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Global Urban Trek 2008
Stones, Sticks and Luke 6July 26, 2008
Love has taken on a whole new meaning this last week. It is much more powerful and even more difficult than I realized. My heart finally broke for the Sudanese people, the same week that hatred crept into my heart.
God broke my heart through a rough little seven-year-old girl. On Monday, the child that terrorized other children on the playground told me her ankle hurt. I carried her to the water cooler. I was shocked when her little body started to shake as I poured water on her. With each new cup of water I poured, her body would spasm, followed by a sharp intake of breath. Despite the pain, she wanted to wash the cut: she was soon showing me multiple other cuts on her arms, feet and knee.
When I asked her how she got the cuts, she pointed to a man nearby who had dropped kids off that morning – it killed me. Whether abused or not, this child was craving attention. I took her into an empty classroom. She was asleep as soon as I sat down with her.
Within minutes I had silent tears streaming down my face: God broke my heart as the attention-starved, rough little girl slept in my arms. I cried not only for Aluel, but for the Sudanese refugees who are waiting and waiting, who come from a past of pain, are waiting in a city of pain and only hoping that the future is brighter.
Later, Shekinah, Merida and I were studying Luke 6 when about nine Egyptian boys came to the door with sticks yelling at our mama that they needed our host brother because he had supposedly hurt one of the boys. Even though Mama explained that our brother had gone to church hours ago, the boys continued screaming and threatening her.
They were eventually chased out of the hallway of the building into the street. She locked the door to the apartment building, but they continued yelling for sometime. I was so mad that these boys could make my mama come back in the house looking so tired – that they believed that they had more power and authority than a grown woman.
Shekinah took that moment to point out Luke 6:27: "Love your enemies, do good to those that hate you, bless those that curse you, pray for those who mistreat you." Sigh. God, what does that mean? I only know that it's hard.
While the two experiences of the week are quite a contrast, both forced me to understand that love is difficult. It means sharing in the pain and struggle of others, of feeling it to the core, embracing it and looking at it full in the face. I am struggling with this concept of a love I can't fathom, a love that prays and blesses those that curse me, when honestly I would rather strike back.
I expect I'll be chewing on Luke 6 for quite awhile.
- Karin
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