The love of God is colorblind.
I sit on the floor, his body so relaxed as he leans over into my lap. We listen to this week's Bible story, and I rub his fuzzy African head. His little hand slipped into mine, a contrast of color, and an out pour of love.
This particular child is one of the youngest in our Children's Church program. Most weeks, he runs, screams, kicks, and hits all around as he is accompanied by two others his same age. All three are new to English, making any possible character breakthroughs a seemingly impossible task. But today, oh today was different! This week's story was on the Tower of Babel, and the kids were broken into several groups to see who could build the tallest tower. I helped these rambunctious little ones build their tower. They diligently built with blocks of different sizes. The goal was to stack from smallest to largest, but they were having a hard time grasping this concept. I helped them pick which blocks were biggest, and together our tower stood tall. The pride in their heart burst as they saw their accomplishment. We then switched to plastic alphabet blocks. Although created to stack, they were not created to make tall towers. Not a single one got frustrated, but one boy in particular diligently worked on an upright tower. "Teacher!" he declares, "It won't stay up! Look!" he pointed out how the sides were not flat, which led to the tower continually falling. I encouraged him to try finding the flattest side, and to keep working hard. Never did he get frustrated at the continual destruction of his hard work, or the wandering attention of his friends. Finally, after many failed attempts, the tower stood tall, one block on top of the other with no hands holding a single block. We cheered! We celebrated! We knew we had accomplished a challenging task, and it felt good! That was when my diligent little worker takes off his brand new sandal to show it off. "Oh! You have Lightning McQueen on your shoes," I proclaim. They were obviously brand new, and he wore them with pride.
As we began to gather for our story, I sat on the ground with a group of 25 children. In no particular spot, I sat to be an example of what the children should be doing, as well as assisting children stay quiet for the story. The three little boys, usually inseparable, huddled together in the middle of the room. My new friend pokes his head up and begins looking around the room. Our eyes meet. I smile at him, and he dashes to my side, leaving his friends behind. I put my arm around his shoulders, and that is when he noticed something different about me. He noticed my nose ring. I am not sure what goes through a child's mind when sitting in my lap, and they can see up my nose. I'm sure I would be horrified to see a long hunk of metal up someone's nostril too. He was no different. His face gasped as he saw up my nose, and like all the little children in my life, he just had to touch it! I laugh and grab his hand. It was time for the story to start, which meant we must listen. He leaned his arm into my lap, and placed his small hand into mine. "The love of God is colorblind," my heart sang, as a reminder of a song I once sung in a gospel choir. In that moment, I was overwhelmed with joy.
The love of God is colorblind. No matter our nationality, background, language, or skin color, God's love for us abounds. He sent His precious Son as a sacrifice for all. Nothing limits His love for us, as He calls us to Himself. I am in awe that He reveals His heart to me, and molds my heart to match His. He blessed me with the opportunity to cross those barriers, and share His unfailing love with those "different" than me -- to be His example.
I sit on the floor, his body so relaxed as he leans over into my lap. We listen to this week's Bible story, and I rub his fuzzy African head. His little hand slipped into mine, a contrast of color, and an out pour of love.
This particular child is one of the youngest in our Children's Church program. Most weeks, he runs, screams, kicks, and hits all around as he is accompanied by two others his same age. All three are new to English, making any possible character breakthroughs a seemingly impossible task. But today, oh today was different! This week's story was on the Tower of Babel, and the kids were broken into several groups to see who could build the tallest tower. I helped these rambunctious little ones build their tower. They diligently built with blocks of different sizes. The goal was to stack from smallest to largest, but they were having a hard time grasping this concept. I helped them pick which blocks were biggest, and together our tower stood tall. The pride in their heart burst as they saw their accomplishment. We then switched to plastic alphabet blocks. Although created to stack, they were not created to make tall towers. Not a single one got frustrated, but one boy in particular diligently worked on an upright tower. "Teacher!" he declares, "It won't stay up! Look!" he pointed out how the sides were not flat, which led to the tower continually falling. I encouraged him to try finding the flattest side, and to keep working hard. Never did he get frustrated at the continual destruction of his hard work, or the wandering attention of his friends. Finally, after many failed attempts, the tower stood tall, one block on top of the other with no hands holding a single block. We cheered! We celebrated! We knew we had accomplished a challenging task, and it felt good! That was when my diligent little worker takes off his brand new sandal to show it off. "Oh! You have Lightning McQueen on your shoes," I proclaim. They were obviously brand new, and he wore them with pride.
As we began to gather for our story, I sat on the ground with a group of 25 children. In no particular spot, I sat to be an example of what the children should be doing, as well as assisting children stay quiet for the story. The three little boys, usually inseparable, huddled together in the middle of the room. My new friend pokes his head up and begins looking around the room. Our eyes meet. I smile at him, and he dashes to my side, leaving his friends behind. I put my arm around his shoulders, and that is when he noticed something different about me. He noticed my nose ring. I am not sure what goes through a child's mind when sitting in my lap, and they can see up my nose. I'm sure I would be horrified to see a long hunk of metal up someone's nostril too. He was no different. His face gasped as he saw up my nose, and like all the little children in my life, he just had to touch it! I laugh and grab his hand. It was time for the story to start, which meant we must listen. He leaned his arm into my lap, and placed his small hand into mine. "The love of God is colorblind," my heart sang, as a reminder of a song I once sung in a gospel choir. In that moment, I was overwhelmed with joy.
The love of God is colorblind. No matter our nationality, background, language, or skin color, God's love for us abounds. He sent His precious Son as a sacrifice for all. Nothing limits His love for us, as He calls us to Himself. I am in awe that He reveals His heart to me, and molds my heart to match His. He blessed me with the opportunity to cross those barriers, and share His unfailing love with those "different" than me -- to be His example.
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