Tonight my heart breaks.
On the metro ride home there were four young men that got on the metro. They were loud, rude, and jumping around yelling at passengers and making crude gestures. They were two sets of brothers. The older brothers maybe 13-15 and the younger brothers around 10 years old. As the older brothers continued their rampage of disturbance on the train I turned my head to see what was going on. It took me awhile to figure out what was going on. I was disgusted, frustrated, and hurt all at the same time. The words of Jack whom we had just spent time with flooded my mind. The fruit is you.
I turned and smiled at one of the younger brothers, he crossed the train and sat behind me in the chair sitting back to back to mine. I turned tapped him on the shoulder and gave him a high five. I felt a surge of protection issuing out of me wanting nothing more than to care for him and wrap my arms over him. To guide him and be his older brother to show him a way not filled with bitterness and aggression. As the older brothers continued causing a ruckus, again I felt the words rise inside. Go to them when no one else will.
At the next stop, I got up and went to sit by the boys. As I approached, the older brother who I went to sit next to flinched backwards and fell back into his seat. He threw up his arm in defense with terror in his eyes as if I were coming on him with wrath. Instead, I reach out my hand, sat by his side, and gave him a high five. I reached out to the boy across the aisle as well and his younger brother that sat by his side. The boy that had come and sat by me now crossed back over and sat next to me. I put my arm over his shoulders and talked with them. They would jump up with excitement and begin to yell and be rude again and I would touch one of them and ask them a question beckoning them to sit. They sat. These boys are from Morocco. They live here in Paris with their families. As I asked more questions they explained they drank too much, they smoked to much, they were crazy in the head because of it. The more high-spirited boy began to make a downward slashing motion with a chopping motion into an open palm symbolizing and telling me the other boys Father was aggressive and angry towards him.
My heart breaks. These are my lost boys. These are the young men that my heart cries out for. One of my dreams is to live in an orphanage among these kids some day. I pray that they would see the love of the Father and that someone would step into the gaping and broken hole in their lives. As I sat in the metro hearing these young men stir up trouble behind me I felt only one thing. Just get up and go.
It’s really that simple. Go and show them Jesus. Be Jesus. Be fruitful. Show them who He is through your actions and love. God has worked in amazing ways over these days in Paris so far. I can’t help but marvel this journey I’m on has really been so simple. Just get up and go. Go to Paris. Go talk to the Refugees. Go be with them. Go sit with them. Go talk with them. And in doing so, be Jesus to them. Let his light shine through you with compassion, peace, and patience. Respond with mercy, forgiveness, and kindness. Show them hope, joy, and love. Through your fruit they will see who I AM.
With Faith, Hope, and Love
Nathan
