There’s an orphanage down the road that I love to visit when I get the chance. The kids speak very little English, and I speak even less Lunda, but we laugh and smile and sing and somehow it doesn’t matter so much.
They are some of the most joyful kids I have ever met, but they are still very much kids. One of their favorite English phrases is “And me!” If they see someone else getting something that they want- attention, a turn at a game, a tomato from the garden- suddenly there’s a crowd of little Zambians chanting “And me! And me!”
For most of them, that is almost the full extent of their English. They may not even exactly know what they are saying, they just know that if they say it to the white people who come to visit, they usually get what they want.
I think that is a little bit how I interact with God. Sometimes I imagine that I have this intellectual, rational faith that helps me make sense of this One who created me. I take great pains to use precise language and try to find just the right words to get my point across.
But in reality I’m just a kid who sees something beautiful and wants it. I read the fantastic promises scattered throughout the Bible and all I can do is say, “And Me, God! Make that true for me!” Or I see someone who is just so full to overflowing with joy and peace that all I can do is clamber to my Heavenly Father and plead, “And me, Lord! I want that kind of life!”
And God, Who is rich in mercy, Who loves me with an everlasting love, listens to my attempts at expressing myself and He understands. He understands the desires I haven’t even discovered yet. He doesn’t wait for me to use just the right words, doesn’t expect me to explain myself, because He already knows. He just wants me to ask. And when I do, He hears me and He gives me more than I can imagine and certainly more than I deserve.