God is Abel

 Recently, I volunteered at my church with a few other people at our annual “Christmas Operation,” table. It’s always fun, often a great time to share God’s movement in our lives and the holidays – any and every thing.  I happened to be speaking to a lady and found that she worked in the public school system, as I once had.

            As we talked, she told me of all the many ministries she was involved in and all she did as a member of the church. I thought it was awesome, to be such a devoted servant and so willing to give of her time. As we continued speaking, I revealed to her that I had also worked in the public school system, with special needs students.  She hastily responded, “I could NEVER work with those children,” and, “it’s just a waste of time, it’s just daycare - they’ll never do anything on their own.”   I have to be honest and say her remarks stung my heart. When I worked with special needs students, I had loved them as my own.  I was a little taken aback that I was speaking to my Christian sister who nearly lived in church – the building – and yet lacked compassion for those I considered Christ had spoken of  [in part] when he said, “the least of these.”  Matthew 25:40 And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.  (Matthew 25:31-46)

            Later that day, I thought more and more about one special needs student I had worked with for a few days last year.  He was of small stature, maybe 4 or 5; frail-bodied, with straight, jet black hair that framed his sweet, sweet face. A face I will never forget. His name was Abel.

            Abel couldn’t speak, but smiled often. He made slight inarticulate sounds every now and then, and held a very gentle and meek disposition.  I stayed near to him. He was so peaceful, so precious – they all were – but Abel just gripped my heart, and it became my goal to delight his.

            I worked by his side. Helping him to eat, using the educational toys to play with him, talking to him – basking really, in his presence.  I remember him so clearly: body wilted, like a Raggedy Ann doll, his eyes smiling into mine; peace and innocence draped over him. He stole my heart that day.  Our class went outside for recess and I lifted him out of his little wheelchair to hold him. He was as light as a feather.  I spun him around as the sun shined down on his face.  He smiled first, and as we continued in our spinning embrace, he laughed and it was as if time stopped, and an endless wave of love and joy and peace surrounded us.

Upon returning to the classroom,  the other assistant filled out paperwork with Abel’s name.  I was standing right near while she did, and when she wrote his name, she spelled it, A –B –L-E.  In the physical realm it seemed incorrect; but it struck a chord in my spirit, immediately. I felt that God was speaking to me. God is able – through this little disfigured boy – God is Abel. The words pressed upon my spirit and I knew, that being with Abel, I had sat in the very presence of God that day.  Little Abel, even in his state, was a vessel of God’s perfection.

            I know that Abel may never do anything significant in the eyes of men – lawyer, doctor, etc. but when I am placed in the presence of these special ones, I can talk to them, I can pray over them, I can offer them the sweet gift of love. If they come each day for only that, it is worth it every time. Biblically, in the Kingdom, Abel who is the least, will be great. Luke 9:48 And [Christ] said unto them, Whosoever shall receive this child in my name receiveth me: and whosoever shall receive me receiveth him that sent me: for he that is least among you all, the same shall be great..

            As for my sweet sister-in-Christ, I will be praying for her – for us. I will pray for us to be humble servants in this Kingdom that God so lovingly invites us into. I’ll pray that we will be readily available, with willing hearts, seeing eyes, discerning spirits realizing that in the least of these, we will find God’s presence hovering protectively. God is able. God is Abel...

Let's go before the throne of grace.

 Heavenly Father, fill our hearts with your humility. Let us see like your eyes see in the lowliest of faces, and in the lowliest of places; let our hearts reach like your heart reaches for your children and the lost, and empower our spirits to love unaffectedly, like yours.  Father, we know the miraculous, incomparable work you do through willing, unassuming hearts.  Lead us there Lord, to that place in You, that we may be usable for your Kingdom.  We love you, and we thank you for heavenly encounters where you reveal your divine presence to us. In Jesus' name, Amen.

Cry of the Broken  - “to every outcast, a friend and comforter…”