It is pretty amazing to see how God works things out, and his fingerprints have been all over our little House Church.

Let me first admit this: it is the most chaotic hour of the week. It’s mostly kids, save a few adults that will drop in, stand outside, or meander. There are kids coming in and out constantly. There is usually at least one child peeing on the floor. There are snacks being eaten and games being played. There are kids talking and trying to play with the magnets.

It’s absolute chaos.

BUT the kids are remembering things. They are remembering the stories. They remember the applications. They tell me about them through the week. And even in the middle of it, most of what they are talking about is the story being told.

In many ways, this is showing us a whole new side of the culture. It reminds me of when I found the child writing on the wall and snapped at him, suddenly realizing by his face he didn’t mean it that way and truly had no idea that my wall was any different than his own, which bears phone numbers and drawings and random bits of words. Likewise, sometimes the kids actions aren’t necessarily meant to be disrespectful, even if it feels that way.

It is also showing me a new side of patience.

And of hope. I find great hope in Isaiah 55:10-11, “For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.” We have a room of children hearing Scripture presented in their own language, and it will not return empty. The Scripture is alive and active, sharper than any double-edged sword (Hebrews 4:12), and it will accomplish the purpose that God has put before it. 

So we will speak it above the hum of crunched Mama noodles and crying siblings and chatter.

In many ways, seeing His fingerprints all over is deep in my soul and not necessarily in the midst of a sweaty, loud bible study. It was pretty spectacular how we worked our way through the stories and the Christmas story fell nearly perfectly on Christmas Eve. We did have to work in one extra story into the book we are working through, but it was such fun to act out the Christmas story on Christmas Eve in our front yard.

And now, as we are nearing Easter, we are working our way toward the story of the crucifixion and resurrection, which will be on Maundy Thursday. We’ll do it outside again, but we’re working out the details for other creative presentations, so as not to have a skit of the crucifixion for obvious reasons.

Last week, Stephen took a week to present theology to the kids. From the beginning, every week has been connected to the Prince that was coming to save us. (If you aren’t familiar with The Jesus Storybook Bible, look it up. It’s such a beautiful presentation of the Bible for kids and adults alike.) And now as we walk through the stories of The Prince in the New Testament, we wanted to try to tie it all together. So first, we needed to attempt to explain the Trinity. We also needed to explain what the Prince came to save us from, and why the Prince was necessary.

Stephen did a stellar job, and it was one of the more {obviously} successful weeks ever. As a part of it, we encouraged the kids to memorize a verse, John 14:6, by this coming week, and safid we’d have prizes. Some of them knew it right away, as they’ve learned it at the Saturday church program they attend. Even so, we went all out with the prizes, and they were nearly to Christmas present level at about $2 per prize, which is also about half their parents’ daily wages. We had about fifteen kids say the verse perfectly!

We also went to work learning it in Burmese. I’ll admit I only got halfway through: I memorized the first three sentences, which break down into, Jesus said, “I am the way. I am also the truth. I am also the life.” 

But Stephen did awesome! He learned it all and recited it for the kids. There was one little mistake in the middle, where also is very, very near to the derogatory slang word for the male reproductive organ–like so close that it’s the same spelling, but different pronunciation. At least it gathered a laugh in the middle.

(Side note, it’s also very similar to part of the color orange. So last week I mispronounced orange, to which the little girl giggled and said with big eyes, “No, Kelli! Orange!”)

In the midst of all this verse memorization, I took the verse to our teacher to ask a few questions about how it breaks down grammatically and what words are chosen. Many of our neighbors aren’t literate, so the children are only partially literate. In addition to that, written and colloquial Burmese are different, and the Bible is in the literary form, which not everyone knows. So while some are literate enough to read spoken Burmese, they can’t necessarily read written, formal Burmese.

As we broke down the verse, it was so interesting to see how it translates. The word for “Christ” is literally “master.”  Burmese is structured differently than English. English is subject-verb-object, but Burmese is subject-object verb. So it makes the sentence “No one comes to the Father except through me” to be translated directly as: “Me without depending no one father to arrive can.” (See why language learning is so dang hard?!) But there are a couple things I really love about this. First, I love the use of the word translating most like “depend.” It seems so much more explanatory than coming through Jesus. Instead, we must depend on Jesus.

