Making Much of God

I have been asking myself the same question all summer long; “Oh Lord, who is like You?” I ask along with the psalmist, along with the child who has seen His mercy, and along with all those who have looked upon the treasures of this life and found that none of them satisfy.

“There is none like God…who rides through the heavens to your help.” (Deut. 33:26)

“Who is a God like you, pardoning iniquity and passing over transgression…” (Micah 7:18)

My first week in Tulsa, I wrote this in my journal—

Tonight Pastor Joe asked me to share my testimony during youth group. I couldn’t say no. A big part of me wanted to—the part that cares what people think, that loves the comfortable & familiar, and the part that doesn’t recall God’s past graces. But I knew He was handing me an opportunity. He was answering my prayer (“Lord, use me”) in a very obvious way.

I remember sharing with those kids that night. I talked to them about living for eternity. There were a few nods and a few note-takers, but what I recall most clearly is the ease and joy I felt while speaking. I had been so anxious before. I had felt helpless and inadequate. It took me physically getting on my knees and pleading with God before I felt ready. I asked Him to be the focus and power behind my words. After that—I simply became an instrument and He, the musician.

That was week one. Once getAHEAD started I realized I would need Him for every moment. The tutoring program at Springs of Grace Bible doesn’t just involve sitting across the table from a single child, helping him/her with math homework. It starts at their door step. We knock and hope they will answer. Some days I’d pick up twelve kids while other days there were only two. I quickly learned that I could have no expectations. I remember little Raymond coming the first day and being so excited. I went to his door for weeks after that, but never saw him again. After helping them scramble for their shoes (if they owned shoes) and getting them buckled into their seats, we took them to the church.

Most mornings my classroom was full by the time I got there. Jillian and I would pass out a snack and we’d catch up with the kids. The majority of my class was made up of twelve and thirteen year-olds. We started every day with a journal question. They got out their notebooks and we’d have them write for fifteen minutes. I loved this time. I loved to watch them write and I especially loved it when they would hand me their journal and let me read what they had written. Chris wrote about going to culinary school in New York someday. Rebecca wrote poem after poem, expressing her thoughts about everything from God to politics. ***** often wrote about her family. I read about her mom who drinks and hits her. ***** wrote, “I love her anyway.” One day the journal prompt was simply: “What is on your mind right now?” That day Marquis wrote about how much he missed his sister. She moved to another state, years ago, to live with their dad. Rineesha always sat in the corner of the classroom, scribbling away. While it comforted me to know she was expressing her emotions, it was difficult to see these young people struggling with issues I could hardly comprehend, let alone live through.

I had ****** for one-on-one time. After my class got out, I’d take her aside and we’d read together. It was obvious that she had a lot on her heart. It took her a while, but little by little she began to open up to me about her life. At fifteen she was already a recovering drug addict and had survived an attempted suicide. I was able to share with her the hope and forgiveness that can be found in Christ. The tears flowed. I saw her smile for the first time. The month flew by, and I soon found myself telling her I had to leave. She was upset. She made it clear that she felt I was abandoning her. But a week later she sent me a letter, and it ended with this:

I wrote this at first because I was mad. Because you did what everyone else has done, but you also did something different. You taught me to love God.

God allowed me to go deep with ******, but I also got to catch glimpses into the lives of other children. I met Rye-rye during one of our Saturday events out at the Comanche apartment complex. The way we met was somewhat unconventional. I was heading to the gym with a few other kids when all the sudden someone hopped up onto my back. I turned my head around to see who it was and saw her un-brushed hair sticking out in all directions and her two missing teeth. The following three hours she stuck to me like glue. We didn’t talk much. I just held her and let her play with my hair. As I was walking her back to her house I prayed that God would save her. I prayed that God would take her up into His arms so she could know true love. I prayed for her as I let go of her little hand.

I realized something as I was drove back from dropping off kids one day. Tay-tay had asked, “Can I come over to your house tonight?” as she got out of my car. And after that, “when can you pick us up tomorrow?” All four children had crowded around my car, making it impossible to drive away. I looked at their faces and realized just how much time, attention and love each child needed. I knew I couldn’t give it to them. I was just one person—and for a moment I felt lost. I gripped the steering wheel and sighed. Then it flooded my heart: “There is none like God…” and reminded me that while I was divided and helpless, He had not lost control. While I was unable to heal ****** or spend more time with Tay-tay, I could leave them in His arms.

Your righteousness, O God, reaches the high heavens. You who have done great things, O God, who is like you? (Psalm 71:19)


Love,

Rachel