Mexico came and went faster than I like to admit. Our experience there as a family was beyond words (as you can tell from my lack of blogging)....
So, here we are, at home in Colorado and yet so far from where my heart is. My thoughts take me back to a situation that happened in Vicente Guerrero.
Our family was going to bring a group of orphan children to the beach before leaving to head back to the States. These children were given instructions on what was expected and told that if they weren't cooperating that they would have to return to the orphanage. Steve was in route from being at Rancho de Cristo and hadn't arrived yet so I decided to take the boys to the market before getting Steve and going to the beach. About 30 minutes into our time together, one of the older boys (who I will refer to as Johnny) inflicted pain on one of the younger ones. While I didn't want to send him back to the orphanage, I knew that I had to keep my word for the sake of the other children. Otherwise, they would have all been given a license to be disobedient. So, we headed back to the orphanage but first stopped at our little Casa Blanca. I was buying time. I didn't want to send Johnny back but I felt obligated to keep my word. So, I picked up Steve and before we got in the van, I told him about the situation and said that I didn't want to go through with it but that I didn't know what else to do. He immediately said, "Don't do it". When he said that, I heard "Mercy". Steve began to pray and I knew instantly God was at work.
I asked Johnny to get out of the van. He fully expected to be walking down the path to the orphanage and he was very serious. His eyes were full of tears but his heart was hard. I told him I wanted to talk to him and I asked him if he knew what mercy was. He said "Pardon". I then asked him if he knew what a pardon was. He said "No". So I told him a story about a man who robbed a bank. I paused and asked him what should happen to the robber. I asked if he should go to prison or go free. He answered "prison". So I continued the story about how the robber was caught and brought before the bank owner. The bank owner looked at the robber and said 'You can go free'. I explained that this was mercy and that mercy is when you don't get what you deserve.
I told him that I wanted to give him the gift of mercy. I said that his actions warranted going back to the orphanage but that I wanted to love him by showing him mercy and having him spend the day with our family. He wouldn't look at me but the tears clung to his eyelids as he said "No". I was horrified. I began to plead with him to come and let him know that we loved him and desired to be with him. He was steadfast. Immoveable. He wasn't going to come. My heart raced within me because of the fear of further pain being caused to this child. Even though his actions warranted a form of discipline, I couldn't bear the thought of being the one to add another layer to his already hardened heart.
As I stood there trying to convince him to come, I reasoned that he wouldn't move and so I knew what I had to do. I handed the car keys to Steve and said, "You go on to the beach. If Johnny isn't going to come with us then I will go to his house with him. Johnny, I will sacrifice my day at the beach to be with you. I want to go to the beach but I want to be with you more." For the first time, his eyes met mine. He looked stunned as if this were a foreign concept. I said, "Please come with me. Please receive my mercy". The tears that had been waiting to fall now rolled down his cheeks as he threw his arms around me and began to sob. I stood there and wept aloud with him.
There were eleven faces pressed against the window of the van watching as this miracle unfolded. While my word needed to be honored, a greater glory needed to be seen. Mercy had to triumph over Justice. Love had to prevail. The obedience would follow if Love was experienced.
We spend the next four hours laughing and playing in the surf as one particular young man stayed near my side. Anytime anyone tried to push the boundaries of our agreement, Johnny would shout a word of encouragement to them and they would willingly comply. Harmony was the heartbeat of the afternoon.
Later, I took a picture with the boys that I had grown to love over our 5 weeks there but that day something was different. They had become mine. I had savored the full weight of the gospel in our lives and witnessed the power of Love.
As I sit here in the comfort of my home, I wonder what would happen if we would yield to the Spirit more. I wonder what would happen if we would let mercy work in our hearts more. I wonder if more sons would come to glory. I wonder if we would be more effective in our pursuit for the souls of men. I wonder why the miracle of Love has to be confined to Mexico. Could it be that Love can be two places at once?
