Suffering Little Children Part One

2 Timothy 2:1-10 esv

1 You then, my child, be strengthened by the grace that is in Christ Jesus,

3 Share in suffering as a good soldier of Christ Jesus.

4 No soldier gets entangled in civilian pursuits, since his aim is to please the one who enlisted him.

5 An athlete is not crowned unless he competes according to the rules.

6 It is the hard-working farmer who ought to have the first share of the crops.

7 Think over what I say, for the Lord will give you understanding in everything.

8 Remember Jesus Christ, risen from the dead, the offspring of David, as preached in my gospel,

9 for which I am suffering, bound with chains as a criminal. But the word of God is not bound!

10 Therefore I endure everything ...

I am very blessed. I have been so favored by God to see the world at such a young age.

Often I meet young men and women who desire to travel, to experience different cultures and countries but the necessities of life hinder them. I have seen things that will forever change the way I look at my life.

I had a instructor in college (Jim Sleeva) that would repeat the saying "exposure breeds a burden" at the end of all of his lectures and I firmly believe all that he said to be true.

The world is really a beautiful place, full of wonders that my mind cannot imagine or even grasp. Some of my experiences include: standing atop a hill in the African jungle and watching the sun set, bringing with it a mist that settled like a gray floor beneath the elevation where I stood. I have removed my shoes and walked into the splendor of the Taj Mahal, one of the wonders of the world. I have laughed (in horror) with friends as we removed leeches from our legs after crossing a river to get to church. These are some of the wonderful memories that we take with us on our continuing journey of life. These are mine and I am sure that each of you have been blessed with different yet similarly defining moments that have shaped your life and journey.

Yet not all passions and burdens are born of joy and happiness. Many are seared into our mind's eye out of need and devastation. Try as I might, there is one image that I cannot remove, so haunting an image that I carry with me as I write today.

In the republic of India there is a system in place known to us as the Caste system. What this means is that people are defined before they are born, their life path is planned out for them. If they are more to an impoverished group or caste, they will likely remain in poverty for the rest of their lives. They cannot escape their destiny which all to often becomes a cruel fate worse than death. To those children born of the lowest class, those deemed untouchables or now known as slumdogs, life consists of stealing and starvation, pain and untold suffering. They are cursed to roam the streets and byways of the nation begging for substance while there cries and pleas are willfully and dutifully ignored.

I cannot forget the feeling of being surrounds by scores of these young boys and girls, no bigger than my young niece Hayley, covered from in grime and stained with dirt. The clothes on their backs being their only worldly possession, they stare intently through their big white eyes under matted filthy hair. They have no problem looking you in the eyes. They accept who they are and their role in society, and no they are not too proud to beg. The speak quickly in multiple tones from languages even fluent Hindi speaker cannot understand, pausing only to cup their outstretched hands to their mouth as the universal symbol, "I need to eat."

India was a beautiful place filled with wonder and majesty, yet for many people, it is tainted by the lasting image of poverty that dilutes all its splendor. I remember the words of Jesus to his disciples, "Suffer the little children." and I wonder if these were the children that Jesus was talking about. These suffering little children were allowed to come to Jesus? They were allowed to talk to Jesus? Allowed to sit on His lap and play with His beard? They could come just as they were and Jesus would find time for them?

And then it hit me. We are no one different from one another, we are all suffering little children.

Depressing way to end... the story should continue...