unneeded

I look around the room, knowing He had promised to interact with us through them.

The little children.

The room is full. Wall to wall there are occupied chairs and plates filled with pizza and children scrambling around and tripping over each other.

I laid down a slice of pepperoni pizza for one of my favorite boys. He's eleven. Already old enough to hide his emotions more than most. Already concerned about what we think about him. Another one of my favorites is still so excited about life his eyes light up. A third is insecure and is often picked on and bullied - especially by adults. But he is a musician and he absorbs everything I say to him. The fourth is quiet and attentive and helpful, and all boy. Each of them have a special place in my heart.

They didn't start eating right away. And in my chaotic mind, I didn't understand why. I leaned over and put my hand on one of their shoulders and told them to go ahead. They smiled and nodded.

And then they bowed their heads.

What??

You know I don't really need you in order to do this work... right?

Days like today I feel ill equipped and unprepared. I am not strong enough. I am not wise enough. I am not friendly enough. I am not faithful enough to do this work.

Days like today my heart is so full of love for these children that I am brought to tears. All I want is to see them love the Father and live great stories with their lives. In each of their faces I see change and hope and light.

There were four who had stolen my heart. Four children whose faces are burned in my memory. When I am sixty years old and people ask why I do what I do, I will tell them their names. That is what they mean to me.

But they are gone now. Moved to a different neighborhood. And there are still some nights when I feel lost without them. My arms feel empty, because they loved me too, I think.

But their salvation... their well being... their protection was not in my hands.

And as quickly as those four stole every last bit of my heart, they were gone.

In their absence, I hear our Father whispering. Whispering about His love for us, His children. We who stole His heart. We whose faces are burned in His memory. When asked why He did what He did, He says our names.

And we move out of His neighborhood. Walk out from under His protection. Wander away from the places He dwells. And I wonder if His arms feel a little empty without us.

It is through this I am able to catch a glimpse of the finite reflecting the infinite. I am overwhelmed by how much He loves us. And how hard He is working.

When He speaks again, it is gently.

I can do this work without you.

This is both a truth that relieves and a truth that humbles.

I want to use you to do it. I have called you to this. I will use this place to change you. But you have to remember. I don't need you...

He doesn't need us the way we need Him. Our Father, whose strength is best displayed in our weaknesses and shortcomings, does not need us to be able to do anything.

Even better though, He wants us.

He desires us.

He misses us.

But when, in the chaos, I forget to teach my children about thankfulness, our Father is already moving. Stirring in their purity and captivating their innocence. Even if it is just a prayer over pizza. I didn't teach them that.

I am not...

Fill in the blank.

I love One who Is.

If I don't need you to do this, then I am big enough to do the rest as well. Ask Me. Ask Me to do what you cannot. Ask Me to come and be stronger than you. To overcome. I'll do it. Just ask.