The Night Jesus Cried

This past Sunday we visited a church near our house called Iglesia Bautista Libertad (Freedom Baptist Church).  You may remember that Libertad was the name of the colonia where we used to live.  I was reminded again that “where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom” (2 Corinthians 3:17).  The Spirit of the Lord was definitely in this church, and I really enjoyed it.  People were excited to worship and praise God.  It’s so encouraging to worship a God who is so beyond any language or cultural barrier.  Though the service was rather lengthy (close to 3 hours), Jesus absolutely loved it.  I want to be careful not to complain about or judge any place where Christ is exalted.  It’s not for us, anyways.  It’s all for Him, and I know for sure that He thought it was great – whether or not it’s what we’re used to. 

 

Working at Harvard this week was so much fun.  We were in charge of P.E. class for the 5^th grade, and I realized how much I love P.E.  Playing kickball, or “foot base” as they call it, was crazy but awesome.  After that we went to the 3^rd grade classroom and played hangman and telephone to help them practice their English.  It was great.  I have really enjoyed interning at the school and am beginning to see a love for teaching develop (well, at least a love for P.E. grow stronger!).  Who knows…maybe I will teach in a bilingual school one day.  We’ll see…

 

On a more serious note, on Tuesday a teammate and I were playing with two young girls who were our neighbors when we lived at the church.  Their names are Carla and Cristal.  They have two brothers, their dad is an alcoholic and isn’t really around, and their mom works a lot leaving the kids at home alone.  We knew that there was definitely abuse going on and that the situation was getting worse.  On Tuesday as we were playing with Carla and Cristal, we noticed that bones in Cristal’s chest had been snapped.  Whether or not it was completely healed, we couldn’t tell.  But the bones haven’t grown back properly, and if they haven’t healed yet, they won’t grow back right.  I don’t know how she got injured, but I have guesses.  As I lay in bed that night, tears filled my eyes and I began to cry.  I cried out of hurt for her.  I cried out of feelings of helplessness.  But mostly I cried because I knew Jesus was crying.  I know He cares for Carla and Cristal way more than I do.  My prayer that night and my prayer from then on has been that I would never, ever get used to poverty or injustice or malnourishment or maltreatment or any other kind of suffering.  I don’t want to see houses smaller than my bedroom constructed from rotting wood that have mud floors and be okay with that.  I don’t want to see people who go without food and shake my head while thinking, that stinks…but that’s life.  I never want to become numb to the pain of others.  Because I see so much poverty and hurt, I don’t want to get comfortable with it.  I pray that I will always care – that I will always hurt when others hurt and will always have a genuine concern for their pain and suffering.  I never want to get to a point where I’ve seen so much that I stop caring.  Jesus’ heart breaks for people.  He cares deeply because He loves so profoundly.  I just pray that my heart would be like His – that I would cry for the pain of others, that I would rejoice in the victories of others, and that because of that intense love that I would be moved to action.  Tears fill the eyes of Jesus as He sees children who don’t have enough to eat.  Tears fill the eyes of Jesus as parents take out their rage and pain on their kids.  Tears fill the eyes of Jesus as families fall apart.  And tears fill the eyes of Jesus as Christians see the suffering of others and don’t give it a second thought.  Oh Jesus, if I could love half as much as You do, it would be a million times as much as I do now. 

 

Hebrews 13:3 – Remember those in prison as if you were their fellow prisoners, and those who are mistreated as if you yourselves were suffering.