“You didn’t choose me. I chose you. I appointed you to go and produce lasting fruit, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask for, using my name.”
John 15:16 NLT
We drove down the same street for miles. I had no idea how much longer it would be. It really didn’t matter because my mind was racing. I needed all the time I could get to be alone with my thoughts. People spoke and I responded. Though I still felt as if I were sitting in the mini van alone, staring out the window and wondering what meetingthe kids for the first time would be like.
The van started to slow down and stop in the middle of the road. We were making a left into a narrow road. Looking back it was similar, yet not identical, to the small country road I used to travel down when I’d visit my late great grandmother’s house in rural Texas. There was one way in and one way out but at the end of the road was home. That feeling was coming back to me even though I’d never been to this place before.
As we made the left turn there were children walking into the community where the road led. They were coming from school in their white collared tops and green longis. At first they staggered one by one then in small groups. The further we traveled in, the more exaggerated the waves got from the kids – they realized who was in the van. Some old friends and some new. It didn’t matter to them. We were family. The family they had been praying for one by one.
We continued to travel down the road as the kids waved, jumped and even called out names of familiar faces on the van. The van made a right. Then a sharp left which led into a gate. Straight ahead there were children lined up. My heart dropped to my ankles, then shot up to my throat, back down to my knees, then punched through my chest. It was here. The moment I’d heard being described for months. A meeting that would be a highlight in not just that moment but my entire life. You know, like a yellow highlighter when the fresh bright yellow ink first hits the page. That bright.
I was sitting toward the back of the van when the door swung open. The hands of children started grabbing my teammates in the front. The wait was over and they were ready.
By the time I got to the front, there were no little hands grabbing for me. There were still children in sight, but no rush to get me out of the van. I took a step off the van and wondered how I would play it off if I wasn’t chosen. Would I walk over to the swing set and sit alone? Should I follow another teammate and join their “group”? All of these thoughts rushed through my head before I could even plant both feet on the ground. I stepped completely down, still no grabbing hands.
I looked up, prepared to quickly devise a plan B. But before I could do so I was met by a pair of bright little eyes and a small hand. She reached her hand to meet mine. And though we spoke two different languages there was a universal communication that spoke of friendship.
The experience reminded me of my relationship with God. There are times when I think He’s forgotten about my situation but then a reminder comes and I hear him speak “I haven’t forgotten about you my child”.
He sent a 7 year old to remind me of this lesson right there on a concrete path facing an open playground with a church in the background that read “Disciple” at the peak. I was His disciple being sent on a mission – far from home, out of my comfort zone and in a situation out of my control. Yet he was guiding me each step of the way. Just like the little hand that met mine and guided me to the playground. No words, no description of where we were going. Just trust from the follower and the love of an all knowing leader.
