Holy Ground
Years ago, I had the privilege of travelling to Bolivia with my son John Jr. and friends from our church on a mission trip to reach out to young boys at an orphanage. We were an eclectic group of people —our ages ranged from teenagers to some who were retired, and everything in between. Some spoke Spanish, which was so helpful, while others did not. Some were gifted at building and painting which proved to be helpful to the orphanage, while others did not. The only skill I felt confident to bring to the mix was that of loving children. However, it proved to be enough.
I wondered at first how we would work together as a team, but I quickly learned that what bound us together was far greater than the differences among us. Our common thread was love—big, abundant love of God and the immediate love we all felt for these young orphan boys.
When the bus that drove us from the airport an hour away pulled into the orphanage on our first day, the boys—63 in all—ran out into the grassy yard when we pulled in to arrive. As we unloaded, the boys began jumping up and down, smiling, laughing and greeting us with warm hugs. We had never met these children before, but their hearts were so filled with gratitude and excitement that they were overjoyed at our arrival. To this day, the memory melts my heart.
After a few days it became clear that each of us had one specific child that gravitated toward us in a special way. We loved them all, but each of us developed a “favorite” simply because God bound our hearts together. The young boy who stuck to me like glue for the entire ten days was Jhosmar. He was nine years old with beautiful olive skin, a mop of jet-black hair and chocolate-drop eyes.
One afternoon, I encountered Jhosmar playing alone in the rather barren courtyard. He did not own any toys or sports equipment. He was simply scavenging around picking up different odd pieces of trash that had been discarded out in the yard. I began to help him by retrieving a few interesting pieces of litter to add to his collection. We worked quietly together, not speaking, but gathering the odd items we stumbled upon.
Jhosmar then began constructing. He used a chunk of torn Styrofoam as a base, and carefully added to it old jar lids, rocks, bark, a tiny wooden spool, popsicle sticks and a piece of ripped plastic. Amazingly, it all came together in a beautiful way. He stood back to admire his creation, and took great pride, saying, “Mi Casa.” My house. My heart ripped in two.
The irony of the moment struck me. I was standing on holy ground. This little boy was emulating what our Creator God had done in his own young life. Two years earlier, at age seven, Jhosmar and his little brother had watched their father kill their mother. Their father then drove the boys to a park and dropped them off on a bench—discarding them forever—just like the trash that littered the courtyard.
Jhosmar knows deep within his soul that God can take what has been discarded and fashion it to create something beautiful. The loving staff at the orphanage rescued Jhosmar and his brother and filled them with God’s love, protection and hope. They have taught the boys that they are precious in God’s sight—that they are of significant value.
It is no wonder that when Jesus described the bliss of Heaven, where we will one day bask in God’s eternal presence, He used a metaphor of a home. “In my Father’s house are many rooms…and I am going to prepare a place for you.” (John 14:2)
Jhosmar received the gift of living in a beautiful, big home with 62 other orphan brothers. He experiences daily doses of love and hope to help him overcome his heartbreaking past. But one day, I know that Jhosmar will know the glory and grandeur of the greatest casa of all time—a heavenly home with his Savior God.
I am grateful to Jhosmar for teaching me to recognize when I am standing on holy ground. God’s presence can reach down in the most unlikely places, and we need to use our spiritual senses to see His hand. Our hearts and minds need to quicken to His voice and pay attention to His work.