By Amber Schlomer
I was traveling. I was visiting a small village in Asia, and I stumbled across a small child. I didn’t know his background. I didn’t know what he was thinking, but I could tell that he was afraid of something, or possibly someone. His face told me that. I could only imagine what had happened at home. Maybe he did something wrong and was afraid of his father’s anger.
We are not so different from this little boy.
This little boy’s fear reminded me that I was exactly the same. That used to be me and every believer before the Holy Spirit called us out of darkness. We used to hide from our Heavenly Father, thinking that we could bear the grief and shame on our own.
He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know that someone else was punished for his wrongdoing. He doesn’t know that his Father loves him, and he is welcomed home by arms that have held children before; by arms that have hung on a cross. But, I get to share it with children like him and countless others who come searching for meaning and peace in their lives. I get to tell them, “Don’t be afraid. Let’s go home. Your Father loves you and is ready to run to you with open arms.” I get to see that fear transform into relief and joy when a friend is pulled from the pit by hands still bearing the marks of pain and forgiveness.
This boy is only one person. How many others are there? How many do not know about this gift from their Father? I cannot answer that question exactly, but I know the number is high. If we don’t tell them, who will? Tell them. Don’t be afraid.
