My whole life it seems as if I have gravitated towards the “trouble makers,” or the ones that people tend to steer clear of.
I didn’t have many friends in high school – I was really shy back then – but it seems as I knew everyone and everyone knew me. I always tried to love everybody the same and treat them equally, but it just so happened that my favorites were the ones that were constantly in trouble. They would make bad choice after bad choice, and for some reason, one that not many people can understand, it made me love them so much more.
I realized early on that a lot of them were really just misunderstood. They had bad home lives and did what had been exemplified for them, or they were damaged and, well, “hurt people, hurt people.” Most of the time, they were actually incredibly sweet, and not at all the negative things that had been spoken over them. You just had to get through the walls they had built up, which I noticed, not many people try to do.
It’s been awhile since I have had a friend like this. It’s different being out of school. You don’t have the opportunity to make new friends as often. After school, everyone goes their separate ways, life happens, and before you know it, they’re just a memory.
This month though, God has sent me a few new friends that are known for their bad behavior.
They live right next door. I play with the young children that live there daily, which has opened a door to befriend their older siblings.
There’s about 5 or 6 of them, and the very first time I hung out with them, an adult from the church told me to be careful around them because they “rob people,” which I took as a challenge.
I continued hanging out with them, and watched as every single church member walked right past them and did not acknowledge them whatsoever. They hardly even looked at them, and it really hurt my heart to watch.
Over the past week I have been hanging out with them. We don’t do much but sit on the curb and attempt to talk, which is incredibly awkward at times because of the language barrier, but I have grown to genuinely love them a lot.
In just a couple short days, I had the family that is the “black sheep” (quoted from another neighbor) of the neighborhood laughing and sharing their food with me. It really didn’t take much. I only had to give them my time and put in some effort no matter how awkward it got.
It has crossed my mind that they may be different towards me because I am not Peruvian, which is very likely, but I can’t help but wonder how different things could be if the church hadn’t given up on them.
What if Jesus gave up on us? What if He decided we have sinned too much or have gotten into too much trouble? Where would we be?
As for me, I’d continue to be the depressed, insecure, and lonely girl I was before I surrendered my life to Him. I can’t even imagine living life without Him. It would be awful!
There is an analogy in Matthew 18:10-14 about the shepherd and his herd of 100 sheep. One day he goes out and notices that one is missing. He leaves the 99 and goes out searching for the 1 that wandered away until he finds it, and when he does, he rejoices and celebrates.
This man could have easily said: “It’s only one sheep; no big deal,” but he didn’t. He cared enough to go out of his way and find it.
I really love this little story. It teaches us to focus on the lost. It teaches us that we are never “too busy.” It teaches us to make time. It teaches that it is more rewarding to reach one person for Jesus than it is to remain comfortable with 99 other believers.
This is what Jesus did, and this is what He had planned for the Church.
