Rejection

Never trust a youth pastor. Mine invited me to come on the youth missions trip, promising me I would have fun. Sleeping on an air mattress in a hot church basement five nights in a row didn't exactly sound fun; but since three of my own teens were signed up to go, I thought I should do my part. Besides, my suffering for Jesus lately had been grabbing a Chai Tea Latte at Starbucks with friends from church. (Gotta love friendship ministry.) It was time to do a little more.

The first day I was assigned to teach ten 5-year-olds. Sounds as sweet as Chai tea, right? Wrong. It was so crazy the woman on staff left after an hour. "I just have to," she said. The kids were out of control.

I'm used to being loved by kids. Larry says that wherever Heather goes, kids follow. Maybe it's because I'm such a spectacle. (With a malformed arm and missing digits on my right hand, due to a car accident, kids usually love to get into long, theological conversations about the marvel of being able to pick up a pencil with two fingers.) But I think it's really because I love them so much, and they know it.

These kids, however, knocked the confidence out of me. They didn't like me. One boy kept looking at me as if I were something you find at the bottom of a toilet, saying, "Disgusting. Disgusting." Another one ran screaming out of the classroom every time I approached, terrified I would touch her. (I considered threatening to touch them if they didn't behave, but I refrained.)

It wasn't "fun."

The next morning I read about Moses who was overwhelmed by God's call to him to save the Israelites—and how he did it anyway. It was enough to get me going. God would equip me to care for these kids. Besides, it wasn't about how much the kids loved me; it was about giving glory to God.

When we arrived, a little boy named Mikael walked over to me. "I'm not afraid of your hand," he said. "I'll be your friend." He held my hand all day, and bit by bit the other kids became less afraid of me. And they began to listen. And we sang songs and played games and wrote words and read books. Soon, they clamored to hold both my hands.

It felt good to be accepted again, but that's not what gave me so much joy. I saw hope for these kids, and I knew God would raise up leaders in this heart-breaking community to bring restoration—beginning with Mikael. And I told him that. "You are a great person, Mikael. You saw a need, and you helped. Keep doing the right thing, no matter how much pressure you feel to do the wrong thing, and God will use you in a powerful way."

He smiled. "I helped you," he said, "and you helped me."

I guess that's how God works. Thank goodness the youth pastor tricked me.