Need Feeds Hope: Lessons from Stephano

by Alecia Klauk
(Chapin, SC)

This picture captures so many things, so many hopes, so many dreams, so many lessons. It teaches, it preaches, it touches. It is brand new and instantly became a classic in the flip chart of my heart. I want to tell you the story.

Just a few days ago, my beloved husband Brian had the incredible opportunity to spend a day with one of our kids sponsored through Compassion Int'l. We have 5: one for each of our biological children who we get to raise. Poala and Julieta are in Bolivia, Andre and Adriano are in Brazil, and then our Stephano, this child, is in Tanzania. These are our children, loved and precious, prayed for and worried over. They are our children of the heart.

Stephano is 12, and we've had him about 3 years. Within 3 months of receiving the responsibility to sponsor him, we were told that his father had passed away. We assume that it was AIDS, though, like many similar deaths in hard hit regions of Africa, we can never know for sure. Even with great prevalence, there is still great stigma attached to this kind of death.

Often an explanation is not even given to the surviving family. So we think, but we do not know. Neither does Stephano, the youngest child in a family of 6. We had an orphan to care for. James 1:27, the directive to care for the widow and orphan, had new feet on it.

We began to write letters to try to get to know Stephano, and what we found was a very intelligent and creative kid, a pre-teen hungry for relationship. He writes much more often than our other kids, and we responded to every one of his letters and drawings. He began to reveal a talent for drawing and even a bent toward engineering, which was quite clear to my engineer husband.

When an engineering mission trip to Uganda began to formalize a few months ago, we were struck by the close proximity of Uganda to Tanzania and began to pray Brian there to see Stephano.

The logistics were extremely difficult to coordinate with extremes in limitations on flights and accommodations. We had no idea when we began the process just how many kings and mountains were going to have to fall in order to make it work. But the Lord wanted this visit to happen, and He made every detail fall easily into place.

So on his way to Uganda to engineer an orphanage, Brian took a few days in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, to spend time with Stephano. They met in a large resort city, giving Stephano experiences he'd certainly never had before and likely may never again.

As we prepared the large bag of gifts for him, our hearts began to understand more of what this visit would mean for a child like Stephano. Like millions of other AIDS orphans all over the Wounded Continent, the loss of his father could not be properly processed: too much to do to survive, too much uncertainty to freely grieve, too much fear to feel. And in the quiet, dignified strength of these kids, he had to just keep going.

The visit would mean a light day of indulgence for Stephano. He'd see the ocean for the first time, even though he lives within just a few hundred miles of the coast. To have the chance to father him for a day would be a treasure we could hardly fathom.

We had been warned that he could be very shy, and that since his culture does not place a child in the center of attention, he may be uncomfortable. In the bag of gifts, there was paper to draw on, a ball to kick, little hacky sacks to juggle: all props to facilitate that first moment.

The photograph, the inspiration for the whole of this column, was the first moment!

A friend saw the picture and decided that Stephano, in that moment, had a new daddy!

So eager to relate, Stephano leaped into Brian's arms and held on! There was no hesitation. No holding back. Nothing but affection and comfort from the first instant they were together.

The rest of the day was the same. Great affection, playful interaction, even a parental sense of teaching new things. Assumed worthlessness, which is the deepest lie of poverty, was confronted with love that flowed naturally and abundantly from a overflowing heart. Two overflowing hearts. The rest of the pictures reveal them both enjoying each other with great abandon.

For our family, this visit is a great treasure, a pearl of great price to hold on to, a motivation to give deeper and more sacrificial love.

For all of us, this visit is a great lesson, a picture of great truth to hold on to, a motivation to receive the deepest and most sacrificial love.

Stephano's arms speak volumes. They remind me to love, to receive, to leap into the safety of arms that extend only love, to trust that my risk to trust will be honored with great reciprocation. He teaches me, us, how we should respond to the open arms of Jesus.

It's a shame that we don't just live in that place. We should. We can. It's right there all the time. But we often don't accept the acceptance offered us.

I continue to be amazed at my ability to forget that I am accepted in the beloved, that I am a cherished child of the King, that I need to be and do nothing other than need in order to receive the security I crave. My feeble little heart just plumb forgets.

Just this week, with my husband gone for 2 weeks in a perilous place, my frailty is more obvious, less threatening than normal. I have had no choice but to acknowledge my need and fling myself into the arms of my King. Sound familiar? I am Stephano!

I love how God does that, how He uses the faith and example of those we think we are serving to challenge and push us beyond ourselves. When Stephano leaped into Brian's arms, his heart was full of only trust, only security in the reaction, only joy.

Quiet that moment into slow motion and see that as those little arms wrapped around Brian's neck, Stephano's heart expected only good.

Expected only good. Only good.

Do you expect only good from God? Think about that. I can't say that I do everyday, every minute, all the time, wish I could, but it'd be a lie.

I am apt to distrust, to forget, to allow the truth of Scripture to allude my heart, even to willfully choose to trust in what I can see, what I think I know, what I feel. I trust myself, and no wonder that when I go there, I feel anxious and void of peace.

But the offer is to jump into His arms and know that nothing meets me there except love and full receiving. There is nothing, not one thing, but absolute benevolence.

My Jesus traveled a great distance to see me in my need, in my poverty, in my hunger for relationship, and opens His able arms wide with invitation. I need to heed Stephano's example and jump into them!

Hope is the expectation of coming good. We have great reason for hope. Our Jesus is so good and kind and gentle, ready to take us to places we've never been, teach us things we don't think we can do, have meaningful interactions with Him. The beach for the first time, juggling, fathering. Again, Stephano teaches me.

Like this precious child 8,000 miles away but securely in my heart, I also come to God in great need of fathering. I read a missionary story about a great act of kindness extended to a remote tribe in the Ivory Coast of Western Africa. Upon the completion of the project and lacking any word that meant selfless love, the chief asked the missionary what he had done to earn such a kindness, how he had pleased the missionary. The missionary said that he had simply seen their need. The chief and the village were converted with such a visible example of the love of Christ.

To come to Jesus with arms open wide, we do not need to have all the answers. We don't need to know the full depth of our sinfulness. We don't have to have repented of everything (we don't, can't, know everything, every way we sin!). We don't have to have perfect church attendance, perfect prayers, perfect quiet time.

We don't have to have our act together; in fact, the opposite is true. The truth is that all we need is need. It is just as true now as it was at the moment of salvation. My need is what brought me into His presence in the first place because I needed a Savior. I still do.

So look at this picture and find one more nuance of great worth. We have a picture of what's on the other side, the unseen side, of the embrace we enter into. Brian is certainly not Jesus, but he gives a picture of authentic acceptance. Look at Brian's hands: he is literally clutching Stephano. His face is full of joy, and the embrace is as meaningful to him as to Stephano.

I think that's what Jesus' face looks like when He embraces me. I don't know that, of course. I've never hugged Him in front of a mirror, can't see His face, and usually have my face buried in His neck anyway. But my heart is sure of His expression.

Love, security, joy, acceptance. Without exception or caveat, without hesitation or reservation, His arms are wide and His heart open to me. I am His child. I am accepted in the beloved. I am safe. I am secure.

And so are you. So go and fling your little orphan self into His awaiting arms once more, and trust. Let your heart receive again the depth of love from your Daddy and trust His truth of exceeding, extravagant love.