I spent time with a little boy today that I’d only seen one time before. As we pulled up to the house, he and his older cousins were going to draw some water for their family of 6. As the truck came to a stop, and we stepped out, he ran to greet me with a hug. His little arms not even wrapping around my legs, I realize I could stand to start working out more. You see this little boy is only three years old. His family of six consists of his older sister who is 6, his 4 older cousins who are 18, 13, and twins of 7 years and him. These 6, “the six pack” as we’ve come to know them, are orphaned. The four oldest kid’s mother died not long after the twin girls were born, and the little boy and his sister’s mother is still living, but chooses not to be with them. She left them with the granny, who did not feed them, take them to the clinic when they were sick, or do anything beneficial for these kid’s lives. So now the “six pack” live together and alone in a house built just for them by a missionary family who loves them very much.
Recently 3 “priests” from a cult entered their home. They stayed in the house and ate the food that was there for the kids. These priests believe in and probably practice witchcraft, and other things that I do not care to think about at this particular time. So today, we’ve come to talk to the 18 year old boy, the leader of the household, the one who let the 3 priests in. As a well trusted friend and area pastor talks to the oldest, the little boy sits right beside me, with his little arm using my leg as an armrest. He then starts running his little index finger over my hand, as I lay my palm out flat before him he sticks his little hand in mine makes his way to my thumb and latches on. I then close my hand around his and begin a simple but fervent prayer. I pray that God would touch this little boy, that he would come to know Him, and that these little hands that were grasping mine would one day soon turn into the hands of God. About that time he scratches his head that is obviously unhealthy do to a lack of upkeep and good nutrition, and my prayer turns to his health physically (you see he’s been sick recently) and mentally (who knows what witchcraft he’s been exposed too). About this time, while still holding my hand, he gazes up at me with those big brown eyes, and I pray that these eyes would see the world and people the same way that God sees them, and as he starts to smile, I pray that he would bring the joy of Christ to all that he comes into contact with. About this time, he stands up to push himself further on the couch, and as I look at his feet which are dirty and spotted with sores, I pray that his feet soon start walking the path that God has set out for him, that he doesn’t veer off to the left or to the right. He yawns, and leans his little head against my arm, which I then put around his shoulder. My prayer then asks that he would have the strength to carry the weight that is going to be put upon his shoulders. That he would be a God fearing boy, and would have great faith that his (or mine…or your) generation is yet to see.
So I ask, parents, do you pray for your children? Highschooler, do you pray for that little kid that looks so passionately up to you? Sisters do you pray for your brothers? Brothers do you pray for your sisters? Husbands do you pray for your wives? Wives do you pray for your husbands? Pastor, do you pray for your congregation? Congregation, do you pray for your pastor? Employee, do you pray for your employer? Employer, do you pray for your employee? You see the power of prayer is, strong if you exercise it, but unused it’s as useful as that gym membership that you don’t use.
Moral of the Story: There’s always something to pray for, so exercise!
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