How do we feel the pain that others experience? How do we understand the sadness that Christ feels when he watches his beloved creation stray from him? How do we understand what it means to lose both your mother and father to AIDS? How do we relate with a child that has witnessed their dad beat their mom? Is there a way to actually relate to everyone around us, or is that not our job?

If my passion is to help those in developing countries, and the most important part is to get to know them first, then what happens when I encounter people with experiences that our unfathomable to me? How can I just sit and listen to a lady tell me about the tragedies that have arisen from AIDS in her country? I’ve never had to experience things like that. I hear these stories of horrible things happening in the lives of people all around me and my heart just wants to scream because it knows that that is not how love acts. Yet for many people, they don’t know what the other option is. They have been surrounded by sin and pain for so long that love begins to wane away.

I struggled with this thought at the end of last semester and began to get frustrated because I couldn’t relate with people on everything. This is not to say that I wanted God to place bad things in my life, but I wanted so desperately to be able to relate to my friends and those around me. After this summer, and living with kids that have survived through tougher times than I have ever seen, I realized that I don’t need to have experienced the same things as others to be able to relate to them. Maybe I can’t exactly relate on the level of “yeah, I’ve been there and know the pain, it will be ok,” but perhaps I can relate to them on much simpler terms. I know what pain feels like, and I know what love feels like. When it all boils down, most heart problems come down to the fact that they have been hurt and simply want to be loved.

Johnny was mute and had a deformity in his legs which caused him to walk with a limp. Like many of the other children, he suffered from some brain damage. On top of this, Johnny was also an orphan. Not with any of the things that Johnny dealt with daily was I able to relate with, but what I was able to offer him was a hug, a smile, someone to play with, a chance to escape the pain that he had to deal with regularly. Now maybe because of Johnny’s age he didn’t realize any of this. Most of the kids truly seemed happy the whole time we were at the orphanage, and that gives me hope. But I was only there for 4 weeks and I don’t know what else Johnny deals with when I’m not around.

I think when God calls us as Christians to serve those in need around us, we are meant to simply offer hope. To show love. To show people that they are not in this thing called life alone, that as brothers and sisters we are meant to help each other along. Why do you think community is such a big deal in the Bible, because life is meant to be shared.

I wonder how much we mess that part up. In Africa I had 4 weeks to not think about anything, to not try to figure out what I was learning, but to just be. It’s amazing when you take away everything else how loudly your heart speaks to you. All the blog entries and letters and thoughts that I had in Africa were from my heart. Maybe that’s why they were so clear, because my head wasn’t getting in the way. God’s compassion began to shine through everything else in my life. I was reading in Romans and came across this verse. Romans 9:14-16 ~ “I’m in charge of mercy. I’m in charge of compassion. Compassion doesn’t originate in our bleeding hearts or moral sweat, but in God’s mercy.” It made me wonder about how to approach my passion.

I got so caught up in trying to figure out how to relate with everyone around me, that I missed the bigger picture, the picture of my heart. Colossians 3:12 says “Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.” He doesn’t say that we need to search for the thread within us that relates us to our brothers and sisters, rather he says clothe yourself. Don’t look within on your own life as to what you need to do, rather put on compassion, put on kindness and humility and gentleness and patience.

It’s weird that I’m finally learning these things now, yet the process of learning it happened 3 months ago. A broken heart is a broken heart, and sometimes those in pain simply need some encouragement to hold on one more day. Lifehouse has a song that speaks about the condition of a broken heart (you didn’t think I was going to have a post without lyrics in it). Don’t just read the lyrics, listen to the song. We all experience a broken heart every now and then in our lives. It may come in different forms but this is what relates us to one another. It’s simple yet for some reason had me confused for a quite some time. I guess it took a kid in Africa to reveal to me what my heart was telling me all along.

Lifehouse – “Broken” (listen)

The broken clock is a comfort, it helps me sleep tonight
Maybe it can stop tomorrow from stealing all my time
I am here still waiting though i still have my doubts
I am damaged at best, like you've already figured out

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
With a broken heart that's still beating
In the pain there is healing
In your name I find meaning
So I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on
I'm barely holdin' on to you

The broken locks were a warning you got inside my head
I tried my best to be guarded, I'm an open book instead
I still see your reflection inside of my eyes
That are looking for a purpose, they're still looking for life

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
with a broken heart that's still beating
In the pain there is healing
In your name I find meaning
So I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on
I'm barely holdin' on to you

I'm hangin' on another day
Just to see what you will throw my way
And I'm handing on to the words you say
You said that I will be ok

The broken lights on the freeway left me here alone
I may have lost my way now, haven't forgotten my way home