Children in Poverty

When I was a boy I watched a movie called “Behind Enemy Lines” and in that movie there is a very brief scene that made me cry uncontrollably and still affects me to this day. There are these rebels holed up in a warehouse and the military blows in the walls with tanks killing almost everyone, when the troops breach the wall the camera pans and in the foreground for about 10 frames you see this little girl probably 4 years old playing with a doll, gently talking to it and stroking it’s hair, oblivious to everything that is going on. As a boy and now a man that scene affected me, all I wanted to do in this life was pick that girl up and give her a hug, to take her out of that horrible situation and give her a normal life. Well obviously the movie is fiction but the reality is that all over this world that little girl’s story is real and in June 2016 God took me to a place that is so incredibly poverty stricken that I was fighting back tears the entire time I was there. In fact as I type this up the tears are finally pouring out.

This is Suba, we were visiting a privately run and inadequately funded orphanage named Colombia Chiquita. When we first arrived the orphanage owner gave us a brief tour of the 3 story building where they house dozens of abandoned children. These children had some of the most precious smiles I’ve ever seen as they greeted us, before we started the day of playing and testimony they wanted to take us to the girls’ house which wasn’t far from the main building. So we walked down the streets of Suba and my God the poverty was intense. Most of the families in the area recycle trash in order to feed themselves. While we were walking to the girls’ house I spotted a boy about the age of 7 sitting on the “curb” playing in the sand with a stick and his, I presume, sister sitting beside him playing with a piece of rope. She couldn’t have been older than 4 years old and she was gently talking to her brother while stroking the end of the rope like it was a doll and that was it’s hair. I had to look away as hot tears filled my eyes as I was reminded of the above mentioned film. Somehow God had brought me full circle from being moved by scenes depicted in fiction to seeing the real thing in real life and knowing that there was not going to be a happy ending. That girl was probably not an orphan and I will never know her whole story but I do know that there is never going to be a knight in shining armor that comes along, picks her up, gives her a hug, and tells her the whole world was going to be ok. I still hope and pray for her even though I don’t know her name or story, but honestly she was just there to remind me of how cruel and torn this world is; how viciously cruel this world is to children: especially to little girls.

Most children in Suba from the age of 4 dig through trash piles with their parents and family members looking for plastic or anything recyclable, they then load this trash onto carts or bags and haul it I don’t know how many miles to recycling centers where they sell it for next to nothing in order to survive. These kids’ education is so bad that they don’t even know the difference between letters and numbers. Their education level is so horrendous that they aren’t even qualified to go to public school, the public school system in Colombia is horrible btw, so they will spend their entire lives either gathering trash day to day or end up having to enter a life of crime. These mind you are the lucky ones with parents and family willing to give them a home.

God wasn’t done making a grown veteran cry that day. We walked back to the orphanage and took the kids out to the nearby “park” to play with them and make them laugh all day. We had a great time with these kids yet the entire time I was struggling with tears for these orphans. Suddenly, at the end of the park a door opens and these two kids run out of this “house,” maybe 7 and 5, and start playing in the street. I’m using quotation marks because if you could have seen the conditions of this neighborhood the terms curb, park, and house are too nice of words to describe the horrible condition this place was in. This town literally looked one strong breeze away from falling down, it looked like a card house project gone wrong. So these two kids a boy and a girl are playing, they looked like they haven’t showered in a month, the rags they wore were so dirty that it looked like if you shook them too hard you could collect a bucket of sand from their clothes. The little girl, the 5 year old, knocks on the door and to my incredible surprise a 2 year old answers it and decides to come out and play with his siblings. The poor thing had on sweat pants and a t-shirt and the sweat pants were soaked as if he had been peeing in his pants for days. At that point I looked back at the orphan kids we were playing with and my tears held back, I could justify staying emotionally neutral because these kids all had on clean clothes. Yes they were orphans with no hope, yes they lived in a horrible part of town, yes their education level was sub-par to the public school system, and yes their parents had all been killed in the civil war or drug violence; but at least they had on a fresh set of clean clothes so Levi didn’t start crying on the spot because Levi could see that they had on clean clothes.

When we returned to the orphanage God wasn’t done breaking my heart. I learned that some time before we arrived the water company sent a man to shut off water to the orphanage due to lack of payment. When the meter man arrived and saw the children he couldn’t shut it off out of conscience. I also learned that their food budget ran out and they were trying to sell broken bikes they had stacked on top of their roof to get the next month’s food. With tears rolling down my face Rebekah asked me to pray over the orphanage owner for the money they so badly needed. Angry at God but trusting in His good will I prayed like I never prayed before in my life for the funds for them to stay open, feed their kids, have running water, and basic necessities.

When we returned to the hotel my brother Luke and I stayed up until about 1 in the morning praying and talking about God and His plan for our ministry. Honestly I was dying inside and losing hope for the immense task ahead of us. Luke needed some prayer and discussion so I kinda kept it all together for him. We talked about everything we had seen that day and the day before. All the little signs that God gave us letting us know we were doing His will. I kept everything that I’ve shared here to myself until writing this but there were many other signs up to that point that I talked with Luke about.

The next day I was supposed to lead a devotion on a topic of my choice. Honestly, I was so broken hearted for those kids and so incredibly helpless to do anything about their condition that I really didn’t want to lead the devotion, I didn’t want to be there anymore, I wanted to go home and pretend that kids are only in those conditions in fiction. I really wanted that little girl in the movie to be the only problem I’d face like that. But God was still working on me and led me to the book of John once again. He led me to where Jesus commands us to ask Him for anything and it will be done. The day before Luke had taught on being helpless before God so I decided I’d teach on praying helpless before God. If God is indeed like the judge in the parable that Jesus taught about, only good instead of evil, then the best way I know how to get someone to change their mind is to show how helpless and desperate the situation is when pleading my case. I believe that God showed me these things in this way to show me where true power lies, in being helpless and completely dependent on Him. People with money don’t need God, people with nice houses don’t need God, people with busy lives are too busy for God. God also reminded me of the story of Lazarus and the rich man, He reminded me that the little girl I saw was Lazarus, and that while in this life she isn’t comforted, while in this life she doesn’t have dolls, and while in this life no one is coming to give her a big hug and let her know everything is going to be ok; in the next life Jesus has every doll she will ever want, in the next life she will be comforted, and in the next life she will never cry again. I felt strongly that if I’m even to see a glimpse of what awaits her I needed to get busy doing what Jesus commanded us; caring for the orphans, the widows, and the sick in their time of need. It’s easy to pass on a picture of Christ carrying the cross on FaceBook saying, “would you help Jesus up, share if you would, ignore if you won’t.” It’s hard to do what Jesus said is helping Jesus in His time of need, that if you so much as give a glass of water to one of these little one’s you’ve done it unto Him.

The last thing that broke my heart that day was when we were walking back to the orphanage I learned that Dad was giving the place all we could afford as a donation and I thanked him. He said, “yeah son, this isn’t slum tourism, we are doing all we can to help.” I literally lost it when I gave him a hug for saying that. Mission Critical can’t even begin to be a drop of water in the bucket of the problems we face and see in Colombia and around the world, but we can make sure that their stories are heard, show that their pain is real, and maybe give some water to 40 or 50 orphans here and there in the name of Christ. This ministry is two parts, sanctifying ourselves by seeing the desperation and helplessness in others, and making a real difference in the lives that we possibly can.