LUO means to set free; to break barriers, and that is exactly what is happened when a group of 12 high school students from Brentwood, TN gave two weeks of there summer to serve in South Africa.
When the group arrived at Ithemba the first day, you could see them examining their surroundings, the smiling faces, the roar of children’s excitement, and the soft touch of little hands. But underneath it all there was something else going on, a secret war waged inside each person.
At Ithemba we take pride in caring for our kids, mentally, physically, and spiritually. However, most of our children come from very humble circumstances; bluntly, they live in abject poverty. Some of our children only have one set of clothes that must be worn every day leaving them dirty and smelly. Sickness is also prevalent in the community, and it’s not uncommon for kids to come in with runny noses, croupy coughs and the like. And then there is HIV…
This is reality, poverty isn’t pretty.
Upon arriving at Ithemba, the group of 12 students was met by this reality as swarms of children came running to get hugs. When a child runs and jumps on you, the strong smell of dirty clothes and a runny nose can be overwhelming. Often the gut reaction is to think gross don’t touch me or to constantly put on hand sanitizer. Thus a war is waged between fear and love.
During the last night of the trip, some of the students opened up about the ways they had been transformed throughout the trip. Jesse tenderly and transparently told of how his “gross” barrier was broken down as he got to know the kids and see their beautiful spirits. He was moved to the point where he no longer cared about whether he was going to get dirty or sick but used every opportunity to love and dignify each child. They had become precious to him.
As I listened to him talk I was reminded of the story of the prodigal son from the Bible. In the story there is a son and a father. The son decides that he wants his inheritance; the only problem is his father is still living. He effectually says, Dad you are as good as dead to me, therefore I want my inheritance now. The father gives the son his inheritance, which he turns around and blows in a foreign land. When the money is gone and his “friends” have abandoned him, he desperately becomes a hired hand, feeding pigs to survive. The lowest low for a good Jewish boy.
At the pinnacle of the story, the boy decides to go home and beg his father to let him be his servant. As he crests the last hill overlooking the father’s land, he takes a deep breath and rehearses a speech he had prepared. When the father sees his son in the distance, he starts running. When he reaches the son, he grabs him, at which point the reader is not sure if he’s going to kill him, or just shake him silly for being a fool. But instead he does the unimaginable; he gets out his hand sanitizer because eww gross. No, that’s not what happens at all.
He sweeps up his son in a loving embrace and plants a kiss right on his face, a face that is covered in pig muck. The father disregards all his filth, internal and external, out of his great love for his son. He loves him. No strings attached. No conditions to be met. He loves him.
But this is more than a story, it’s reality. It is the way God loves us; he sweeps us up dirty and sick, and embraces us. Instead of being overwhelmed by how dirty we are he is overwhelmed by how much he loves us.
I’m so encouraged by Jesse’s transformation. What a powerful reminder of how we are loved and how we are called to love.
May the barriers, keeping us from loving in this way, be broken, LUO. May our hearts be set free to love completely, LUO.
Love. Joy. Peace.
Zach
