Why We Do What We Do
A Holy Place
(Tony Brewer's Testimony)
"Would you like to see the village orphanage?" asked a friend who I was visiting in a poor, Asian country many years ago. "Yes," I said quickly. It would be my first visit to an orphanage and I had a strong desire to go. "Come on," she replied.
The three-story orphanage building was plain - constructed of unpainted concrete blocks and shaped as a rectangle. Nothing about it seemed important. Still, although the building was unimpressive, I felt that God had something special for me there.
After entering, we climbed the stairway that immediately presented itself and exited onto the second floor. There, an official led us half-way down the dark center hallway and into a side room.
As I looked around the colorless room, I saw several baby beds. Most were empty. But my attention was drawn to one bed that wasn't empty. I couldn't make out details. Curiously, I walked to the bed.
What, or rather who, I saw there stunned me. There lay a child who looked to be 7 or 8 years old - a girl - who I later learned was 15. She stared at me with vacant eyes. Crusty mucus congregated in the corner of each eye - hardened and sharp. She was painfully thin - with arms like matchsticks. Flies swarmed around her head and occasionally landed near the crusty mucus. She hadn't the strength to shoo them away.
Cloth "ropes" were tied to each arm and leg - with the other end of the "rope" anchored to the bed so she couldn't get up. Whoever devised the bonds needn't have worried - she hadn't the strength to get up even if left unbound.
Stunned, all I could do was pray. I touched her, prayed silently for her, rubbed her cold skin, prayed out loud for her, made contact with those vacant eyes. But most of all, I prayed. For 5-10 minutes, I prayed. God's very presence seemed to come. It was a holy moment at a holy place. And then it was time to leave.
That day marked me. But there have been other holy moments since.
Those holy moments come when we are enabled to be vessels for God to pour His Love through us to others. Through us - through jars of clay - He touches the untouched, He loves the unloved, He comforts the widow, He becomes a father to the fatherless. As the Patriarch Job said: "I was eyes to the blind and feet to the lame. The blessing of the dying man came upon me and I made the widow's heart sing for joy."
We're so glad to be part of His plan to love people and bring them to Jesus.