We also visited a school in the Soweto Slums that a group through Transformed International is assisting in feeding the 150 children at lunchtime, some times the only meal a child will eat that day.
My job and desire during the time at the Soweto school….to play with the children. And yes, I did just that.
When we arrived, I peaked in to each class, the teachers and students welcoming me in. I found out what grade it was and introduced myself. The grade five class asked if I would sit in and learn a lesson with them. It was Math class, my LEAST favorite subject and it was grade five math…something I haven’t had to think about in a million years (or so it seems). But I did…and thoroughly enjoyed it. The math teacher, Moses, was fun with the children, using examples that they would understand and even had us busting out in laughter when he imitated stories or situations that always went back to the math problem on the chalkboard.
Then recess time came. My most fun EVER. I went out and started just talking to some of the children, when suddenly I heard a little cry behind me. I turned around and found this sweet little boy (who I later learned, his name is Basil) on the ground, sobbing. I immediately ran over to him, bent down and got him to his feet. I dusted off the dirt from the back of him, and hugged him, saying in Swahili that he was okay. His sobbing quickly left and he wrapped his arms around my neck. I picked Basil (ba-zill) up and then his legs immediately wrapped around my waist. I then began to cover his face in kisses much to the enjoyment of him and all the other children around. I then put him down, kissed his forehead and said all was okay.
Well, this then started a mob of children around me. And what did they want? They wanted me to kiss each of their foreheads. They wanted, needed, craved that physical affection. How could I deny that; why would I want to deny that? I then spent the next 20 minutes kissing each and every child’s head or cheek, most wanting more than one kiss. With each kiss, I told them that they were loved. I kissed dirty children, ringworm infested children, sweaty children...all of them. Each kiss was followed by a gush of laughter from the children; each kiss was followed by ten more screaming in Swahili “And me? And me?” These are the days that I enjoy the most; loving the children. Showing them that they are loved, because I know that God loves them, like He loves me.
I was listening to a sermon on Sunday (downloaded on my laptop from a church in the US) and one of the things that the teacher said was, “We don’t do things so that others can be saved; we do things because we are saved.” And then he said, “Let’s not just talk about how good the Shepherd is, let’s go and SHOW how good the Shepherd is.”
We are so good at TALKING, but when it comes to acting, we allow our laziness to kick in. Why is that? We can go to church on Sunday and talk for two hours about things that need to change in our church, our community, our town and even in our lives. But it just becomes talk. We leave church, saying, “Wow, that was a great message.” We may shake our heads in agreement of what is being said, we may even cry at what we’re hearing (that was usually me!) but then Sunday is over and the message is forgotten. The tears have dried up and it’s Monday morning life again.
I make sure that I tell at least one child every day that I love them, that Jesus loves them. That child can be at our friend’s place, Oasis of Hope or our children’s home, Hope Bright Future, or a street child walking the streets of Kitale. I wake up every morning knowing that my Father loves me; I want to pass that on to a child who may not know love.
Christianity isn’t about sitting in a building on Sunday mornings, singing a few songs, hearing a great sermon and going to Swiss Chalet afterwards (for us Canadians). It’s the relationship we have with God; it’s bringing glory to His name; it’s doing what He’s called us to do; it’s taking care of the orphans, widows, brokenhearted, distressed, etc. It’s not about us. It’s never been about us. It’s not just talking about doing it….IT IS DOING IT. It’s doing it for our Father.
Actions speak louder than words, doesn’t it?
Meeting with the widows....
Soweto River - covered in garbage and dumping station for feces...
Playing this crazy Monkey in the middle game, where they throw balls at you.
Taking a break from having a ball whipped at me. :-)
Recess fun!!!
Grade One's taking their lunch
My sweet Basil....
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