Walking with fifteen year-old Luis to buy a coke, our neighborhood Cinderella spots us and runs over to give me a hug.
“That guirra called me a @#$%! last night!” our not-so-clean-mouthed-himself Micah boy rats out the currently sweet-dispositioned 12 year-old.
I ignore him and return her kind greeting. Once we pass by I ask, “Luis, in fairytales where there are dragons, treasures, knights… where are the princesses?”
“In castles,” the Micah boy answers as he shrugs his man-body shoulders.
“Trapped, right?” I ask; he nods. “And what does the knight have to do?”
“Fight the dragon,” he responds.
“Right! The treasure is hidden behind the dragon. The knight has to fight for it,” I say, then add. “There is a treasure inside of that girl—“
Before I have a chance to finish my thought, Luis finishes my sentence with an awe over his own discovery, “--she just hasn’t been saved yet.”
“Exactly.”
She just hasn’t been saved yet.
This past weekend, 14-year old Axel gave into his inner dragon. Deceived by his selfishness and pride, he lashed out violently against our youngest: little Marco. Beating up on the only kid here that he has the ability to overpower.
And so, of course, when I see this violent exchange I give Axel a firm, “NO!” I’m okay with turning my own cheek, but I’m not okay with that cheek belonging to the most-vulnerable heart who is slowly, slowly beginning to trust us here. Aware I am not very effective in this situation, I seek help from a male educator. (When the Bible says that women are the 'weaker partner', I have no problem admitting my obvious lack of physical strength. I need a strong man to intervene in this case.)
Leaving an incredibly P-O’d Axel in another’s hands, I escape to my room to pray. My heart is torn between Marco and Axel—currently enemies of each other, but both loved by me… more importantly, both loved by God. Feeling utterly helpless, unsure how even to proceed—I release the boys into the Lord’s hands. Remembering that he is a Good Father and knows how to work in both of their lives, in his perfect way and timing.
The next few days pass with an ever-festering chip on Axel’s shoulder against tattle-tell me. I know deep down he’s actually angry with himself. For the anger he can’t control. And since he isn’t strong enough to control it, he seeks a cop-out version of ‘strength’ to mask the shame of this weakness: anger, violence, hate. Maybe just maybe then he’ll feel like a man. Threatening words, yelling for me to get out of his face, name-calling, raised fists… But, by the grace of God, I don’t even flinch. His ‘strength’—even the fake kind—isn’t working.
As the new week begins, the time comes for my 40-minute one-one-one time scheduled with Axel while the other boys are in school. Walking to the Micah house with a few books and games in my arms, I see our House Coordinator, Paty. I ask her for prayer and she gently encourages me before assuring me that she’ll be in prayer. I want to make the most of my time with Axel... though I am not sure how.
As I approach the currently fuming boy, Axel sees me and immediately stomps away with a few choice words. Marco’s current one-on-one helper sees the incident and nervously tells me about how Axel pulled a knife on her last Friday. Instead of surrendering to the fear, I ask her to pray with me. And so we do. Her hands in mine, I pray for his heart. Even as I speak, a shoe is thrown at us, but I can’t help but smile. Maybe just maybe, Axel is listening to this prayer over him—for the Lord’s love to enter his walled-up heart.
Allowing Axel some time to cool off, I begin to wash a few dishes. Axel apparently is over his alone-time, and quickly runs over to give me a gentle-kick—controlled enough to show that he isn’t intending to hurt me, just frighten me. But he can’t. The Lord is with me, and I have no vulnerable treasure to protect in this situation. No bullied child who needs Momma bear. Just me. And my treasure—my heart—already belongs fully to the Lord. Long ago, the Lord rescued me from my own inner dragons. I was angry and bitter and hateful like this kid once, too. But thanks to my Rescuer, I know I’m protected. He has saved me, and I am hopeful that he is in the process of saving this one’s heart, too.
So I look at him and smile playfully, “I’m not afraid. You're my compañero!”
"Friend? Ha!" He says and walks off. But even so I can tell, something has started to break in him. He has no power here…
A few minutes later, Axel decides to clean up the living room. Sweeping. Mopping. Will cleaning up my mess make me stop hating myself for making it? But this attempt to fix things hasn't had the effect he likely desired. He can't rescue himself. His dragons haven't flown away.
