It’s been the same for three months now. Three months of putting faces and personalities to the worn out phrase, “ya know, there are starving children in Africa.” I hate that phrase because it’s true—there are starving children in Africa, and now I know many of their names. Unfortunately, guilting people into eating all of the food on their plate won’t do much of anything to solve the problem.
I have spent the last few months in Botswana, South Africa, and Swaziland, all 3 months being partnered with ministries and organizations that work directly with orphaned and vulnerable children. There are a lot of great organizations that are committed to this demographic, to feeding kids and providing a safe space for them to go and play and learn a little about Jesus. I am so thankful for the many people I’ve met (often called shepherds) that have committed their lives to this—the ones that are here day in and day out, making huge pots of rice and beans over a fire, leading silly songs one second and teaching a class on grief the next.
It sounds pretty nice at first—the classic missionary assignment to go to the bush and sit amongst the red dirt and have small, laughing African children climbing all over you. It sounds nice until you arrive and, while its true that half of the kids are so thrilled to see you you think they may pee their pants like an excited puppy, the other half immediately hide around corners, cry because they’re afraid, or meet you with blank, empty stares.
So what do we do? What can we do? We show up, and we love them. Yes, in the last few months I’ve taught children how to hold a pencil and trace their name, I’ve been in skits portraying bible stories, I’ve led games and songs and lessons. But honestly? Mostly we’re there to pick up one kid after another, to be the human jungle gym, to hold the little ones that pass out sleeping after they’ve had lunch (which is often their only meal of the day.) There may be one or two shepherds for dozens and dozens of kids, and the fact of the matter is that they simply can’t hold each one for hours on end. That’s where we come in.
At first, I felt useless. What would I have to show for this? Did people really donate money to me so I could play with cute kids all day? What would they think? I felt similar to how I felt in high school when I was given inane worksheets in classes like “Senior Foods.” This was pointless, and wasn’t helping anything.
Then I started seeing the transformation. The same little boy who cried his eyes out whenever we looked at him was now begging us for high fives and climbing into our laps. I think of little Lame (pronounced Lah-may) in Botswana, who quickly became our favorite. On our last day, the head teacher of the preschool told us that before we came, she was practically mute—she never smiled or talked or played on the playground. Now she was the “Mother Hen” to all the other kids and bursting with personality and joy. I was in shock. And it wasn’t just her—over and over again, I saw children change before my eyes.
These kids have been forced to grow up too fast. They have been abandoned and abused. Left behind. Sick. Forgotten. How could they know what to do with a bunch of people who show up with open arms, when they’ve never been given open arms to step into? They’re starved—and I’m not just talking about food. They long for love. They need it. We all do (Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, anyone?).
After a few days, when they finally realize that what we have to give is pure love, they soak it in and, like a field of golden sunflowers, grow taller and lean into the love like light. Little by little, they turn their whole selves skyward and stretch toward the Source of warmth and joy and life. They can’t get enough. Author Bob Goff says it best: “People grow where they’re loved.” They are radiant.
Children that started as hollow, mere shells of souls have transformed into vibrant, lively kids—and through what? Simply drinking in the love they deserve. The love of the people around them and, most importantly, the love of their Heavenly Father. We love because He first loved us.
These last few months have given me the greatest picture of God and who we are as His children. We were orphans, the same as these little ones in Africa—lost, afraid, trying to do things on our own, not knowing what true love is or how to receive it. And then, he adopted us as his sons and daughters (Romans 8:15). I can say with absolute confidence that I have personally been transformed by knowing the unconditional love of a good, good God, sinking my own roots deeper into Truth, growing taller and brighter.
To love and be loved in return is a gift that we far too often take for granted. Love changes things. Love transforms. Love is the key. Say a prayer today that all of these children around the world without an earthly family would know just how much they’re loved by their Creator, and that they are already adopted into His family.
“Three things will last forever—faith, hope, and love—and the greatest of these is love.” 1 Corinthians 13:13
