Without Words

“Preach always, use words when necessary.”

 

Behind me is a gang building. Broken glass litters the sidewalk, bullet holes decorate the windows and doors, gang symbols, names, and foul language are scribbled on every brick. We are in the middle of inner-city St. Louis, poverty abounds. Last night I talked to a homeless man who told me the secret of staying warm on the streets in winter. I ate breakfast with a well-educated lady who used to teach study-skills classes and now relies on a soup kitchen’s grits and turkey sandwiches for her daily bread. I just gave a piggy back ride to a 5-year old little girl who is the main caretaker of her 14-year old sister’s 1-month-old baby boy. And that sweet boy who keeps trying to hold my hand tells me everyone hates him because he’s fat. He gets McDonald’s for dinner every night. He’s 7 years old and weighs 130 pounds. He keeps coughing up stuff, I wonder if he’s been to the doctor.
It’s the picture of poverty and sadness, yet around me, I see joy.

So much joy, in fact, that even though it must be 100 degrees out and I’ve given more piggy back rides in a day than I thought humanly possible and I’m so exhausted I almost fall asleep while eating my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I just can’t stop smiling.

In the field in front of the broken-down building, Keigan has given a little boy his hat and the kid is running around with a gleeful smile on his face. Another boy wears Sarabeth’s sunglasses with a look of pride. Mr. Vinstra has two little boys on his back, all 3 are laughing, so happy. I tell a girl she has beautiful hair and her face lights up. Shelby lifts up a little boy and he lays his head on her shoulder. My youth group has come to St. Louis to give all the love we can to these kids, kids who are sometimes hard to love, who scream nasty words at each other, stick their finger out when they get annoyed, constantly get in fistfights. But these little boys and girls who are so thirsty for love, so deprived of it, somehow return the love we give them and multiply it a hundred times. When they see us every day, they scream and run toward us and hug us and won’t let go. They just want to sit in our laps and hold our hands and play with our hair and have us carry them. They call us by name. They offer to fill my water bottle and carry my bag. Every day, they don’t want to say goodbye to us. On the last day they cry, won’t go back inside because they don’t want to stop hugging us. We don’t want to stop hugging them either, and we cry, too.

No, we weren’t quoting Bible verses or sharing our testimonies this week, but sometimes actions speak louder than words. Sometimes showing a child the first love they’ve seen-- the first gentleness in the midst of anger, patience in the face of frustration—can impact more deeply than any sermon could.

And isn’t this so often true in our lives?  Sometimes I think we compartmentalize our Christian life—“There’s no way to bring up Christ in this situation, so I guess I don’t need to witness,” or “I can’t spend more than a little time in prayer each morning, so I guess I won’t be able to pray for all these prayer requests.” But shouldn’t living for Christ be more than just actions? It’s not about how many people you can witness to our how long you can spend in prayer every morning. Although these things are extremely important, we call ourselves Christians because we want to be “little Christs,” to live as Jesus lived, in everything. Yes, evangelize with words, spend time on your knees in prayer. But live like this all the time. Sometimes we can witness best by giving a piggy back ride. Sometimes the most fervent prayer time comes while cleaning the bathroom.  

It’s a lifestyle.

We get this crazy love from God and we are loved to love and we give that love to others and I've never been so blessed.

“So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.” ~1 Corinthians 10:31