Whenever the word hope is mentioned, I picture two of the six year old girls experiencing their first month of true hope that they have been introduced to. Whenever the word justice is mentioned, I think of the people still begging on the side of the road in Cambodia and how they have yet to receive their justice. Whenever peace is mentioned, I think of the morning we spent touring Rapha House and I can clearly hear girls singing in Khmer. Whenever the word freedom is mentioned, I picture the girls playing soccer in the front. Whenever the word love is mentioned, I lose it completely. All I can think about is the love that I have for my two beautiful Khmer sisters. I think about how much they loved me. I think about how much God loves those amazing girls. I think about how their love literally changed my life. I think about how his love has changed their life. I think about how he loves the outcasts that fill Women's Island. He loves the kids at the kids club. He loves the parents that are only looking out for themselves. He loves the parents who sell their children. He loves the men who buy the children. That mostly leads to this: I think about how he still loves the offender. He loves the men who live in Cambodia and take part in the booming sex industry. He even loves the American business man who flies over seas to take part in this terrible act. His love isn't conditional. His love isn't reserved for the people who try to act according to his word. His love is reserved for every single person who has ever breathed a single breath.
Love is a crazy thing. I have never seen God's love as best as I saw it in Cambodia. Love has many different faces to me. People who love me, people who I love. It's never people that I should be loving but am not. Who am I to choose who is worth my love? I don't deserve God's love. I accept it and I am so thankful for it, but I have never done a single thing worth the amount of love he has for me. I get more from him than I deserve. For that reason, every single person I have ever seen, talked to, thought about, and those who I don't know exist, are worth every bit of my love.
If I don't love them, how will they ever know that God does?
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