It breaks their creators heart, and it should break ours. The truth is, is didn’t break mine. Not until I came here and saw the tears of children who know Jesus. They wept for their parents’ souls. I was blinded too. I was in my own little world that heard, on occassion, about these people that serve false gods… these “lost” people that were half a world away from me. But when those people that were so distant, because people that I see… people that I know… when I allow myself to open my eyes to the truth: that their reality is eternity apart from the Father. That’s when I become a light. That’s when I begin to fight… to intercede for these souls that don’t yet know what they were created for.
We celebrated Easter (a little late) with some of our new Cambodian friends. Emily and I noticed a young girl weaping as she worshiped. After the service, we grabbed a translator and began to talk with her. After asking her how we could pray for her, we find out she is crying because her parents don’t know Jesus. She is crying because she has the incredible gift of Christ, but her family doesn’t. When is the last time you wept for the lives of the dead? When is the last time you pleaded with the Lord to reveal himself to those that do not yet know him? Until this month, I wasn’t too proud of my answer to those questions.
…But the people of this land…
…became more than these precious faces…
