One of my favourite podcasts is by Pastor Mark Driscoll, talking about Jesus welcoming the children to sit with Him and on His knee.
Driscoll points out that Jesus didn't only welcome the clean and tidy, quiet, well behaved children, He welcomed all children. Even the ones with boogers and muddy hands. He hypothesises that the disciples may have been in the background saying "oh man that kid wiped his nose on the master's robe"...
And “that one grabbed his hair with her hands; I wonder where they’ve been .."
And Jesus loved it.
He said "do not turn them away from me"
Having this morning finished a stint on a mercy trip, visiting orphans and displaced kids, I want to share about my team mates who exemplified this same love and compassion to children.
We sing and say we want to be the hands and feet of Jesus, we say we want to do His will. Over this last few weeks, I have seen this in action. Every person on mercy team takes on becoming the hands and feet. Every person on our team contributed in the ways described below, sometimes reducing me to quiet tears through their humility, strength and focus on just breathing Jesus into every moment, everything they did.
They became, every moment every day, an empty vessel to be used by God. Every word thought and action was God driven.
Hands became the hands of Jesus.
Cupping the chin of a Down's syndrome child who wanted to make eye contact, wiping snotty noses, patting the back of a fretting child in the orphanage as they paced up and down to calm him, stroking the back of a blind child who cried in frustration as she rolled on the mats listening to the others play.
Wiping the saliva from a disabled young man's mouth, covering this young man’s head with their own hands just to make physical contact, holding the crooked hands within their own and using the gentle pressure of a hand on a shoulder for reassurance. Getting that same young man involved ingroup games, pushing him in his wheelchair to enable him to participate fully.
Rolling a ball backwards and forwards over and over and over because that's what the child wanted to do, feeding a child mushed food from a spoon, trying and trying everything to encourage a chewing reflex as this past one year old child has only ever been bottle fed semi solid food through a cut teat on a bottle.
Stroking a child's forehead, smoothing her hair, washing her hands and face for maybe the first time in a few days.
Holding the hands of abandoned and neglected babies playing pat-a-cake, rowing the boat down the stream, twinkling the stars and just clapping for the joy of it.
Taking a child off a tired carer so she could have a breather, seeing their needs were met as much as the children's.
Throwing a child over their shoulder or in the air just so they could both hear their peals of laughter.
Pushing wheelchairs, holding walkers for little cerebral palsy children to take slow steps, holding crayons in twisted fingers to help someone draw a rainbow.
Giving a kazillion hugs and high fives, thumbs up or pats on the back.
Blowing bubbles, blowing raspberries, blowing kisses.
Folding little hands for prayer and grace, and folding their own hands time after time as they prayed for more strength and guidance, their hands became the hands of Jesus.
Feet became the feet of Jesus.
Kicking a soccer ball. Running with a disabled child in arms so that child could also kick a soccer ball.
Slowly and patiently, painstakingly walking alongside or in front of a non walker to encourage their nervous steps.
Walking the floors with crying children, fetching and carrying whatever was needed for them.
Walking the streets of the poor, with a hello here and there, a nod of the head, an acknowledgement, anything to make contact.
Running on the basketball court, following the child who may need help, stepping the kids though games we know well but which are unfamiliar to them.
Walking from desk to desk in the classroom to make sure they speak to and engage each child individually.
Kneeling to speak to a child, to help with a craft, to slip a shoe back on, or to comfort.
On the dirt, the cement, the orphanage floor or the village street, they walked as the feet of Jesus.
Eyes became the eyes of Jesus.
Eyes which crinkle in delight, open in surprise and play, and mist over in frustration and hurt.
The split second glint that meant a heart broke again, and seeing the eyes closed in prayer for a child, a baby, a carer or a team member.
Their eyes saw what needed doing. While others took photos or talked during a break, some found the child with the grotty face and washed it.
Seeing the tiredness on the face of the nurse and smiling encouragement using their eyes to conveya message as well.
These eyes never once looked upon any child with pity. They saw their crooked backs, their puffy eyes, their twisted fingers, their non-working parts, the hurt fear and anguish in their eyes and faces and all they reflected back was love. Pure and simple love.
They saw the sadness; the changing room where jumpers, pants and shoes are set in piles and each child gets whatever is on top of the pile regardless of how well it fits, what colour it is or if it matches.
They saw the joy. Of children filled to the brim with excitement and happiness just at being alive.
They saw the rows of cots, each holding a little person, and saw the beauty, joy and dignity of every child in the room.
They saw the faces of these left behinds and, knowing they may never find a home of their own gave their all so they would know love, even if only for a short time.
They gazed into the eyes of these precious children and communicated so much just through looking.
Some maintained strength by reading the Psalms. Eyes scanning greedily for the words needed to recoup energy, they became the eyes of Jesus.
Voices became the voice of Jesus.
Words of encouragement, of humour, of joy. For all they met.
Prayers for each child held, seen and met, though often silent.
For each carer, each street vendor and each person they had either the local dialect or their own in hello.
Prayers and praises to God for the small and big things, prayers of anguish for the hard things.
Words of incomprehension at a world that turns its back, yet of mercy for a mother who abandoned her child.
A simple smile or word of encouragement that could give another team member the confidence to go on.
Quietly singing to the children of nursery rhymes, plus songs about how much God loves them.
Their never ceasing prayers over each little person for protection, for them to find God and for their future.
Lips often moving in unheard supplication, the voice, even silent, became the voice of Jesus.
These people aren’t superheroes, nor super religious dudes, just average people, and they'll probably be embarrassed by this post, but these people come with a heart for God's children wherever they are, especially those who may never come to hear of Him to make a choice about their own fate and faith.
Their heart is the heart of Jesus. They see every person through the love they themselves know of, one you can't buy or earn, love that doesn't have bad days or moods, a heart that just loves.
And I loved seeing this love being poured so freely to those who don't know to ask, by some who care enough to tell.
"So let us learn how to serve and in our lives enthrone him
Each others needs to prefer for it is Christ we're serving "
The Servant King
Graham Kendrick
"So let us learn how to serve and in our lives enthrone him
Each others needs to prefer for it is Christ we're serving "
The Servant King
Graham Kendrick
