. But the fact was in that moment, all I could do was hold them. Show them they are so worthy of being talked to, being seen, being touched. I have to believe that even in those brief minutes, the Fathers’ love made a difference in their little lives.
Because I know the truth, I know that the Father is making all things new. He is redeeming and restoring this world. Every hurt He will heal and every injustice He will make right.
Humanity’s desperation for a savior…gosh I was made so painfully aware of it. I know there is hope, I know the cross was the finished work of Jesus Christ..
What joy and peace we can take in that truth. I praise God for it. But, let me tell you, that knowledge didn’t ease the immediate pain of what is the current reality (as I held the little 14 year old boy who clung to the glue rag with one hand and me with the other). . .
Jesus has not yet returned.
War still rages on this earth. In the physical and the spiritual.
And there is such a need for greater urgency in loving people. Not just with feelings but with the hands and feet of Jesus. With power and authority that will change the circumstances of the suffering.
As the evening came and it was time to go back to the house where we have beds and dinner waiting for us on the table..I cringed. How could I just leave. What was going to happen to them, did they actually live on the streets ? Or do they have some sort of home to go back to? Does it matter, they are still high as kites on the street right now. Do I trust God to care for them was the bigger question.
They repeatedly tried to steal kisses on our cheeks everytime they went in for hugs. Dodging them, I tried to keep some boundaries and settle for the hugs. My efforts we’re only a little defeated. But as they were, the Father whispered to my heart
“In the way you can’t escape their kisses , they can’t escape my grace.”
They have never and will never be outside of He’s sight, He’s reach, or His grace.
None of us are. Niether is this world.
As dirty, sinful, broken, hurting as it is.
God’s hand is on it, His spirit is in it, and one day Jesus’ return will be the new reality.
Until that day, I’ll praise Him with every hallelujah and I’ll continue to pray for it to be on earth as it it is heaven.
…I wrote this blog, with a still hurting heart, but in hopes that you would be encouraged that hope isn’t far away. It’s within us and we have the power to give it away…I pray we do just that…to whomever God places before us today.
