Reflections....

"Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you." 

Matthew 28:19

If I've read that verse once, I've read it a thousand times. I've taught it to song, during Kid's Worship. I've written it. I've typed it. I know it inside and out. If you have spent any amount of time in an Evangelical church, I'm sure you can recite it by heart, as well.  But I missed a key part. Sure, I know it. But I completely missed it. I'll give you a little background.

I was raised as part of the "Christian Right".  I don't know who coined that phrase, nor do I care. But that is how I would've described myself.  I listened to Rush Limbaugh, as a child.  I even wanted to run for President of the United States (those dreams were dashed when my dad told me he would vote against me). Haha!  But I digress...I dreamt of being Ann Coulter when I grew up - a strong woman, who knows what she believes and doesn't back down. I ran the local Tea Party in my town, attending commissioner meetings and marching on Washington with hundreds of thousands of "patriotic Americans" just like me. But somewhere along the way, I got lost.... I started believing that the Conservative Movement was "Christian" first and "Right Leaning" second. I would've never admitted it, because that would be awful (and honestly I don't think I even realized that's what I believed), but for the most part, I saw Heaven separated into nations, with America having the biggest and best piece of land. I didn't have a problem with different colors of skin, a fact I was quite proud of. But I did see a definite separation between peoples of different countries. 

But then God.

Then God dug me up by my very shallow roots and planted me on the other side of the world, in an Eastern European country, with a culture I don't understand, that is in the middle of a refugee crisis. And then Paris. And Mali. And Nigeria. And Beirut.  And I find myself with the opposite viewpoint of my friends on the "Christian Right." My foundation has been shaken. And I thank God for that. Because my roots were shallow. I placed being American on the same level as being Christian. I hate typing that. But it's true. 

But then God. 

I have read Scripture that I have heard over and over again, with a new set of eyes, trying desperately to see people from other countries through God's eyes, and with God's heart for the nations. 

I'm scared.  Standing at the refugee camp yesterday, in "no man's land" between the two borders, with the people who are stuck between countries, was scary. Zo and I were encircled by 7-10 Middle Eastern men, asking us questions about what is happening to them, and my stomach was in a knot. But, slowly, slowly, I started seeing past their clothing, and age, and accents, and saw something different. Were they telling us the truth about their intentions? I have no idea. Were we in danger? I don't know that either.  Was I afraid? Absolutely. 

When a woman inside the camp, who I was giving diapers to, said, "Akbar" to me, my stomach flipped.  And then I realized she was just saying the diaper size was "great".  Wow.  The momentary fear from hearing that word.  From knowing she was either from Afghanistan, Iraq, or Syria. From knowing that I could be talking to someone who wanted me dead because I am a Christian.  

But then God.

So, yesterday, I took pictures. A lot of pictures. Pictures of people. Made in the image of God.  People that God loves.  And not a single person there was an American. Or part of the Christian Right. 

I don't presume to recommend what governments should do.  I am not implying that we should not vet people or be cautious, as a nation.  This post is more for me than it is for anyone else.  Because I'm still trying to work this all out in my heart and in my mind. But I want, more than anything, to love the people that God loves. And plant my roots deep, on the foundation that God designed. And to bring Him honor in the middle of this mess. So, I will share with you the pictures of the people that I saw at the camp yesterday. And I ask that you will join me in praying for them. And for us.  

Because He promised, in the second part of that verse (above) that He will be with us always, until the end of the age.  And I'm banking on that promise because He is faithful.

These two little punkins were so engrossed in shoveling noodles into their mouths, that they didn't even look up/notice when I handed them chocolate .  They were absolutely beautiful.

He actually asked me to take his picture.  He was sitting outside the children's tent, waiting on his mother to change his little brother's diaper.  His backpack was way too heavy for him, but he didn't say a word. An older brother, having to grow up faster than he should.  

He was so shy. That is, until he saw the chocolate.  Then he was all smiles!

When I took his picture, he giggled. And then I showed him what he looked like on my camera screen, and he threw his head back and belly laughed.  Oh, my heart.

"The little apple boy" kept hiding from me, behind the tent flaps.  But I have found I can get really far with a smile and a chocolate.  Finally, after some coaxing, he came out, smiled, and gladly accepted the chocolate.  

I'm not sure he could find the missing puzzle piece, I was there for over two hours, and he had that around his neck for the entire time. Haha!

She was precious.  Very busy moving the rocks from the right side of the board, to the left side. One at a time. Over and over again. Squat, pick up rock, place it on the other side, stand up, and then squat again.  When I gave her the chocolate, she turned and took it to her mother. And then back to her work again.

My favorite. She was so dirty. Absolutely filthy. No smile. But every single time I would hand out chocolates, she would run from wherever she was, and stand silently in the line. One chocolate per child. Except for her. She got four or five. Always silently. Always running right back to the pile of bags. No family to be seen, until later, when she was leading her younger sibling around, like a little mother hen.  I wanted to hug her. But she was so reserved, and I didn't want to scare her.

Sitting on a cardboard box, in the middle of the refugee camp.  Her mother had no diapers.  The baby girl's diaper was obviously days old and her rash was so bad.  I found fresh diapers, some diaper rash cream, and wet wipes for sensitive skin.  The pain was great and she sobbed. But with a fresh diaper and some medicine, she will be better soon.  I gave her mom 4 more diapers, for the journey.

There are real people behind the headlines.  Real people that have brothers and sisters and sons and daughters. People who are scared, too.  Many of them didn't realize how difficult the journey would be.  They, too have heard the stories of boats sinking in the sea. Of borders closing. Of terrorist attacks.  People made in the image of God. Who need to be prayed for. And helped.

People who need to be loved.