She met me at the door of the church. A simple
smile was her greeting as
she reached up, curled a tiny hand around two of my fingers and led me
to the front.
We had never met. We had no history together. There
was seemingly no reason she should come to me so willingly.
Jenny
danced, worshiped and shouted with the best of them – a beautiful
picture of coming before God with childlike exuberance.
I came
to church because it was a requirement. I was tired. I didn’t want to be
part of a worship service in another language around hundreds of people
in the mosquito riddled humid Haitian evening. So I marveled at
this
precious daughter with so much life and love to share and pondered when I
became so untrusting, so unloving and so bogged down with concerns.
As
the pastor took his place and we took our seats Jenny stood before me,
willing me to pick her up despite my precarious perch half on and half
off a plastic chair. So I reached for her, placed her on my lap and then
three people occupied a seating space built for one.
I rocked
gently back and forth to the lullaby resounding in my mind and within a
matter of minutes she slept soundly in my arms. Sweat beaded on her
forehead soaking her tiny frame and cream colored dress, but she didn’t
seem to notice.
The preacher shouted his exhortations into the
microphone, but she didn’t seem to notice.
The dancing resumed
and praises were loudly proclaimed, but she didn’t seem to notice.
Occasionally
she repositioned herself, never really stirring awake just drawing
closer to my heart.
how long she was asleep but sweat collected against my skin and dripped
to the ground, my back burned from balancing her weight and mine and my
arms went a little numb. A friend tried to fan away the heat with a hat
but it recollected as soon as she stopped. None of that mattered though.
In
those moments I wanted nothing more than for Jenny to rest peacefully
and to dream as I silently whispered prayers over her.
“Unless
you become as little children” sounded again and again in my mind
and
once more I gained just another quick glimpse of God’s heart. Jenny
trusted
me quickly, she gave her all during worship and then she was
content to rest in my arms when she grew tired. I wasn’t upset with her
for growing weary, in fact I wanted nothing more than to hold her in my
arms and know that for an hour or two she was safe, sound, and secure.
It
didn’t matter that I was uncomfortable. My comfort was easily given up
in that moment for hers.
It didn’t matter that I don’t consider
myself a kid person. A bit of a motherly protectiveness rose up in me,
wanting to make sure she was taken care of, even if just for a brief
moment in time.
open arms. It delights Him when we run up excited to spend time with
Him, whether it’s the first time or the millionth. He loves it when we
give our all in adoration of Him, and He sings and dances with us as we
rejoice. Jesus considered it all joy to endure the cross. I would say
that is putting aside some comfort for our benefit, and He did it
joyfully. And when we need it He willingly holds us, comforts us and
invites us to rest.
of becoming more childlike.
