• ἐλάχιστος • the least of these •
For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me...and the King will answer, 'Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.' Matthew 25:35-40
The king will reply, ‘Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ Matthew 25:40
I have so many stories to tell, I don't really know where to begin.
Yesterday, I met a little boy whose dad is the leader one of the largest, most violent gangs in Honduras. I met a kindergartener whose mother and father are always strung out on drugs and/or alcohol. He can't be taken to the orphanage because they wont give up custody. And of course— there is no foster care, or child services— only government run orphanages—overcrowded and underfunded.
I don't know how to deal with these kinds of things. Especialy when I will go home next week to a family who loves me, to food in my pantry, a community of believers, safety from violence, and hope for an education and a future.
Over these past couple months, I raised more than the money I needed for this trip. Friends, family, and people I have never even met have wrapped around this cause and I am completely overwhelmed.
One thing I know is that this trip isn't about me. It isn't about one week of doing good.
It is about a God that tells us to “love the least of these,” to “visit the widows and the orphans, a God who tells us to serve rather than be served.
While literally hundreds of people have made this trip possible, I have the incredible opportunity to be the vessel of their support. Each of them are just as much a part of this as I am, and that leaves me so humbled and grateful.
So in 18 hours I will get on that plane and head to Tegucigalpa, Honduras. I will love and work and serve. And in 7 days I will come back home.