Our awesome friends are all about orphans. And what’s cool about them is that their passion is contagious. Anyway, I had the opportunity to go to Rwanda and Ethiopia on a team that Tymm led last December/January. It was an awesome experience. I mean incredible. I think I lack the words to adequately describe it, actually. Anyway.
About half of my team is going back. (To Kenya/Uganda this time.)
I have to say, I wasn’t going back. My mind was made up and it was so. I had come up with a long list of reasons NOT to go back. My reasons were all logical and my team members were like, yeah that makes sense. I was NOT going back.
Until God called me out.
The biggest and really only reason I wasn’t going back? Because I still cry when I think of the little room of two-year olds in Rwanda. I couldn’t go back. I just couldn’t experience that again. It was selfish and I get that. I wasn’t going, nonetheless. My heart can’t contain the emotions I felt in that room.
Still, God worked on my heart over a few days. He spoke through people and through His word. And then He reminded me, He only gave me a taste of what He feels for the fatherless all the time.
Because we don’t go. We sit in our pews and think intellectually about the orphan. We thank God for caring for them. We make the minimal sacrifices to take care of them and consider ourselves to be exempted from actually going to them. But for God to be the father to the fatherless, He needs us to go. He needs our heart to be broken for them in a thousand ways.
So I’m going back. I’m terrified of having another “moment” with God. But I’m going because if I don’t go, if you don’t go, if no one goes, those kids don’t see God as their father.