"The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners."
~ Isaiah 61: 1-2
why does my heart break?
i found the answer this morning as i was reading my sister's blog. my heart has been shaped and molded by a family who has shown me, what i believe is the very heart of God. a heart that looks on the poor, the broken, the hurting, the forgotten, and the abused and offers life.
i have seen this heart in a mother who dared to love brandon. brandon, or at least i think that was his name, was a 5th grade student who was left out, poor, and i'm sure forgotten, but not by his 5th grade teacher mrs. teague. i remember her coming home and telling us one day how bully at school had purposefully ruined brandon's project he had been working so hard to finish and make as perfect as he was able. i remember vividly two things about that conversation: the hurt i felt for brandon, not because i knew him and cared for him, but because i saw the hurt in my mother's eyes, in her voice, and in her tears and i remember how proud i felt when my mom told us she had stayed after school, after spending hours with annoying, pestering 5th graders, to help brandon remake his masterpiece. i saw the same heart in my mom when she spent 47 in the NICU standing beside her daughter and over her sick grandsons, when i'm sure it brought back frightful memories of her standing in the same NICU over her own sick son. standing over me. praying for me. praying to a God she knew and loved to not her son away from her. to not take me away from her. i have a mom, like my God, who still stands beside and protects her children.
i have seen this heart in a man who has given his very life to tell people about a God who created them and a God who loves them. this man, my father, who at fifty gets in a van and drives around the city of knoxville to pick up high school students so they may hear the good news of Jesus. to pick up the forgotten ones. to pick up the african americans, the latinos, the poor, the lost, the broken. to pick up santos. my father loves santos and for a year he fed him, tutored him, cheered for him, cried for him, and most importantly told him on a weekly basis about how much God loves him and how much God desperately wants to have a relationship with him. my father has shown me the heart of God by sitting in a racquetball court years ago and weeping with his son. a son who at that the time felt like he was not enough, not strong enough, athletic enough or good enough. a heart that years later still breaks for the same son who falls into the trap of wondering if people will still love him despite the mistakes he has made. i have a father, like my heavenly father, who gets down on the floor with me and weeps out of a broken heart for his hurting, confused, and scared son.
why does my heart break for those who are in need? why do i desperately want those who are unaware of God's love, forgiveness, grace and mercy to come running to Him to find life? because for twenty three years i have watched two people who love Jesus flesh out the very heart of Jesus into our world and it has help create in me a similar heart. a heart that loves Jesus. i can love a God who heals the blind, looks after the widows, seeks justice for the lost, or stands inside a NICU for 47 days or loves a fatherless latino kid. you see i hope my heart is breaking not because i selfishly want to change the world or i want to simulate actions congruent with those people who i admire... my heart is breaking because i believe Jesus's heart is breaking too.
1 comment:
Whoa. You are amazing. Our parents should be proud that they raised two social activists, two binders of broken hearts, two proclaimers of freedom to the captives! I love that we were made for this hurting for others--that we learned it from our parents and that we were born with it from our creator.
Also--tears all over my eyes remember Brandon and his project. Do my kids have to go to middle school???
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