Love God's Way

Tattered clothes. Feeble bodies. Hungry stomachs. Runny noses. We visited site after site hoping to change the inevitable outcome of literally hundreds of children through the vast knowledge and incalculable resources of American wealth.

Anticipation to change the world crashed on the shore of hesitation. In theory, it all made sense that we could offer a major change for the lives of these small gifts of God. But reality was being shaped by my own tumultuous heart.

Each morning we left our humble abode atop the mountainous region of Kijabe, trekking through the region hoping to leave the fingerprints of God on places that were destitute and full of dismal atrocities caused by poverty and hopelessness.

Playing games with children. Praying over patients. Even laying the foundation for a school. I found myself walking beside people who at first sight seemed so vastly different only to realize we all had the same Creator and design; we were all a desperate people in need of a Savior.

There is no question that the sites and sounds of nearly two weeks in a foreign country brought an overwhelming range of emotions. Laughing, crying, and even moments of fatigue and impatience all surrounded our thinly worn bodies and minds as we chose to exert every ounce of energy in being present with our new neighbors.

But here lies my greatest regret and most heartfelt confession. In all the excitement of new adventures and the fatigue of pouring myself into others, I found myself loving with reservation. I know. I know. The epitome of the Christian faith is unconditional love but in those moments I felt myself holding back. It was as if my love tank was being strangled by sweltering heaps of undue reciprocity. It was sin-stricken thoughts of "What are you going to do for me?" that came like a flood causing an internal anguish of the soul.

Near the trip's end, when our team was discussing our most memorable moments and the most difficult story for which we would remember, I couldn't shake this horrific sight. It wasn't the glaring needs of children in poverty. It wasn't the unsettled nature of women prostituting themselves to send their children to school. It was my bout with choosing to love unconditionally. A war that, by my own admission, I was losing.

But God would not settle for His son to be defeated. Rather, He saw me in a state of brokenness and chose to redeem the circumstances by placing me in the ring once again with an opportunity to revive this regenerating spirit of love. Not with a foreigner, not on foreign soil, not in front of a crowd. But with one person, in a familiar place, with a familiar face.

Weak. Hurting. Helpless. Uncomfortable. I was welcomed home by my son, normally full of energy and spunk, stricken with a virus that left him motionless and groaning in the arms of his father. There were no reciprocating actions of love. It was just me weighing my love in the balance; with no conditions. And it was in those moments that I was reminded of the prayer I offered only days before, "Lord, please forgive my unloving heart and let me redeem the moment of loving again without condition; loving the way you love me!"

I know my love could never match the amazing love of my heavenly Father but holding my son in those moments gave me a glimpse of the posture He holds for us and the posture He desires that I would hold for the least of these in this world that He's created. A love without reservation; unconditional love!