But my dear Dunkan said, "No. I don't pray."
I almost died.
He had only been in the home for a few days at that point. So with the man's judgmental stare killing me slowly, I explained how he just came of the street and hurried to the next question.
And sure enough at devotions that night, he didn't pray.
He didn't listen.
He didn't seem to care.
I don't know how I never noticed it before.
He didn't believe in God.
I couldn't be angry. I couldn't even blame him. The thought of someone that sees everything and knows everything and loves you anyway is hard to comprehend when you aren't struggling each day to survive, let alone when you are. I am sure we have all been there when we are at a point and think our lives are over and we can't take anymore and we get angry at God.
That point is EVERYDAY for a boy living on the streets. Each day he is abused and beaten, treated like less than trash, arrested and chased for no reason, forced to steal to eat, and turns to drugs to escape.
Each day, he falls asleep cold and alone and thinks he can't take any more.
Each day, he wakes up and it is the same.
No one loves him. No one has kind words, instead they hurl insults. He eats from the trash. What little he does have is stolen from him. He runs and hides so no one can get him. He dreams of seeing his family or being in school but knows his family doesn't care and probably isn't even missing him and school will never happen for him.
He begins to think he is worthless because that is what he hears everyday.
He begins to believe he is unlovable because that is how he is treated.
He begins to lose hope and faith because life is just too much.
No wonder he said he didn't pray. He probably felt like there was no use. He probably felt so worthless and useless, he couldn't even begin to believe that anyone could love him, including God.
What drew me to Dunkan was his laugh. He hides his pain behind jokes. I think he feels happiness when he sees others laughing. His laugh is infectious. Just hearing it makes me laugh with joy. Every time he gets on the phone I smile and it erupts into a laugh and he asks me why. His laugh is beautiful. His smile is even more beautiful. He is beautiful.
It has been so difficult for him in the home. Lately, when I call we have been having very long conversations. Today was no different. He is doing better but I think it is still hard for him. He keeps bringing up that he doesn't understand why I chose him. Today his words broke my heart. He said, "Don't you remember that I told you I was sitting here wondering why you took me?" I answered and said, "Yes but don't you remember what I said?" He assured me he did and I asked him what. He said, "Because you love me." I told him that was right, I do. He responded by saying, "I still wonder. I thought to myself, 'I am so bad. I am not beautiful. Why me?"
"I am not beautiful."
I think those words are difficult to hear from anyone but have a greater sting from someone you love and adore. It is a sign that he is so hurt and broken from his time on the streets and probably even from his life before. He hasn't known kindness, love or forgiveness. All things that God represents.
But now he has.
Our conversation ended with him telling me thank you for choosing him. He told me that I am everything to him because I have helped him. I am like his mother and his father. I am everything.
But then he stopped and changed his mind.
He said, "Sorry, actually you are second. God is my real father and you are second to Him."
I couldn't believe it. My heart has never felt happier.
What do you think would have happened if I would have gotten angry at him and not allowed him to be in the house because he didn't believe?
As Christians, our lives are a reflection of what we believe and who Jesus is. I know we are flawed. I know I am not perfect and make many mistakes everyday. But I ask you to think about it. Is your life reflecting Jesus' love? Is your life reflecting Jesus at all?