Post-room cleaning, I pass through a glass door and hear the wind whistle past my ear, the sound of glass shattering by my side, and a wicked laugh a few feet in front of me. Axel has just thrown little Marco’s wet-with-paint glass ornament in my direction, splaying glass and paint all around me. But other than paint, nothing has touched me. Not even a shard. Even more impressively—by the utter grace of God and the power of his Spirit—I still haven’t flinched. Patience. Grace.
Other staff members come around, encouraging him to help clean his made-mess. As he surrenders and joins us in the sweep, his anger already starts wearing out. His defenses seem to be shattering as much as the glass we are sweeping. Nothing, no nothing has chased us away. Through his people, the Lord has been pursuing this boy's dragon-protected heart from every angle.
“There is a treasure inside of that girl—“
Before I have a chance to finish my thought, Luis finishes my sentence with an awe over his own discovery, “--she just hasn’t been saved yet.”
“Exactly.”
She just hasn’t been saved yet.
Somewhere along the line, it seems that humanity has begun to buck up against the idea of ‘salvation’. My sucker-for-a-fairytale heart wonders: Why?!?! Where has our sense of rescue, adventure, heroism, and romance gone? Why do we look at our Savior and think ‘how cruel for him to tell us that we’re trapped in a tower, deceived by the dragon!' when we ARE!? As if him telling us our need was what trapped us in the first place? We already are trapped—without him, that is. Deceived. In need of rescue. But the set-up of the story is never its end. The trapped tower part is only the beginning. Our Prince has a plan—an epic story that he will see through to the end.
Our Savior, Jesus Christ, defeated death and darkness all in pursuit of his bride. Paying the price. Making a dragon-deceived wretch his beloved treasure. He did it for me! No, I'm not saying that I am now perfect by any means. There are still dragons to be fought off in me, but I know the Lord has the victory. And he finishes what he starts. And now I pray, that he saves these boys, too. In the meantime, I'll keep loving them--by the Lord's strength. With hope--knowing that salvation belongs to the Lord! And that is very, very Good News, for he is mighty to save.
“That guirra called me a @#$%! last night!” our not-so-clean-mouthed-himself Micah boy rats out the currently sweet-dispositioned 12 year-old.
I ignore him and return her kind greeting. Once we pass by I ask, “Luis, in fairytales where there are dragons, treasures, knights… where are the princesses?”
“In castles,” the Micah boy answers as he shrugs his man-body shoulders.
“Trapped, right?” I ask; he nods. “And what does the knight have to do?”
“Fight the dragon,” he responds.
“Right! The treasure is hidden behind the dragon. The knight has to fight for it,” I say, then add. “There is a treasure inside of that girl—“
Before I have a chance to finish my thought, Luis finishes my sentence with an awe over his own discovery, “--she just hasn’t been saved yet.”
“Exactly.”
She just hasn’t been saved yet.
This past weekend, 14-year old Axel gave into his inner dragon. Deceived by his selfishness and pride, he lashed out violently against our youngest: little Marco. Beating up on the only kid here that he has the ability to overpower.
And so, of course, when I see this violent exchange I give Axel a firm, “NO!” I’m okay with turning my own cheek, but I’m not okay with that cheek belonging to the most-vulnerable heart who is slowly, slowly beginning to trust us here. Aware I am not very effective in this situation, I seek help from a male educator. (When the Bible says that women are the 'weaker partner', I have no problem admitting my obvious lack of physical strength. I need a strong man to intervene in this case.)
Leaving an incredibly P-O’d Axel in another’s hands, I escape to my room to pray. My heart is torn between Marco and Axel—currently enemies of each other, but both loved by me… more importantly, both loved by God. Feeling utterly helpless, unsure how even to proceed—I release the boys into the Lord’s hands. Remembering that he is a Good Father and knows how to work in both of their lives, in his perfect way and timing.
