A couple of weeks ago when I was interviewed about my years with Texas Baptist Children's Home and Children At Heart Ministries, I was asked what happened that I would never forget. As part of my answer, I referenced a story shared with the Children at Heart board by a foster/adoptive parent from STARRY, an affiliate corporation.
The man was pastor of a church and his ability as a public speaker was undeniable. As he shared his story, he held my full attention. He made the statement: "We heard the hurt of children, and it broke our hearts."
The imagery he shared was powerful. I had never heard that expression before. I've heard "see the hurt", but never "hear the hurt."
At one point in the foster-to-adopt process, the man and his wife weren't sure they could complete the process. They were really struggling. What if the child placed in their home didn't subsequently become available for adoption? What if the child was returned to their biological parent(s)? How would that feel? It would be agonizingly painful. Separation and loss are difficult issues. Could they handle that as a family? They weren't sure they were willing to take the risk.
The next week in the middle of his Sunday sermon, the foster/adoptive parent pastor, referenced a verse from Ephesians: "God decided in advance to adopt us into his own family by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ. This is what he wanted to do, and it gave him great pleasure" [Ephesians 1:5].
The simple reading of that Scripture served as a George Whitfield kind of "great awakening" moment for him personally. The vivid awareness of God's presence totally captivated his attention, and he was overwhelmed as he thought about the sacrifice God made through the death of His son to adopt him. He said he started weeping and couldn't stop. Somehow, he eventually managed to articulate, "We're done". He walked out of the church, and he went home.
That was an undeniable turning point in his life. He recognized God's direct call on his life to meet the unmet needs of a child. If he got hurt in the process, so be it. He'd eventually get over it. His was a sense of urgency. A child needed a home.
I was teary eyed as listened to his story. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I contemplated how different our lives could be if we were simply open to the Divine appointments God has for us. How often do we become so self-absorbed in our own interests that we are blinded to the needs of others?
Matthew 13:15 describes it this way: "For this people's heart has become calloused; they hardly hear with their ears, and they have closed their eyes. Otherwise, they might see with their eyes, hear with their ears, understand with their hearts and turn, and I would heal them.' (Matthew 13:15)
Let me ask these questions:
▪ "How different would your life be if you could listen with your eyes and see others as they really are"?
▪ How different would your life be if you could hear the hurt of people in need?
▪ How different would your life be if you had an awakening of his Spirit that that prompted you to see others with eyes of compassion?
▪ What difference would you make in the lives of your friends if you had the ability to provide the gift of compassion?
Chuck Swindoll expresses the thought a little differently. "It happened in a large, seventy-five-year-old stone house on the west side of Houston. A massive stairway led up to several bedrooms. The den down below was done in rough-hewn boards with soft leather chairs and a couple of matching sofas. The wet bar had been converted into a small library, including a shelf of tape recordings and a multiple speaker sound system. It was the ideal place to spend a weekend. Unfortunately, my wife and I were there just for the evening…the host, a lifelong Christian friend, leaned his broad shoulders against the mantle as he told of the bass that got away last week. While the guys chided him loudly for exaggerating ("it had to weigh ten to twelve pounds!"), my eyes ran a horizontal path across he carved message on the mantle. The room was too dark to read what it said from where I sat. I was intrigued and strangely drawn from my overstuffed chair to get a closer look.
"I ran my fingers along the outline of each letter as my lips silently formed the words:
'IF YOUR HEART IS COLD
MY FIRE CANNOT WARM IT'
"Fireplaces don't warm hearts. Neither does the fine furniture nor a four-car garage nor a full stomach nor a job with a six-figure salary. No, a cold heart can be warmed only by the fire of the living God"
All My Best!
Don
