GraceFox

It’s Friday morning as I write this. I’m sitting alone on a concrete patio that juts into the Danube River. Dozens of wee silver fish jump while hungry birds dive for breakfast. Across the river, I see the Serbia. Red roofs dot its landscape. Between here and there bob three small fishing boats, each manned by two villagers.

Frogs ribbet and birds sing. A neighbor hammers. Voices converse nearby in a language I cannot understand. Pigs snort, and a rooster crows.  A cowbell clangs as a villager leads his cow down the street towards a nearby field. The sun warms my back, and I pinch myself to see if this can really be true. How did my life take the turn that put me here today?

One of my prayers has been, “God, break my heart for what breaks Yours.” God heard, and He answered by sending me to serve teens and young adults in Romania. Beautiful people they are, but deeply wounded.

Their bodies carry a disease transmitted through infected blood and needles. Their hearts carry the burden of rejection  and hopelessness. And so we come to serve and love them. To hold and hug them. To do crafts, play silly games, laugh and cry with them. To provide a few days of concentrated respite, and to share Christ’s love through word and deed.

And they respond. Oh, how they respond!

I’m amazed at the transforming power of God’s love. Protective walls crumble. Facial expressions soften.  Eyes light up. Arms open to receive and give hugs. With some kids, we can communicate with words. With others, not. But we can always bridge the language barrier with smiles, laughter, gentle touch, and doing crafts. Who would think that pony beads, painted picture frames, and bottle rockets made from 2-litre plastic pop bottles could bridge the barrier so well?

Shooting bottle rockets

My mind cannot fathom the suffering these kids have known. Indignation fills me when I hear their stories, and I want to rescue them from their circumstances but I cannot. Instead, I’ll do what I can and, as we part ways soon, I’ll pray for God to strengthen, rescue, and heal them.

Psalm 146 has assumed new meaning for me this week. It says that God is the one “who gives justice to the oppressed and food to the hungry. The LORD frees the prisoners. The LORD opens the eyes of the blind. The LORD lifts the burdens of those bent beneath their loads. The LORD loves the righteous. The LORD protects the foreigners among us. He cares for the orphans and widows, but he frustrates the plans of the wicked.”

We do what we can to help, but ultimately the Lord is one who does the work. I want to cry, “Lord—can’t You do more?” No doubt He can, but He waits for His people to do more, too.

The kids left the camp yesterday, but we’ll see many of them today and tomorrow at the drop-in center. Tonight I’ll present a message at their church service. Pray that I’ll share the words that God wants them to hear.

Tomorrow we’ll simply be available for the kids all day at the drop-in center. There’s talk of having a BBQ there for them, too. Then come the good-byes and a gazillion more hugs. After that my hubby and I begin praying for God to raise up next year’s team.