Learning How to Love

I am humbled by this place and these people, especially my friend Aunty Batu. What a beautiful woman she is. She was walking me back from Ngolala one evening, and she was telling me that every night she and her family pray for me. I can tell her that I pray for her family, but the truth is that I don’t. Often times I forget to pray and become consumed by my American life. I think about them all the time, but how often do I pray for them? They have been gracious enough to accept me, a foreigner into their home, and truly accept me as family.

Everyone in Ngolala calls me Aunty Batu’s daughter. She gives me gifts of rice, chicken, plantains, and a lapa as a welcome home gift. She gives without expectation, without thinking of the sacrifice. Then when she asks something of me, I feel offended or feel like I am being used. I give, but often I give out of duty, not out of love. I give to keep the peace, not to show thankfulness to a family who has given so much for me, and so much to honor me.

I am humbled thinking about my attitude toward these precious people. Humbled by their giving, loving hearts. Her love is precious, unreserved, and genuine. I hope that I can learn to love like she does. Instead, I love with a questioning heart, always searching for an ulterior motive. I love based on what someone can do for me. I don’t freely give my love, except to those whom I deem worthwhile. What a distorted view of love that is. Oh Jesus, teach me how to love! Teach me how to love freely, without judgment. Teach me to love without expecting to be loved in return. Teach me to love how You love.

Sweetly Broken

To the cross I look
To the cross I cling
Of its suffering I do drink
Of its work I do sing

For on it my Savior, both bruised and crushed
Showed that God is love and that God is just.

At the cross, you beckon me, you draw me gently to my knees
And I am lost for words, so lost in love
I’m sweetly broken, wholly surrendered.

Last night in worship we sang this song, and I feel that it is so characteristic of my time here. Working in the schools again has broken my heart for the things that I see and for the children who struggle to learn. There have been some other things that have been going on that I am not able to share, but that just leave me broken. Broken for this place and for these people.

When I was thinking about this last night, I realized that I am sweetly broken. Sweetly broken because I am forced to rely on the Lord and to realize that He loves these people more then I do. His heart breaks more than I can even understand. So here I will stand, at the cross, wholly surrendered and sweetly broken.