I woke up this morning with a heavy heart. At first I didn’t think much of it because I haven’t been sleeping well this month and I have been constantly physically, emotionally and spiritually tired. Our trek to church consists of a mile walk to bus central, hopping on a minibus with the boys, about a 20min drive, and then another 10min walk to church. Before we even waved down a minibus, one of our boys had run away. This happened last week and that is another whole story in itself. One of the only times the boys get out of the house outside of sports is for church on Sunday. There are so many opportunities for them to escape on the way to church. It is a pretty crazy commute and is not hard to get lost. Apparently, they will escape in order to consume and get a momentary high. After leaving 3 times, they are unable to come back. That is what happened with our boy last week. In this case, they took him to another facility and he is doing better now.
To be honest, I wasn’t too affected by *Juan (not his actual name) running off this morning. Over the weekend he had pierced his own ear and was really obnoxious this morning. I knew something was up and after experiencing last weeks run away, I wasn’t too surprised when we lost him. After getting to church, my heavy heart was still pulling me to the ground. I couldn’t put my finger on it. As we were singing songs in Spanish that I didn’t fully understand tears came to my eyes as I felt the presence of the Lord. Despite knowing what I was singing and not feeling like I was really praising God at all, He was there. Around me were beautiful arms and faces of Bolivians praising Jesus. I wanted to too, but my heart was so heavy. Tears streamed down my face as I poured my heart out in worship to the Lord. It was so odd. I always know what the problem is or unconfessed sin, etc. But I couldn’t put my finger on it today. As I was praying I felt like it was a burden for someone else. But who? Who was I broken for? Despite my heavy heart, I was joyful in worship. My heart began to loosen throughout the service. When we were about to leave, we realized that two more boys were missing. We were now down to 4 after starting with 7.
Since being on the World Race, I have heard so many sermons and testimonies and analogies that relate back to the prodigal son. Yet this has been the most stark for me. The mission, made up of hermanos and hermanas (we all call the workers brother and sister) open up their hearts and home to these individuals. In our case, these boys are loved, taught, fed, and given a better life. Yet they have free will and can choose to leave at any time. As I walk the streets, I can’t fathom what would draw them back to a life of misery and destruction after experiencing such love and safety. And once again, God was reminding me of that. How many times daily do I walk outside of the identity and love that God has given me by walking in defeat, discouragement or desiring human approval? Even today when I didn’t “feel” like worshipping. Those actions are all dependant on me and what I have done (or feel). Yet despite all that we have done, God invites us with open arms to share in the security, love and acceptance of His Home. I can’t say what that heaviness was in my heart but I can say that whatever that was, my Father invited me out of that mindset and into His unconditional love and acceptance, just like the doors are open to the boys even after they choose the easy and familiar.
