Be Their Father

God is for the orphan child.

Recently many of the children we serve went back to their communities of origin for two weeks – this long Easter break is called Semana Santa (Holy Week).  I’m still pretty new to orphan-care ministry, so every time goodbyes are said and the children we serve return to hard places for these required breaks, my faith is tested.

My faith is tested because my heart aches for God to intervene NOW, to relieve suffering NOW, to make everything good NOW.  There’s still a little girl inside me who wants to see “Happily Ever After” with a flourish and a sparkle at the end of every story – and wants God to expedite that process!
But I have to look at this little girl inside me and say to her, I know you want that for them.  He wants it too.  But remember how GOOD He is at taking hard things and using them for their good and for His glory?  Lean into Him.  Trust His heart.  He’s watching over them while they’re gone.  He’s watching over them while they’re here.  He’s watching over His promises to them to fulfill them.  He’s more faithful than you give Him credit for.

Almost two weeks ago, I shared a moment with a child that is still causing me to not just lean into – but to press into – the heart of Jesus with a newfound desperation to believe all the promises He has made to orphans in His Word:

That He will hear their cry (Exodus 22:22-23)
That He will be their Father (Psalm 68:5-6)
That He will defend their cause and give them food and clothing (Deuteronomy 10:18)
That He will not forget them (Isaiah 49:15)

I arrived on this particular afternoon to spend several hours with the staff and the children, and call it what you want – there was just something in his eyes that day.  Who knows if something happened at school, if he wasn’t feeling well, or if he was thinking about the past (or the future) – I didn’t know, and I didn’t ask.  I heard my mom’s counsel in my head like I did back when I was a teacher and ran a difficult classroom, “Jo, he just needs a hug.”

I asked this 10-year-old if I could give him a hug, and he eagerly gave me permission.  I put my arm around his shoulder to give him a side hug and was a little surprised that he didn’t pull away after a moment.  I began to ask him about his day, how he was doing, how he was feeling.

“Fine, fine, fine,” he answered all my questions in a tone that belied his words.

The routine of the day continued, but this child stayed nearby, more quiet and withdrawn than usual, and any chance I could, I’d make eye contact with him to share a smile and let him know I could see him.  After a 30-minute chapel service at the children’s home, I sat in a pew laughing with some of the other children, and as they moved away to their next activity, this same child drew near and quietly sat right next to me.

“May I give you a hug?” I asked again, simultaneously praying, God, show me what to do or say.  The child gave me permission, and as I gave him a side hug, I could see that he was feeling a great deal of sadness.

The words came pouring out.  “Do you know that you are special?”
He nodded.
“Do you know that you are very smart?”
He nodded.
“Do you know that God made you with such a big heart, and that you love people really well?”
He nodded.
“Do you know that you are a really good friend?”
He nodded.
“Do you know that you matter?”
He nodded.
“Do you know that God has a really good plan for your life?”

Here he drew back, looked at me incredulously, and shook his head no.

Ahh.  There it is.

I fought my own tears (they would come later that night when I was back home) as I side-hugged him a little more tightly, gently rocked him back and forth, and continued, “Oh, then let me tell you.  I believe God created you so special.  I believe that God has a plan to use every hard and painful thing you’ve experienced for good.  I believe that God created you with a big, big heart, because you love people so much.  I believe someday you could be a leader or a paster or who knows!  I think you are amazing, and God just loves you so, so much.  He knows your whole story and He is going to write a good ending.  He is a good Daddy.”

The child listened to me quietly, and the hardness in his eyes softened a little.  When I let go, he simply looked up at me and didn’t speak.  His face seemed to say, You believe all that – for me?

Yes.  Yes I do.

I’m still learning how to love and care for the orphan child well.  I still have so much to learn.  With all my shortcomings and mistakes, I’m constantly overwhelmed and humbled that God put me here.  And I’m grateful.  He is truly so gracious to me.

Some days look like hours of connecting and play (because the brain of a child who is playing can’t also be operating out of “survival mode” – so play helps children heal from trauma!), and He lets me be part of that.

Some day look like me sharing with children that I was burned when I was a toddler, and I had reconstructive surgeries on my hand for 18 years, so now I have scars on my hand that make me different from other people.  Countless little fingers have gently traced the skin grafts on my hand, little minds realizing that Jordan knows what it’s like to go through a hard thing and feel different, too.  And He lets me share this vulnerable piece of my identity with them.

Some days look like gently rocking a ten-year-old back and forth and speaking over him that his Daddy loves him and has a good, good plan.

And He lets me be the one.

“O afflicted one, slashed by storms and not comforted, I will rebuild you with stones of turquoise, your foundations with sapphires.
 I will make your battlements of rubies, your gates of sparkling jewels, and all your walls of precious stones.  All your children will be taught by the Lord, and great will be their peace.  In righteousness you will be established; tyranny will be far from you; you will have nothing to fear.  Terror will be far removed; it will not come near you.” -Isaiah 54:1-14

God is for the orphan child.