When I asked Jesus to “break my heart for what breaks His”, I never thought He would utterly demolish it. I have had the opportunity to see many parts of the world, refuge camps in Vietnam, Palestinian homes half demolished and a man being beaten by boarder guards in Morocco. So I’d say I was seasoned in understanding life outside of America. But, I was not prepared for this. On day 3 of our trip I had an opportunity to met a young boy of 9 yrs age named Wiliam. The moment I saw him, I realized he looked exactly like my youngest son, minus the blond hair and blue eyes. Same smile, same ears, same body build. I watched him play in the gym. And my heart started to break. I imagined my own son playing in the gym, and my mother heart longed to love on this boy. After the time of games, we left the camp and went on a home visit, and it’s only Jesus who can arrange a visit to Wiliam’s home. Two beds, a chair and a kitchen for a family of 5. Hearing and the situation of Wiliam’s family just took my heart to a deeper level of brokenness.
I am ashamed to say that I did the typical American thing. I desired to pack him in my suitcase and take him home with me. I expressed to Brock this desire, and he broke out into a grin. And he said to me, “You need to leave him here. You need Wiliam to grow into the Godly man who will change his family. You must pray for him, write to him and come back to see him again. But leave him so that he can change this community for Jesus.”
So with that, I pack my suitcase for my return home and I am leaving Wiliam here. I take home my heart that is broken for these boys and such love for them. I will write them, I will pray for them, and if Abba allows, I will return to see them again.