Break My Heart for What Breaks Yours

“Lord, break my heart for what breaks Yours.”  How many times have you prayed that?  I’ve prayed it many, many times.  And frankly I’d never given too much thought to what that prayer actually MEANS.   That is until God answered this prayer for me one night in Minter, Alabama in a small A-framed chapel that sits on a lake found on the grounds of an old Sherriff’s Boys Home.  You might know it as SafetyNet Academy.   I was one of only two women there and one of only seven or so total who weren’t staff or residents of SNA.  Randy had gone to serve there a couple of times and had challenged me to go too.  I didn’t want to, but Connie called and asked if I could, she needed help serving pizza.  Little did I know how much that night would forever change my life and my heart. 

God chose that night to truly break my heart for what breaks His.  He wrecked me.  And He did so in the form of a nine year old boy who was lying prostrate on the altar begging God to show him where He had been during some of the worst times in his life and in history.  Imagine this, Kevin is playing worship music.  Some boys are making their way to the altar.  This one child, “C”, had been up and down all night.  His poor little mind wouldn’t allow him to sit still.  His mental and physical issues were just too much.  But at one point during worship, the Holy Spirit helped him make his way to the altar.  He lay down and started crying out to God with every ounce of his being.  “God, where were you the night the men killed my mother?  God where were you the night the men killed my daddy?”  “God I know you’re real, show me you’re real.  I need to know you’re real.  God where were you in Haiti?  God how can you let this happen?”  At some point, Kevin stopped speaking and allowed the Holy Spirit, through the heart of this broken, hurting, nine year old boy, speak for him. 

And God broke my heart for what breaks His.

He allowed me to see “C” the way He sees him.  Broken.  Alone.  Afraid.  Orphaned.  Hungry.  I somehow held it together that night.  And then on the following Monday morning, God reminded me of “C” and all he had gone through.  A song came on the radio, “The Voice of Truth”, and I started to cry.  And I cried for the next three days.  Connie put it best when she said, “It’s the only time I’ve ever grieved for a live child.”  I grieved for “C”.  I grieved for all that had been taken from him and all that he had gone through.  My heart was broken.   God allowed me to see and feel his suffering.   And it was HARD.  Probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through.  It was three years ago and I when I think about it, I still get the same feeling in my spirit.  The hardest part is that “C” had been so damaged by his mother’s drug use and by the abuse he had suffered at the hands of many, many people that his mind could never comprehend Jesus or His free gift of salvation.  I do fully believe God will one day heal him completely in Heaven.  And I am so very thankful for that.

A lot of people have asked me if I’m afraid of going to Thailand.  Whether or not I’m afraid of being away from my family for that long.  If I am afraid of traveling that far by myself.  Am I apprehensive about meeting new people and spending time with them for that long, in those circumstances?  The answer to all of these questions is no.  Not really.  Strangely, I have a peace about these things.  That’s not to say that Satan won’t take a stab at me the closer I get to the date of departure.  But for now, I’m good.

What I am afraid of is God truly breaking my heart for what breaks His while I’m there.  I want so desperately for God to wreck my life totally for Him, but at the same time, I’m scared to death that He will. 

Romans 7:15 anyone? 

I recently read a blog post by Annie Dieselberg, founder of Nightlight International, where she describes meeting a teenage girl in a bar in Bangkok.  The girl was young, maybe 16 or so.  She was hoping to make some quick, easy money for school waiting tables and dancing in the bar.  She indicated that she was a virgin and “didn’t like that kind of thing.”  What she didn’t know is that she was already in debt more than a week’s worth of wages before she stepped in the door just by agreeing to take the job.  She had to pay for the costume, taxi, food, etc.  And a lot of these debts would only increase the longer she stayed there.  In other words, she would most likely NEVER earn any money.  Instead she would spend her time trying to pay off debts.  She would probably be given a month to get familiar with the surroundings and then she would be expected to take on “customers”.  She truly had no clue what she had signed up for.

One image that Annie describes is of her on stage “dancing”.  She had no idea what to do so she just swayed to the music and leaned up against the pole.  She was obviously embarrassed and kept looking to Annie for encouragement or just a kind smile.  She didn’t even know how to wear her bikini-like costume, leaving on her white underwear which peeked out of all sides of her bikini bottoms.  It’s this image that broke my heart.  I can’t get it out of my mind.  God called to mind a time when Syd was about six years old and we were going to the pool.  She had dressed herself and came out of her room with her little white panties peeking out all around her bathing suit bottom.  The pure innocence of a child.  God’s child.

The girl in Bangkok was that innocent too.  A “friend” had told her about this great job where she could make money for school.  She was just trying to better herself and to help out her family. 

I’m afraid to pray for God to totally break my heart while I’m there.  But I'm even more afraid not to.  God, wreck me for You.  Break me for the men, women and children in Thailand.  God, break me for the people there who perpetrate the crimes.  Give me Your strength to see them as You see them.  Use me Lord. 

Please pray for me. 

Oh, and the girl in the bar?  Annie just found out that she left that night and never went back. 

Praise God.