I don’t understand the love of God.
I thought I knew it, but I think I’ve only just tasted it. I think I’m on the shore, I still need to get in the water.
I got to be a part of a conversation that I think I’ll remember for a long time.
Our contact Tony takes in street kids. It’s Isaiah 53 in the flesh. He brings the homeless poor into his house, he clothes them, shares his food with them, fathers them. No one asked him to do this, he’s not part of an existing program or ministry. The love of God is in him, and so he goes out and brings the outcasts into his home, and loves them like their his own sons. I don’t understand it.
These kids have a rough story, using thinner to escape the pain of their existence, no fathers in the picture, moms that can’t care for them because they can’t really even care for themselves. They come from one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in Tegucigalpa. From generations of abuse, neglect, drugs, violence and hopelessness. They’re punks, kicked out of churches, school, no one wants them around.
A couple of months ago one of the boys Tony has had a relationship with for years decided he finally wanted to change. So, he left his spot behind the garbage dumps, his job of getting high, everything he knew, to come and live with Tony and his wife on the farm. He’s in the process of completing two grades a year in school to catch up, he’s 14 and learning to take care of himself for the first time. Learning to brush his teeth, pick up after himself, wash his plate after dinner, the things our parents teach us when we’re kids. He loves to play with cars, it’s hilarious for a minute to see this 14 year old boy go nuts over little toy cars, but then I remember that he hasn’t really had much of a childhood and now is a good a time as any to catch up on all that he’s missed.
So this boy living with Tony got caught in a lie and a participant into the situation to cover his tracks. That’s how I wound up sitting in on the conversation. Tony and his wife sat him down for about an hour until the truth came out. They cried. His sin hurt their hearts. It baffled me. Tony kept saying, lets move forward from this, you made a mistake, you confessed it, lets move forward. They decided to leave it at the table, not to bring it up again because it’s in the past, confessed, done. So this 14 year old kid, just a punk on the streets a few months ago, getting high behind a garbage dumps, sits across the table from Tony crying, saying he’s sorry, he wants to stay, he loves them, he wants to try again.
It reminds me of when Jesus talks to Peter after He raised from the dead, He says, Do you love me? Of all of the things He could have said to him, he said, Do you love me? Over and over and over. He doesn’t see Peter as someone who betrayed him, as a failure, but as a friend who fell, who lost his courage for a moment, but will grow and change into a son more righteous than before, who will get back up again, who will lead His Bride.
I’ve struggled with condemnation, being super hard on myself, and in turn hard on others. I see the love of God in how Tony handled this boys sin. His heart was to restore, to forgive, to move forward. He’s on his side, always.
I have a Father who is always on my side. Even that sentence sounds trite, not big enough to capture the depth of what it means to have Someone on my side no matter what I do. But there He is, fighting for me, telling me to keep on, to get up. I don’t think I’ll ever understand His love, but I’m thankful I get to spend my life searching out His heart. I’m thankful that Jesus tore the veil, that I’m a daughter. It’s ridiculous.
