His name is John. He is 15. His blonde hair and innocent looking eyes draws my attention quickly. I’m here to teach him English. I forgot to take a picture of him before I left.
photo credit: katiew (creative commons)
The country of Transnistria is his home. Russian is his native language, but today we will talk to one another in English.
I ask him if he attends church here. He shakes his head no.
“I don’t go to church,” he says, shaking his head. “I’d rather be with friends.” I smile. He smiles.
Then he pulls his phone out and swipes through pictures that take my breath away.
He sits with his friends, all no older than 15, in a smokey room. There is a picture of the bong. A picture of his friend blowing smoke out of his young mouth. John laughs as he shows me pictures.
I don’t smile. My heart breaks. I ask God for the words.
I’m taken back to my teenage self. I too sat in a room with friends smoking pot, laughing, thinking I was having the best time of my laugh. I remember the moments of “freedom.” The nights of drinking, getting high, giving my body away.
I grab a hold of his arms and shake him, in my mind anyway. Do you see what you’re doing to your life? Open your eyes! Walk away. Run to Jesus! Please run to Jesus.
We talk. The conversation is shallow. Before he leaves I tell him in my best broken Russian, “God loves you.” He is gone.
Does he really know how much God loves him? Does he know there is a better life for him? Has he ever had a childhood? Does he know my heart is breaking watching him walk away without Jesus? Does he know Jesus is weeping over his brokenness?
The face of Caleb, my little cousin, fills my mind. He is 12. The day he came into this world is marked as one of the greatest days of my life. The innocence of his blue eyes captures my heart every time he looks at me. Does he know?
Does he know how much God loves him? Does he know there is a better life for him? Does he know Jesus weeps over his brokenness?
I’m reminded of a broken world as I think about John today. Where is he? What is he doing? Does his father hug him? Does his mother tuck him in at night? The anger in my heart of innocence being stolen wants to pick up that bong and shatter it against the wall.
I want to hold John in my arms and repeat the name of Jesus over and over again. I may not be able to do it with him, but I can do it with Caleb.
I will pray for John. Thank you for sharing and allowing us all to be part of this young mans life.
My spouse and I are praying about adoption. Our hearts ache for so many children who don’t have simple things in life like, hugs, security, food, structure…God.
Thank you TC. May God bless your willingness to adopt and make that child part of your family as God has adopted us into his family.
I just prayed for John – and others like him. I remember once hearing a little orphan boy saying that he just wanted a mom like the one in children’s tylenol commercials – who tucks him in and feels his forehead when her child is sick. That really became a firm image for me of what a loving mom can be to a child. We adopted two orphaned babies while we were missionaries in Ghana. Bless you, Sundi.
Wow! What a wish..
How hard was the adoption process?
i am touched am sure whever he is God words was sowed in his life he will remember Sundi i also pray for other John s