“Waves of mercy, waves of grace, everywhere I look I see your face.”
It was a hit.
Sometimes when we sing songs that require kids to sing the words back to us or do dance moves and hand motions, we get blank stares and have to re-plan our time with them on the fly. But this time, Waves of Mercy was a hit.
Our afternoon at the slum wasn’t long. Even in that short time, though, around fifteen kids showed up and we had a loose plan of doing a skit about Noah’s ark (my teammate Brittany does a great elephant sound that is ALWAYS a crowd pleaser), singing a couple songs, and playing a game similar to hot-potato if time allowed. We started off singing Waves of Mercy and encouraged the kids to stand up and dance with us. The blank stares didn’t last long and as I looked around in the group of kids, I saw a little girl in a yellow sweater doing her best to keep up with the hand motions. I didn’t know what it was about her, but her sweet face and soft smile captured me immediately. So I went and danced just with her and while we were swaying our arms in the air like waves on the ocean, I wondered how many people look her in the eye and spend time just with her.
Whoa, isn’t that what the Lord wants to do with us? That just hit me while I was writing this.
We carried on with our silly songs – O Le Le Tiki Tonga was also a hit – and the Noah’s Ark skit went swimmingly too. “We have about five minutes left” is what our friend and translator Seema told us, so we went back to what got the best reaction so far.
I went to find the sweet girl in the yellow sweater and in broken Nepali asked her what her name was. She whispered “Deruna” and started dancing as we started singing. I focused all of my attention on her. I thought to myself “If I can’t speak her language and I have five minutes left with her today, this is the only way I can think of to show her the Lord’s love, right here and now.” I tried to show her that she mattered by showing her each hand motion. I tried to show her that she is loved by dancing with her as I squatted down on her level. She became even more beautiful as I looked directly at her.
As we sang the line “everywhere I look I see your face” I looked into the face of this sweet child of God. I looked at the faces of the other kids in the room. How can I tell them who they resemble? How can I tell them that they were made in the image of their Creator? How can I tell them that they have a God and Father who loves them endlessly, looks like them, talks like them, and wants to have a relationship with them?
I may never know if Deruna felt the things I wanted her to feel in those short moments. I may never get to tell that group of kids how much the Lord loves them. But when I walked out of their neighborhood, a slum, I felt like I had seen Jesus in their faces. They were free for a short time from being “street kids” or “those kids in the slum” and were dancing and laughing in that freedom.
The Lord’s presence was there before we got to that slum and will be there long after we leave Nepal. My prayer for those sweet kids – my prayer for Deruna – is that they get to step into that light every day. That they will one day clothe themselves in that freedom.
To the outsider looking in, these kids were literally dancing and laughing in a dark room under the light of one small lightbulb. But without even knowing it they were actually dancing in the presence of a light so bright that the darkness cannot comprehend it.
I snagged this photo from a video Sam took while we danced with the kids. He warned me that it would probably be too dark to post. He was right, and this picture looks blurry and crummy because I tried to lighten it as much as possible. But I felt like I should share it. Tonight I was reminded of a profound truth that we must hold onto for dear life sometimes; just because the picture isn’t bright enough doesn’t mean the story shouldn’t be shared.
Just because one light bulb might not seem bright enough doesn’t mean it should be turned off.
