Sitting In The Airport Of Seoul

I wrote this poem on our layover after our mission trip to East Asia.

Sitting in the airport of Seoul,
Sleeping the delay away--yet wide awake.
Yearning for home--but which home?
Mine, with my family and friends,
clean and comfortable.
But the other, dirty and unfamiliar,
Strangers crowd sidewalks by busy roads.
Faces so similar, yet so unique.
Lost, empty, and unknown.
Unaware of the One who can fill the void.
Trapped by a government with no value for life.
Awake at night, consumed with thought, then
Asleep, accepting of their fate.
“We’re like the Truman show,” they said,
Content with not knowing.
Not knowing they're missing the point.
The point of life,
The point of peace, hope, and love.
How could they be taught that they have no worth?
I want to scream; I want to cry.

At the orphanage, I gaze
Upon the beautiful, helpless children.
Beautiful and innocent,
Unaware of the lack of love,
Soon to discover rejection from the world.
A country without love.
Without the love of the world: Jesus.
No, this is not my home.
Though I’ve not been here long,
It feels like forever.
I don’t want to leave; I want to stay
To love on all those children,
On all those unaware faces.
These faces that hold value.
I want to love them.
I do love them. Sitting here in Seoul,
I love them with my God-given soul.