Heal my heart and make it clean. Open up my eyes to the things unseen. Show me how to love like You have loved me. Break my heart for what breaks yours. Everything I am for Your Kingdom’s cause, as I walk from earth into eternity. [Hosanna – Hillsong United]
Be still, my heart. That’s my motto. My mantra. I chant it to myself some days, while other days I simply let it float across my mind once. Some days my heart does not stop aching; those days need more reminders. Other days are less painful, less full of reminders of why my heart breaks.
What breaks my heart exactly, you ask? Well it’s the same thing that breaks God’s heart – sin, hurt, people turning from Him, children. Oh. That last one. The children. Even that word makes my heart turn in my chest. You know when you get “butterflies” in your stomach, and it flops and flutters? That would be what my heart does when I think of the children. All children, but especially the ones without families, or with broken families. The ones living in deepest poverty, lucky to make it to 18 without ending up in gang or killed. The ones living in the highest riches, unsure of what it truly means to know you because they’ve never been shown love like that. Thinking about those children makes my heart ache. It makes me restless. It makes me want to run and do something, to love on them and show them the love of Christ.
Be still, my heart.
My little Romanians ring in my heart most of all. Oh, how I love those children! Iubesc copii mei romani! I can’t help myself. I just love them so terribly, incredibly, inexpressibly much. Ask anyone who’s been to Romania – the little ones grab onto your heart and they just don’t let go. It doesn’t matter if they’re little angels or seem to be the devil’s minions. You can’t help but love on them, even when you want to smash your forehead into a brick wall (perfectly normal desire, I promise). It’s something about their smiles, about their hugs and their kisses, about their games, about their little gifts. It’s their need to feel love and their desire to give it in return, regardless of the fact that many of them have not seen unconditional love in quite some time, if ever. Oh, how I love and miss them right now.
Be still, my heart.
In debriefing before we leave, they tell us how we’ll feel like “no one understands.” It’s pretty much a constant feeling. How can you understand the love for the orphan if you have never met him? David Platt says it perfectly in his book “Radical” when he says:
“We learned that orphans are easier to ignore before you know their names. They are easier to ignore before you see their faces. It is easier to pretend they’re not real before you hold them in your arms. But once you do, everything changes…”
Be still, my heart.
Patience is my friend. In God’s time, I will return to Romania. I know this. My heart will always ache for the children, but one day, all will be well. As God has promised, He will fulfill. I know that with utmost certainty.
drowninlove 