Our Father's heart for the poor and needy

Today, i cried again. Even as i am typing this, ceaseless tears are still rolling down.
Why, i ask the Lord, Why? Somehow it seems like my heart is torn, stabbed, broken.

No. This time it wasn't tears of loneliness, fears, frustrations nor anger. It was tears of petitions and pleads.

I was listening to an audio sermon titled 'Helping the poor and needy'. The pastor was sharing about our Father's heart for the poor and needy and the church's community service projects in Singapore. Suddenly, images of the Cambodian villagers – the poor, needy and forgotten flashed before me. Endless tears started streaming down. Why God? I asked. Why? Have you forgotten your children in this land? Where is the help, the social agencies for them? Father, have mercy and extend your grace to us, to the people here.

Cambodia. I had grown to fall in love with the land, with the people. Unknowingly, in the midst of my journey here for the last 2 years, i had subconsciously learned to see beyond their adversities. I see beyond their pains, strength. I see beyond their materialistic poverty, capacity for simple joys. I see beyond their struggles, resilience.I had learned humility.

I was in the village last week where i witnessed the struggles of a family.

A mother's tears.

In my four days staying over in the village, she hasn't changed her clothes nor had a single bath. Her eldest 17 year old son was 'demon possessed' or so the villagers claimed. He was perfectly fine prior and simply snapped after a fever one day. He was violent. He was tied to a bamboo table 24 hours a day. There were scars of self injuries and stretch marks (from the tying)all over his body. In other words, he was unkempt, dirty. In the family's already dire financial state, she had in addition to care for her mentally unsound husband (suspected schizophrenia), and a younger 6 year old son. ( 2 of her middle children were already in the orphanage. We had brought them back to visit their parents for the Khmer New Year.). Tears. She was broken. When I saw her son being tied to the table, my heart cried out to God.

Father, have mercy, extend your grace. Help them, Father. Ease their pains, comfort them. Be their strength.

A son's prayers.

We prayed for him, for the family. Her son actually repeated the words ( in Khmer) numerous times as we prayed, “ Jesus, help me, Jesus, help me.”

Holy Spirit, be with him, be with this family. Help him.

A father's offer.

Dinner in the district hospital. The family barely had enough food for their meals and depended largely on the goodwill of neighbours for their daily provision.
“Have you had your dinner?” asked the father.” Come, join me.”. He offered without calculation, without hesitation.

Father, teach me to do the same.

A brother's arm

We took the youngest 6 year old son back with us in the orphanage. His entire materialistic possession – the pair of faded, torn shorts on his bottoms ( without undergarment) and his overgrown slippers. As we journey on our 6 hour lorry journey back, his elder 14 year old brother simply placed his arm protectively and lovingly over his younger brother. Father, what a sight - such love, such warmth.

Father, teach me to love the poor, the needy, the forgotten. - to love with Your Heart, with such passion and love that comes from you.

Father, teach me to pray for this family, for this land.

" Defend the cause of the weak and fatherless; maintain the rights of the poor and oppressed.
Rescue the weak and needy;
deliver them from the hand of the wicked." Psalm 82: 3 - 4