And what I love most is the word they use for father. It isn’t just what you call your dad, formal or informal. When my teacher, who is Buddhist, read it, he laughed. He said, “Oh! They use the word for the King. Like a prince or princess calls their father.” He thought this was quite funny to choose such high language, but I loved it. In this one verse, and really in every instance of Father, it inherently implies our role as heirs. It make us princes and princesses. I am amazed how much theology is buried in the language–in any language–and thus how pivotal it all is.

Either way, the kids took to memorizing so strongly, we’re doing it again this week! May the Scripture not return empty.

I can tell you with full confidence that whatever you imagine our house church or weekly Bible study to look like, it just doesn’t.

The culture of church here is quite different. Any service–church, funeral, wedding– can easily include answered cell phone calls or spitting or entire normal-volume conversations from adults in the audience. With our house church consisting primarily of children and teenagers, we just want it to be somewhat contained–contained noise, contained toddlers, contained bladders, contained attention spans. And any level of containment is an accomplishment.

I wasn’t the one telling the story this week, so I was containing. I had a child in my lap and I was holding his feet from kicking the little boy in Stephen’s lap. Stephen went out twice with two separate little boys that lost it, and I was spilled on with a green sugary drink at some point.

While containing, I try to just pray for the kids as they listen– for open hearts, for their homes, for different pieces of their stories I know or don’t know. It’s just a great chance to look at them and pray over them.

I looked around the room at the different children and families represented. I try to just be open any given day and any time for God to show us who we should love. We can’t get everyone, but we can ask him to show us who needs love that day. We can take the time to see them and know them and know their good days and bad.

One of the little girls came to mind, because I feel like their family has had a rough go as of late. The father seems to be drinking more, and the older daughter is sick with something. We’ve taken her to the hospital a few times, but it seems inconclusive at this point; we still have some followups. She hasn’t been to school for a few months. The younger daughter has been doing alright, but occasionally stays home from school to take care of her sister. This week, when we returned from camping on Wednesday, she was in tears. I have seen her just a few times over the past couple days; often in tears, often disheveled in an abnormal way. Something is clearly different. Is it just her? The entire family? Is there a missing piece that somehow ties it all together?

I don’t know. I just started to pray for the whole family.

Next to her sat a teenager with her sister. They have always come from a difficult situation, but I have been praying for them specifically as they witnessed the stabbing just a couple weeks ago. This girl was the one who came to our door and it was all at her little home. The two sisters and their six-year-old brother were witnesses to a lot that evening–all the things I described as a horror movie–playing out in their home. That night, I watched the kids, just worried for all they were seeing; feeling helpless at protecting them, or myself for that matter. And I watched her visibly shiver as she watched, and I have just been praying for them since.

A little boy ran in during house church and plopped next to me. He is always on my heart. It’s a messy, messy story, and I had watched him verbally abused all day. I just prayed he’d know God’s love for him when so many around him see him only as a nuisance.

And then I saw a little girl caring for a little baby, thinking of her brave role as an eight-year-old mother figure. She always had her step-aunt living with her and mothering alongside her (they were oddly the same age), but she recently went to Burma for who knows how long. I prayed for her, and then I prayed for her sweet auntie who went off to Burma and who we love so very much. I prayed for her to come back, so our years of loving on her weren’t over.

I could go on, because my eyes kept scanning the room and seeing more stories that I hurt for. Because really, it isn’t just one child that God has put on my heart. It is all the children. It is all the families. At one point or another, God has broken me for each one of these kids, for each mother, and even each father–though I admit that has taken longer due to some of the situations we’ve dealt with.

I get overwhelmed. Even trying to just be open to who God wants us to love and how best to do it, or who to pray for–I get overwhelmed at the suffering.

The “big events” are overwhelming in a more obvious way, but even in the day to day it overwhelms me. The poverty, the education, the mothers and fathers, the bicycle accidents, the glass-cut feet, and little babes whimpering for someone to hold them tight. They are so systemic and it runs so deep. The thousands of little groans become one roar, even as we sit around learning about John the Baptist.

Come, Lord Jesus, come.