Loving with no condition

Jesus whispered, “Kiss babies.”

I am standing under a roof made of scrap metal next to a preschool. I am watching dozens and dozens and dozens and dozens of four, five, six year olds whiz by me. Laughter, screams, and Siswati is filling my ears.

Through all the giggles, screams, and words I can’t understand, I hear a cry. It’s not loud, but my ears can easily pick that sound out of a crowd. I start searching to find where that sound is coming from. There are little boys flying through the air on swings, little girlssquealing and running past me. Then I found her. She is standing next to a swing and she is crying. She is standing still not wishing to make a scene but crying because there is a hole in her head the size of a pen. There is so much blood pouring out of her head that it seems unreal. As I run to her everything is in slow motion. Flashing through my mind I can see Jesus running up to her, sweeping her up in his arms and LOVING her. Mid stride I realize where I am…Swaziland, Africa. The HIV/AIDS hot-spot of the world…a country where half of the children I come in contact with are HIV positive…the country where there are more orphans than there are children with parents. By the time I get to her, I have stopped running. Instead of sweeping her into my arms and loving her I stare at her not knowing what to do.

After this little girl gets all cleaned up I take her to the playground, which is just two tires sticking out of the dirt. I look into her eyes and she is dead inside. I try talking to her in English, in SIswati. Nothing. So I just hold her. Nurture her. Love her.

I ask Jesus how I should have reacted in that situation and I hear, “Love with no condition.”And the tears start flowing. My tears are mixing with her blood and tears. Beauty. Brokenness.

So often I hear Jesus ask me, “What will you give up for them?” I don’t know what this looks like, but I will answer this call. And I will lose my life in the process, whether it be figurative or literal.

I apologize if this seems completely jumbled. My heart is on fire and in pieces scattered across the mountains of Swaziland. It’s not easy for me to get my point across when everything I thought I was is being broken for a nation.

And this was just Ministry Day #2. 

Four days ago I took a group of teenagers to go on house visits and we prayed for a family whose head of the house, the Father, died recently. He was buried on Saturday. We went into the house to find a woman with a blanket draped over her face and a single lit candle. As we left we looked into the eyes of four extremely young orphaned boys.

Three days ago I discussed with a student of mine that out of the 30 kids in front of us at this care point, only 3 of them would live to see their 30^th birthday.

Two days ago I examined a four year old’s body to see if he was HIV Positive. As I checked his belly, he was innocently giggling like Pooh Bear.

Yesterday I was serving food at a care point and as I was scraping the bottom of the cauldron I nervously looked out at the growing line of children waiting for their only meal of the day. I had to look them in the eye and tell them there was no more sour porridge left for them to eat.

Today I was holding a little boy when I heard the all to familiar cough of tuberculosis. I said “TB,” and he said, “yes.”

Everyday a little part of me is dying.