The next few days pass with an ever-festering chip on Axel’s shoulder against tattle-tell me. I know deep down he’s actually angry with himself. For the anger he can’t control. And since he isn’t strong enough to control it, he seeks a cop-out version of ‘strength’ to mask the shame of this weakness: anger, violence, hate. Maybe just maybe then he’ll feel like a man. Threatening words, yelling for me to get out of his face, name-calling, raised fists… But, by the grace of God, I don’t even flinch. His ‘strength’—even the fake kind—isn’t working.
As the new week begins, the time comes for my 40-minute one-one-one time scheduled with Axel while the other boys are in school. Walking to the Micah house with a few books and games in my arms, I see our House Coordinator, Paty. I ask her for prayer and she gently encourages me before assuring me that she’ll be in prayer. I want to make the most of my time with Axel... though I am not sure how.
As I approach the currently fuming boy, Axel sees me and immediately stomps away with a few choice words. Marco’s current one-on-one helper sees the incident and nervously tells me about how Axel pulled a knife on her last Friday. Instead of surrendering to the fear, I ask her to pray with me. And so we do. Her hands in mine, I pray for his heart. Even as I speak, a shoe is thrown at us, but I can’t help but smile. Maybe just maybe, Axel is listening to this prayer over him—for the Lord’s love to enter his walled-up heart.
Allowing Axel some time to cool off, I begin to wash a few dishes. Axel apparently is over his alone-time, and quickly runs over to give me a gentle-kick—controlled enough to show that he isn’t intending to hurt me, just frighten me. But he can’t. The Lord is with me, and I have no vulnerable treasure to protect in this situation. No bullied child who needs Momma bear. Just me. And my treasure—my heart—already belongs fully to the Lord. Long ago, the Lord rescued me from my own inner dragons. I was angry and bitter and hateful like this kid once, too. But thanks to my Rescuer, I know I’m protected. He has saved me, and I am hopeful that he is in the process of saving this one’s heart, too.
So I look at him and smile playfully, “I’m not afraid. You're my compañero!”
"Friend? Ha!" He says and walks off. But even so I can tell, something has started to break in him. He has no power here…
A few minutes later, Axel decides to clean up the living room. Sweeping. Mopping. Will cleaning up my mess make me stop hating myself for making it? But this attempt to fix things hasn't had the effect he likely desired. He can't rescue himself. His dragons haven't flown away.
Post-room cleaning, I pass through a glass door and hear the wind whistle past my ear, the sound of glass shattering by my side, and a wicked laugh a few feet in front of me. Axel has just thrown little Marco’s wet-with-paint glass ornament in my direction, splaying glass and paint all around me. But other than paint, nothing has touched me. Not even a shard. Even more impressively—by the utter grace of God and the power of his Spirit—I still haven’t flinched. Patience. Grace.
Other staff members come around, encouraging him to help clean his made-mess. As he surrenders and joins us in the sweep, his anger already starts wearing out. His defenses seem to be shattering as much as the glass we are sweeping. Nothing, no nothing has chased us away. Through his people, the Lord has been pursuing this boy's dragon-protected heart from every angle.
“There is a treasure inside of that girl—“
Before I have a chance to finish my thought, Luis finishes my sentence with an awe over his own discovery, “--she just hasn’t been saved yet.”
“Exactly.”
She just hasn’t been saved yet.
Somewhere along the line, it seems that humanity has begun to buck up against the idea of ‘salvation’. My sucker-for-a-fairytale heart wonders: Why?!?! Where has our sense of rescue, adventure, heroism, and romance gone? Why do we look at our Savior and think ‘how cruel for him to tell us that we’re trapped in a tower, deceived by the dragon!' when we ARE!? As if him telling us our need was what trapped us in the first place? We already are trapped—without him, that is. Deceived. In need of rescue. But the set-up of the story is never its end. The trapped tower part is only the beginning. Our Prince has a plan—an epic story that he will see through to the end.
Our Savior, Jesus Christ, defeated death and darkness all in pursuit of his bride. Paying the price. Making a dragon-deceived wretch his beloved treasure. He did it for me! No, I'm not saying that I am now perfect by any means. There are still dragons to be fought off in me, but I know the Lord has the victory. And he finishes what he starts. And now I pray, that he saves these boys, too. In the meantime, I'll keep loving them--by the Lord's strength. With hope--knowing that salvation belongs to the Lord! And that is very, very Good News, for he is mighty to save.
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