Seek

Long before the Magi, there was Balaam.

The Midianites needed to end Israel. Since Balak, the Midianite King, was aware that Israel was led by the supernatural, he strategically chose to fight them at their own game. 

Balak hired the great and powerful prophet Balaam to curse Israel. Balaam was on his way to bestow the curse of all curses when he was stopped by a sword-wielding angel. Falling on his face Balaam asks for permission to return home...alive. The angel informs Balaam that he won't be going home until Balaam speaks every last word that God has designated for him to speak.

 What follows is a blessing instead of a curse—a tremendous blessing on Israel. Blessings and prophecy of blessings on Balaam's enemy Israel uncontrollably fall from his mouth. 

And here is where we first meet the famous star of Bethlehem. Balaam speaks: 

“I see him, but not here and now. I perceive him, but far in the distant future. A star will rise from Jacob; a scepter will emerge from Israel. It will crush the heads of Moab’s people, cracking the skulls of the people of Sheth.” 

Many years follow, bringing us to the Magi, wise men, astronomers, the seekers. They were likely from the same area in Persia where Balaam practiced his sorcery and passed it down from generation to generation. Poor Balaam had lived through quite an ordeal all those years ago. How would he have not told of his epic face-off with the God of Israel and a power that overshadowed his very mouth? It was a story that endured. And as generations passed, all seekers knew the time was getting closer and closer to Balaam’s "distant future.”

 The Magi knew of Balaam's prophecy and of what Balaam “saw.” They knew the king would be coming. They understood a star would be their sign. They were seekers of what Balaam prophesied, and when they recognized it was finally coming true, the seekers had to worship, just as Balaam had to speak blessings. And so they came from the East in great anticipation, in the full knowledge that they were the ones who understood what was truly happening to Israel, even when Israel's King did not. 

The night had been packed with Christmas cheer, games, food, gifts, and music. It was a party for teenagers, but all of our adult team were warmly accepted despite our very low ’cool’ factor. The Center we met in was a holding place for children too old to be in the orphanage and yet too unprepared to be in the 'real world.’ These were orphans grown. Emerging adults, but still without family, still without a home. I often thought this must be the worst kind of orphan to be. 

Who would take pity on a boy nineteen? Who would see past his anger and rough exterior and straight into a heart that cried for a dad to call him 'son' or a mom to call him
loved, just once.? 

It was a sad and mournful shelter built by a government that didn't know what else to do with these aged-out orphans. They had one or two short years here, and then it would be time to fly. But where? To who? 

If ever there were a place I could feel the suffering, it was in this shelter. Heavy hearts walked these halls, but they were overcomers as well. Despite the heavy, they endured. The Christmas party was a time to pause the stress of survival, to eat well, play games, and have fun. Our ministry partner, who was called to enter in and love these young people, chose a different way to close off our evening of fun. In truth, it may have become my most treasured memory of all Christmas memories in Mongolia. We turned off the music and circled up. Each person was given a candle. The first candle was lit, and then the flames were shared until the entire circle was shining. Our ministry partner spoke up. She talked about hope. She spoke of quieting our hearts and listening, of seeking to hear what our hearts wanted to say about our pain from the year, about our mistakes, our grief. She told us all how valuable it was to forgive, to forgive ourselves if necessary, and to forgive others. 

"It's important,” she said. "To leave it here if possible, and to not take it into the next year” into our next decisions, into our next relationships.
She told us we would all be silent now and that when we found our answers when we were ready to leave them behind us, we could blow out our candles. The lights went off, leaving us all in the glow of our candle. You could feel the silence thick, and it lingered for long. No one blew out their candle. The orange light glowed while they began to seek. As the silence stayed, the atmosphere in the room changed. Authentic hope came with seeking. You could feel that too, the letting go of failure, disappointment, and shame, the forgiving. And after a long beautiful while, the first candle was blown out. But no one rushed. They kept seeking inside their hearts until they knew it was time, and slowly candles were blown dark one by one until there was but one more remaining candlelight. 

And we all waited. We silently cheered him on in his seeking, such big work taking place in silence. Letting go is big work. Wrestling with hurt for so long can leave you exhausted, but forgiveness is risky. Forgiveness is brave. The love in the room was heavy like it should be for all in this life, for all who are looking for hope, forgiveness, a new beginning.


And soon, the room was dark.