.The Least of These.

[repost from after my first trip to Ethiopia, Africa in 2011.]


I did not know my eyes could see that way. They burned and throbbed in the seeing for real. I blinked hard at the pain of having the scales fall away and the view that was before me. My mind swirled with the statistics. Statistics that I have been clinging to for nine months, statistics propelling me forward inching me closer and closer to Ethiopia. Flesh and blood and hallow eyes, and empty hands reaching through the van windows desperate for food. They both destroyed and gave life to all of the numbers bouncing in my head.

When did we in America - when did I replace living, breathing children, and people with numbers? Or did we never replace them, were they always figures to us? Is that how we manage to wash our dishes, kiss our children's foreheads, drive to the grocery store without a thought for the least of these? It must be what I did.

It took ten days of having my heart trampled and bruised from witnessing things that keep me up at night and unable to know when and how to tell others what I saw with my new eyes. It took ten days of finally understanding the least of these, and knowing that they are the most valuable in the eyes of the One who gave His life for them. It took ten days of agony as my eyes were pried open to the horror and the beauty mingled in human form not arbitrary numbers.

And now, now I am wondering how to be here. How do I tidy and pretty my home when I now know that I saw children living in trash heaps, surviving on sidewalks parallel dirty, busy roads? How do I tuck my children into bed at night remembering the beautiful faces of the children in the orphanages who sleep two to a bed, bunked in a tiny, cold room - locked in until morning. There is no Dad , no Mom to tuck them in, not even an adult in the room to calm a nightmare. They were just numbers to me before I met them, and now I lay down at night on my pillow and I hear their cries of terror, their pleas for love and something so simple as family. I remember their hurts.

What am I doing here? What am I doing for the least of these?

I remember the little boy in the denim jacket. The way he looked at me as I handed him some treats from my bag. His smile warming me as he clutched the treasures. Those eyes locked mine, and through the language barrier, I knew what they begged.

Are you the one I have been waiting for? Are you the one to end this nightmare and make me a son once again?

And now I live with the knowing that I am not the one - at least not for him. I was chosen for other boys. But the images of he and his friends are sewn into my heart, my mind. I won't forget what I saw, what I know. I promised them that I would tell others, that I would advocate for them. I don't know how though. I fall short. I cannot let these little souls be lost in the overwhelming numbers, and yet I am not the One who opens the eyes and softens the heart.

Perhaps that is one of the hardest lessons I have yet to learn - figuring out what to do with the knowing.

Because one day I will stand before Jesus....

I doubt He will ask me how many times I dusted my home, or if my children were dressed in GAP, or even did I homeschool?

He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left. “Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’ “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’ “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ Matthew 25:33-40


No, I can't save the world, but I can clothe, feed, and give a home to some and tell them of the One who came to save the world. Because when I looked statistics in the eye, all of my excuses escaped.

.Disgusted.

I received an email on Monday:

There is an orphanage in Haiti that is involved in human trafficking, organ harvesting, starvation and abuse of the children it houses. Children's Hope Chest is trying to get it shut down. They need signatures for a petition to CNN to expose the atrocities going on in the orphanage because they just learned that the government officials they were working with are part of the corruption. So far there are 40 children that are missing and 75 more that are at risk. Your blog is influential on the behalf of orphans. Please help CHC get the word out.

I spent some time praying over whether this was something God was having me advocate for, and whether or not it is legitimate. I have researched and researched, and I am disgusted to say that I believe this is true. Children in Haiti, like yours, like mine, are basically being stolen, they are being starved, are abused in horrific ways, and then on top of that their little organs are being harvested and sold for a profit. This world is disgusting. The name of the orphanage? "The Son of God Orphanage". If that doesn't make my blood boil....

We, as believers, can do something. We are told, in the Bible, to speak up for those who have no voice, to fight for the rights of widows and orphans - the poor, the needy. (Proverbs 31:8, Isaiah 1:17) I believe, because I am a follower of Jesus, if I know about this and choose to turn my head, than I am just as corrupt as those people working in that orphanage. The only choice I can make is to share what I have learned, do my part, and get on my knees on behalf of these precious children.

And there is something tangible that we can all do. There is a petition being signed that will be presented to CNN, in order to ask them to cover the story, so that this orphanage can be shut down. All I am asking is that you go here and read, and if you feel so led, please sign.

Then pray for these children, for their families, for the corrupt men and women involved - they need Jesus and His gospel - that is the only real solution. And if the Spirit lays it on your heart, please share this on your blog, on facebook, tweet it, tell your family and your friends. Tom Davis, author of Fields of the Fatherless, created this petition. He is looking for 10,000 signatures and has a little over 8,000 now.

A note from Children's HopeChest's Chief Operating Officer, Bob Mudd: "I have been intimately involved with the efforts to support this orphanage and while we do not approach our efforts in this manner typically, we are simply out of options. The claims in the note are well vetted and supported with evidence and is only the tip of the iceberg. If additional questions or if you have contacts in major media or government that can be helpful, call me on cell at 719-440-7917."

These children were created in the image of God. They are no different than my children, except they have no advocate.

(source)

Will you be their advocate?

Wouldn't you want at least that for your children?


Seek justice. Help the oppressed. Defend the cause of orphans. Fight for the rights of widows. Isaiah 1: 17b

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.I Refuse To Forget.

As the spinning that has been my world for the past year begins to slow and a new rhythm rises in our home, I am refusing to forget.

There are memories that are burned into my mind and bruised into my heart, and sometimes I still do not know how to cope with them. God wanted me to know and to see, but what do I do with that knowing?

I have these photographs and these mental images that totally take the breath out of me. I am exhausted of living in an American church culture that mostly ignores Micah 6:8. The silence from our pews and from from our pulpits is deafening when contrasted with the truth.

Maybe we, the ones who have been called to be the hands and feet of Jesus - Christians, are gagged and silenced by fear. Maybe we do not think much about what the gospel demands when it comes to orphans, and to the poor, to injustice because it is scary if we allow oursleves to really know.

But hasn't our fear been crucified with Christ? It seems to me that as followers of Jesus Christ we should be filling this gap.

The very essence of the gospel is Jesus loving us enough to bleed and die for us. It was worth it to him to sacrifice Himself - He held nothing back - in order to completely erase our title of orphan and make us His family.

Is it worth it to me?

Then why do I keep holding on to the things - the temporal - the insignificant?

And why am I holding back?

Does the gospel really demand something from me besides comfortable, North American christianity?

I refuse to forget, and I pray that one day the knowing will penetrate the depths of my heart and turn into doing.


"Our love of comfort & pursuit of American dream is what kills. It's not starvation & lack of clean water."-Kimberly Smith #summit7

Surely he took up our pain and bore our suffering (Isaiah 53:4a).

What is my response to His example?
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