Isaiah 61

*Whew*
The first week of camp is over with. 
It seems I hardly have time to process all of the experiences I encountered this past week because, already, we are looking ahead to the next.
This week was embodied by the thought of a putting my hand to a plow and not glancing back. 
As the Lord continues to show me, I am responsible for faithfulness to speak the gospel, but the weight of responsibility is God's. He changes lives. 
My team at the beginning of this week were completely different kids by the end. Some of the feelings they came with were the normal nervousness of meeting new people, but much had to do with emotional barriers that they bear. 
By the end of the week, a girl who arrived stone faced was smiling, a boy who had been silent was talking, the one who did not want to be touched did not stop wanting to be hugged, and one that had not made eye contact or participated was constantly begging to be first to compete in games and incessantly asked questions. I loved my kids. 
I loved how God orchestrated the perfect team through seemingly random selection of grabbing them off of buses that first day, or trying to win them over from other teams the within the first minutes of loud confusion and general pandemonium. I love how out of chaos and exhaustion, God works to plant seeds of His word in these kids that are so precious to Him. I love how He is changing my perspectives, constantly and consistently. I loved that He taught me too much this week to even begin to sort through, even as I attempt to write thoughts out. I love that through my selfish, useless vessel He can display His selfless love and grace. I loved my kids enthusiasm and laughter. I loved hearing them shout their memory verses in Romanian, and praying that God would make their very recitation of His gospel real to them. I loved getting to know each of my kids, and at the last day, praying over them in ways I didn't even understand and in areas that God had revealed to me.
The last day was hard. Saying goodbye, knowing that this will most likely be the last time I see these specific kids on earth. The tone of my group changed as the camp day began to come to an end. My kids grew a bit somber, and some sat with silent tears. 
In a sense, this week was highly unfair. I was sad to see them go, but I am surrounded by people who love me. I have a very real representation of Christ's love through my family and friends back home. At the end of my stay here, I will go back to stability and comfort. 
For most of these kids, this week was it. If their home allows our follow up program to do classes, this won't be their only contact with those bearing Christ's name, and God works in ways and through people however He chooses. But this week was the most obvious, focused expression of love specifically to each kid that they can expect to experience all year. What broke my heart the most was to see the kids who made so much progress throughout the week retreat back into silence, or anger, or another burden they came with...
and we cannot preach the "American gospel" to "fix" them. 
In orientation, we learned of a young girl one year who asked if she accepted prayed to God, would she stop being raped every night when she went back to her home? The American leader encouraged her that God would protect her. 
With a face set like a stone, she approached her leader the next day. Through the translator she communicated, "You said to pray, that God would save me. And still, I was raped. I want nothing to do with your religion."
We can make no promises to these kids that if they just accept Christ, they will end up happy and successful here on earth. We do not say, if you believe in God, your parents will come back, or someone will adopt you. We cannot assure them that believing in God will keep them from being abused, if not by a worker, than by another of the kids in their home. 
Instead, we promise them what Christ offered. We promise them His comfort, joy, and peace despite circumstances. We preach eternal life and hope. We offer a love that doesn't abandon, and grace that extends far beyond our knowledge and understanding. 
As God has been redefining my understanding of the gospel, this was the hardest to learn, let alone live. 
In my human understanding, strength and sovereignty mean protection and comfort. 
But again, this is my human understanding. 
Christ offers an eternal perspective on life that supersedes anything we could encounter on earth. 
Why He would choose to use someone like me, who has hardly experienced any form of real suffering to bring his gospel to those who have experienced the harshest form of hardship, is completely beyond my understanding. Perhaps the Lord chose to include us, the American church, hardly because, as we seem to think, we are a super spiritual, equipped people who have the best resources and most knowledge on how to help the world's "least of these". But in that we are the least equipped. Yes, we have resources beyond the people whom we minister to could dream of. We have access to the Word and freedom of opinion more than we could appreciate... 
But to a child who experiences the vicious cycle of abandonment, one who experiences the very worst of human sin nature, forces of evil, and a fallen world... Are our pampered, manicured hands, the extension of Christ's body, the most equipped? Hardly. But, is not our God most glorified in what we are most ill equipped for? 


As we have been called to...a planting of the Lord for a display of His splendor. -Isaiah 61:3