My whole squad is in Albania this month working with a ministry called LightForce (I’ll post a blog on that soon!) but I’m still processing some stuff from last month. If you read my other blogs you know that when we were in Bulgaria our main ministry was working behind the scenes at the Mission Possible center. We had enough free time to seek out other opportunities in the town, which led to us befriending the kids who played soccer, rode bikes, and just wandered around the center of town each day. Most of the kids were between 8 and 12 years old but the youngest one, 4 year old Racho, taught me one of my most valuable lessons.
Now, you have to understand that as a preschool teacher by trade I was thrilled when little Racho came bounding into our yard. I’d been missing my class back home and could tell by the look of him that he was right in my range of specialty. I couldn’t wait to befriend him.
Easier said than done. Racho was not interested in being loved by me. At first I figured he was shy and would warm up to me slowly but pretty quickly I learned that Racho is a different breed of preschooler.
At only 4 years old he is allowed to play in the center of town while his mom works in the magazina. He would scamper over there from time to time to get candy and bottles of Coke. All of his baby teeth were rotted out and he didn’t flash his gummy smile for just anyone. When I tried to get close to him I was met with him whining and yelling and even flipping me off. At best he held me at arms length… when he wasn’t literally running from me. He would not be loved on anyone’s terms but his own, and it seemed that he serious doubted that my love was even something he wanted anything to do with. He was busy playing with the older neighborhood boys, trying to keep up with them, learn their tricks, maybe prove himself. He had candy, a soccer ball, and a bottle of Coke. He didn’t need me.
I tried not to let it discourage me. I was patient and by the end of the month I had made some progress. Racho bonded with different members of the team and even let me hug him during our last week. I joked with the others about it, crying out “Why won’t you let me love you?!”
It was just funny until it hit me that God could ask me the same question. He comes after us, arms full of perfect love that He just wants to pour out on us but we hold him at arms length, or worse, turn and run the other way. We say “We’re not interested,” either explicitly in word or by implication through our actions. We distract ourselves with other people and pleasures and things. Maybe we’re willing to come hang out in the yard, associate ourselves with Jesus, but the whole time we’re there in His presence are we really letting Him love us?
For me it means stopping and really taking some time. I would have loved to see Racho freeze in the middle of a soccer game, come find me, and just sit with me. All I wanted was to play and laugh with him the way I do with kids from home. I would have been happy to give him a piggyback ride, have a tickle fight, or even just bounce a ball. I was willing to give him my undivided attention and do whatever he wanted but he never really took advantage of the opportunity. Aren’t we the same way? I see so much of Racho in myself when I can’t take time out if my busy day to just be with God. Reading the Bible, praying, worshipping. And it’s still a problem when I come to that place but never really accept His love for me. I spend all my time feeling guilty and apologizing, or worrying and asking for help. When was the last time that you just came to God and let Him love you? Just sit quietly with Him and enjoy yourself. I really believe that’s His heart for each of us. Clear your schedule, get by yourself, shut the door. For me, honest prayer makes me feel closer to Jesus than anything. Spending time reading and meditating on scripture is huge as well but nothing draws me to Him like pouring my heart out- fears, doubts, requests, thanksgivings, praises, questions, angry accusations and pouty demands. He is big enough to handle it all, with grace and love, like the perfect Father He is, and I can’t describe how good it is to meet Him there in that place.
Don’t be a Bulgarian street rat, (no offense Racho, I love you!) let your Dad love you.
