Ravenous

There is a major difference between the children who have been satisfied by His love and those who haven't.

The ones who have are content, and love flows from them.

The ones who haven't are ravenous, and they devour one another for the slightest bit of loving attention.

One example of this happened yesterday at a leper colony in a busy section of Delhi.

I walked in with four of my friends and was swooned away by three or four girls to the very back of the colony. Christ in me was shining and I knew it.

I would be foolish to not say that the only reason they run to me as they do is because of Christ in me. Didn't He say to let the children come? And come they do! I refuse to believe that it is because I have light skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes, or because I "have a way" with kids...which is always relatively determined. It's just Jesus. They see something in Him that makes them come running. They know they are safe with Him.

I also would like to mention that the children here -- especially the begging ones -- are often yelled at and considered a nuisance to society. I imagine that it may have been the same when He told His disciples to just let them come.

Anyway -- there I was, in the middle of bustling Delhi at the back of a leper colony. Men worked the dusty ground behind us. A train passed not many yards away. The highway nearby was easily seen and very easily heard. The sun shone from the Brittany-blue sky and puffy white clouds made my heart happy. I was the only white person in sight, and I really loved that. What I didn't love was how the girls (the number had grown to 7 at this point) hit each other with all their might and pushed each other out of the way to have my full attention.

Their hearts are ravenous for love. They want what I have. I want them to have what I have. So much. It would change everything for them.

They wanted to dance. I showed them some dances and they returned the favor. I ballroom danced with some of them, spinning them around and enjoying the sight of their smile.

One of the girls kept stopping to hold her temples. Her face was etched with pain. I got eye-level with her and prayed for her on my knees while the world zoomed around us and the wind blew our hair. I prayed for her heart to be filled with His love. I prayed in Jesus' name for her pain to cease.

And I prayed for them to slap me instead of each other, just so I could kiss them back. Such love He has shown me.

It didn't happen, but I kissed them anyway.

We spun around -- the kind of spinning where you are facing each other, all four hands locked into a grip that is trusted to keep one or the other from flinging out of the force that intensifies as the spinning gets faster. (I love doing that.)

They made my chunni into a small sari and pulled me ruthlessly in all directions, sometimes simultaneously. They taught me Hindi phrases and I still have no idea what I repeated back to them. I smiled deep into them all and kissed their hands after they used them to hit each other. I prayed and prayed and prayed as I let them take me where they would, and I never knew which way to choose when I was being pulled in two or three different directions. I just wanted them.

I put one girl's hair up with the elastic band on my wrist. I imagined her being adorned with His righteousness and told her in Hindi that she is so beautiful.

There was a woman with leprosy sitting on a ledge nearby. I greeter her and held her hand for a while, smiling into her soul with His love and power. I kissed her head and hands and just sat in silence with her while the girls had stopped tugging on me. When they began again, I kissed her again, and let them lead me wherever they wished.

I was beaming with a smile the whole time. Just resting. Just being. Just letting Him love me and love them. Enjoying His restorative, gracious Self.

I adore Jesus so much. I saw Him in their eyes, staring back at me.

There is nothing like that.