More Romania lessons
Just a couple of ideas God seemed to share with me yesterday at church while we were worshipping in Yorktown...
First involves an incident I think I emailed about, but maybe not blogged about. It was at the Black Forest, and Laszlo had just wet himself (at least, I had just noticed it). The Romanian worker kept piling on the shame and guilt, telling him how embarassed he should be, how the greatest shame was on him, and whatnot. One of the more permanent Swedish staff people told him as he was walking in to change how Jesus still forgave him and loved him. Not surprisingly, when Laszlo came back out, it wasn't long until he had wet himself again.
God began to show me the idea that, spiritually speaking, we aren't that different than the orphans in Romania are. In some senses, we are to be more like them (like children, totally dependent on God type of thing). In particular, that picture of Laszlo came to my mind, with me in the place of Laszlo, and the "accident" just being an arbitrary sin. How often do I just completely beat myself up over my mistake, often to the point where I very quickly do it again? The important thing was the God forgave me and loved me--that trumped everything else, and hopefully Laszlo got that message somewhere in his subconscious. In particular, what we think as the "greatest shame" often isn't remotely close to that, like Laszlo having an accident. He's not really to the age where you would expect him to be potty-trained, especially for someone who's an orphan. Not to dismiss sin, but realize that God still wins.
The second one is a little shorter. :) On the last day of camp, as I was carrying a little girl (I wish I remembered her name) back from the creek to our little activities deck, she started calling me "Isus," or Jesus. I thought it was kind of cute, and I had played the role of Jesus in all of our skits and whatnot. Still, I was worried that she might confuse me for the real Isus...I mean, she was only 2 or so. But God comforted me yesterday about that--she was completely comfortable in my arms, and really just wanted to be held by me as we walked back to the deck. So, she related Isus with someone who would love on her, hold her, and be happy about that. What better picture of God is that? In that instance, I was Jesus to her. Whoa...
First involves an incident I think I emailed about, but maybe not blogged about. It was at the Black Forest, and Laszlo had just wet himself (at least, I had just noticed it). The Romanian worker kept piling on the shame and guilt, telling him how embarassed he should be, how the greatest shame was on him, and whatnot. One of the more permanent Swedish staff people told him as he was walking in to change how Jesus still forgave him and loved him. Not surprisingly, when Laszlo came back out, it wasn't long until he had wet himself again.
God began to show me the idea that, spiritually speaking, we aren't that different than the orphans in Romania are. In some senses, we are to be more like them (like children, totally dependent on God type of thing). In particular, that picture of Laszlo came to my mind, with me in the place of Laszlo, and the "accident" just being an arbitrary sin. How often do I just completely beat myself up over my mistake, often to the point where I very quickly do it again? The important thing was the God forgave me and loved me--that trumped everything else, and hopefully Laszlo got that message somewhere in his subconscious. In particular, what we think as the "greatest shame" often isn't remotely close to that, like Laszlo having an accident. He's not really to the age where you would expect him to be potty-trained, especially for someone who's an orphan. Not to dismiss sin, but realize that God still wins.
The second one is a little shorter. :) On the last day of camp, as I was carrying a little girl (I wish I remembered her name) back from the creek to our little activities deck, she started calling me "Isus," or Jesus. I thought it was kind of cute, and I had played the role of Jesus in all of our skits and whatnot. Still, I was worried that she might confuse me for the real Isus...I mean, she was only 2 or so. But God comforted me yesterday about that--she was completely comfortable in my arms, and really just wanted to be held by me as we walked back to the deck. So, she related Isus with someone who would love on her, hold her, and be happy about that. What better picture of God is that? In that instance, I was Jesus to her. Whoa...
posted by spocktongue at 2:42 PM
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