Breaking, Entering and Kidnapping... for the Love of Jesus!
Each culture has a unique way of accomplishing life's daily tasks: eating, sleeping, laundering clothes, educating children. Amidst those differences I have found a universal truth: When guests are scheduled to arrive there is a predictable flurry of activity - items are put away, blankets folded and shoes straightened. Such a flurry swept through our home a couple weeks ago as we prepared for an evening of praise and worship with the drug addicted teenage boys in our village. Glancing at the clock I realized it was time to light candles and tune the guitar.
KNOCK - KNOCK - KNOCK!
Furious pounding broke the mellow mood.
Opening the door I was greeted by the neighbor boys who were talking a hundred miles an hour trying to explain their worries:
- the neighbor lady left almost 3 hours prior
- she locked her baby in the house
- the baby's been wailing for 2 1/2 hours
- the house is pad-locked shut
- the window is covered in wire mesh and wood planks
- nobody knows when she's going to return
- the baby is in danger
When they finally stopped talking they peered up at me with hopeful eyes and said, "Surely there is something you can do!"
|Trust in the Lord with all your heart, |
and do not lean on your own understanding."
...unless of course some part of the house were to fall off or something crazy like that!
|"And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, |
"This is the way, walk in it." Isaiah 30:21
In Galatians 5:18 St. Paul says that "If (we) are led by the Spirit, (we) are not under the law." I'm not sure if he was referring to breaking, entering and kidnapping, but we felt led by the Spirit to rescue the baby when the house literally fell open.
I stepped from the moon-lit yard into the pitch black house. I blinked ten times trying to get my eyes to adjust, like my mom always taught me, but to no avail. Since I couldn't see a thing I inched my way along until I came upon a lean-to of sorts which covered the screaming baby. I assume that the tent was intended to keep the bugs out, which it did, but it also kept the heat in. When I moved the sheet, the horrid stench that escaped almost made me vomit. The baby was wrapped in a cloth that was drenched with his own sweat, urine and feces. I gently carried him across the room and handed the little bundle out of the secret passageway to my friend. She quickly returned to my house to bathe the infant, treat his rash, put him in a diaper and wrap him in a clean towel. I recovered the wallboard and refastened it to the side of the house. Shortly thereafter the baby's mom arrived and entered her home. I expected an audible sign of distress when she realized that her little boy was missing, but she hardly responded. She left quietly, locked the door, dropped her head and shuffled away. I caught up to her and explained that her baby was with my friend. Without asking how I had gotten into the house or hardly saying a word she changed directions and unemotionally stated that she wanted her baby back. At my house she removed the clean towel, threw it down, put the urine soaked sheet back around her child and mumbled, "My baby was fine!" As she was leaving, the guys started arriving for our candlelit evening of worship. They each found a comfy place to sit, got settled in and listened peacefully to Chris strum the guitar. As I looked around the room Isaiah 61:1 came to mind:
Tears welled up in my eye as I offered silent prayers of thanksgiving for everything that the Lord has been able to do through us....bring good news to the poor, proclaim liberty to those held captive by their own drug addictions, and free the imprisoned little baby from the prison which is his home. I ask for prayers, that we're able to remain open to the Spirit of the Lord God, so that He can continue using us for breaking, entering and kidnapping - if He so desires.
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