The needs in the slums of Bangkok are immense.  The questions about how to best serve in the slums are endless.  It can feel overwhelming to try to discover what seem like the most pressing felt needs, what the roots of those problems are, how to best work toward solutions without creating dependency, how to balance addressing physical needs with the spiritual…. etc.

And in the midst of this I feel very small and kind of foolish.  I have no advanced degree, very little training in urban work, my health is unpredictable at best, I am not charismatic and I’m not all that great with kids.

But I’m beginning to see that this is all not nearly as important as I tend to believe.  My experience at our house church last week taught me this in a new way.

As usual, we had dozens of children in my house, eager to worship and learn about the Creation story (our theme for the month), and also bouncing off the walls.  I felt particularly exhausted that evening (it turned out that I probably had mono, so no wonder) which made me feel even more ineffective than usual.  Getting the kids to sit and be quiet enough that I could give instructions without screaming was nearly impossible, let alone teaching about God in a way that makes sense to them and is appealing, or addressing their many emotional and physical needs.

In the midst of the chaos, and my tiredness, I felt like God was bringing a couple of the children in particular to my attention.  They were two of the smallest ones, more malnourished, dirtier, more often violent and out-of-control, clearly suffering emotional scars caused at home.

I held each one of them in my lap, and it was like all the turmoil in their little bodies melted away for awhile.  Normally they cannot sit for more than a minute, but these two each spent a good ten minutes without moving as I held them, as if they were starved for this physical touch.

And I’ve recently noticed, more than I did before, how parents and older siblings often push away these little ones when they try to get close, or pretend to not even see them when they return home from work.  The stress and despair their families live under leaves them with little ability to love their youngest members.

I’m beginning to realize that this is something I can give.  I may feel overwhelmed by the extent of the brokenness in my slum, I may feel too tired to play high-energy games with the kids, but I can hold them sometimes.  I can affirm them and pay attention to them and in that way help them to experience a kind of unconditional love that hopefully will lead them to the Source of that love.

And it reminds me this love and this Lover are the most valuable gifts I have to give to this slum.  Something I know in my mind, but which God continues to gracefully teach my heart, with experiences like these.

“… and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” Luke 18:16-17

Last night my house was full of children again for house church. Mostly 6- and 7-year-olds, with a couple older boys. I sometimes wonder what the value of these meetings is, strategically. I mean, if we’re hoping to transfer ownership of this church to locals of the slum, then shouldn’t we mainly be seeking out the adults?

But I was reminded again last night, that God chooses the foolish things to shame the wise, that maybe I should be taking my cues from these little ones, the greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven.

We always open our worship times with prayer, and this time our Thai leader Nim made a point of getting the kids to quiet down and focus on Jesus. “Sit like they teach you to at the Buddhist temples,” she said, which prompted them to sit cross-legged, hands open in the lap and eyes closed. They clearly have some practice in this. “Now listen to Jesus, listen to God.” And she read a psalm and led us in prayer.

Afterwards she asked them “children, did any of you see or hear anything?” “I saw a light” said three or four in unison. “I heard a voice calling my name,” said little 6-year-old Beng, who lives next door and visits me often.

“That’s Jesus, child, that’s Jesus calling you,” Nim said. “And that light is God’s light that you are seeing.”

During our closing prayer time we asked the kids for prayer requests. Often it is difficult to get them to say anything. But this time was different.

“What do you want to ask from God? How do you want him to bless you?” Nim asked.

“I want him to bring my mother back to live with my dad.” “I want him to heal my grandmother.” “I want him to help my father stop drinking.” “I want him to stop the violence down in the south.”

Could it be that these little ones will be the start of a movement here in the slum of Phothong? Could their beautiful faith and earnest prayers be the salt and light here? It would certainly be in the character of a God who has done far more foolish things in the eyes of the world. I know that for me Jesus was a little more real to me last night because of those children. Who’s to say that they aren’t the most “strategic” ones for us to love and invest in?