Neglected Royalty

Isaac. A little boy in the Philippines.

Isaac is “special.”

This little boy absorbs all the attention he can get.

He wanders the streets of the community by himself,

no friends, no playmates…searching for hugs from white missionaries

or any kind of attention from anyone.

Isaac gets picked on. Bullied. Rejected. Ignored by his peers.

Isaac goes unnoticed, maybe even unwanted by the community itself.

The excuse: “Isaac is special.”

His safe place is school where his teachers will love him and protect him.

School is where he can maybe do everything his peers do

—a place where he could maybe fit in.

Richelle.  A teenage girl in the U.S., my sister.

Richelle is “special.”

Almost 17 years old

and she is a lover of Disney princesses, dolls, and everything pink.

She wanders around the house on Friday nights,

acting out her favorite Disney scenes or singing to herself.

Not out with friends, no projects or schoolwork, no boys or dating…

…not a typical teenage girl in America.

She looks for hugs from her family and a hand to hold from her big sister

or any kind of attention.

Teachers practically give up on teaching.

Other high school kids are out with their own friends.

The excuse: “Richelle is special.”

She gets bored and so she goes to her safe place:

her pink and purple bedroom with the T.V. on all hours of the night.

a place where she can be in her own world—a place where she could fit in.

Isaac and Richelle can’t really communicate.

Needs aren’t always met—emotional, physical, spiritual, as well.

Hurts can go unnoticed. Desires and deep longings can’t be expressed.

They both have created their own little worlds that might be good enough,

at least for a little bit.

It can almost be a temporary freeness from their mental captivity.

But that can also result in loneliness and longing…

Isaac sees what his peers are doing.

He knows where he is limited.

He knows rejection.

Richelle sees what her high school friends do.

She knows she is limited.

She knows that she is missing out. 

In the Philippines, if you’re special, you’re just an extra mouth to fill. You take up space. You’re another problem. I’ve never seen Isaac’s parents with him as he wanders the streets. No protection. Do they love him? Does his earthly father demonstrate to him a Heavenly Father-type love? Is he neglected at home just as much as he is rejected on the streets?

Where does ministry start in all of this? It begins with revealing a sacred love to a child of a King who has been rejected, mistreated, harassed, and wounded. It begins in this next generation—the children. You teach them to obey the Father. You rebuke them in their ungodly ways. And you train them in righteousness. Above all, you love them with Jesus’ love—sacrificially, graciously, and with reckless abandon. That way, when they grow up, “He is special,” will not be an excuse.

My sister rarely talks…ever.

One of my favorite things to do with Richelle, is to take her to Sonic.

While we sit in the drive-in, sipping on our slushies,

the Christian radio station is on in my car.

And to the Father’s delight—she sings.

She sings with passion and power. Almost obnoxiously in her own special way.

That is the most sound I hear from her, usually.

Why? Because she is worshipping her Creator. 

Last week at chapel, the children at the school were leading worship.

Isaac somehow found his way up to the stage and stood with his peers

And did the same motions and mouthed words with them.

At the end of the song, all the students turned and bowed down to the cross behind them.

Isaac did the same. Isaac knelt at the cross, and worshipped his Creator.

If we are children of the King, we are royalty. Princes and Princesses.

God delights in all His children, including Isaac and Richelle. He wants all of us.