“What is happening to me?”
The question I am asking could be formulated in a more
astute manner, such as…
“What is God trying to teach me right now?” But, that does not resonate with
me. My heart is reacting in ways
it does not normally react. This
does not feel like a lesson. It
feels like a force I cannot withstand.
At times, my heart does not respond when my eyes take in
poverty, injustice, and death. I can walk away from people who do not know if
they will be able to find the food they need for their malnourished family. I
used to think I had no compassion.
I have learned that I am simply able to serve these needs for a time and
then leave them in more capable Hands.
Not so, in the town of Bungoma, Kenya. On the streets of this small, but
boisterous town, the depravity of man shouts its tyranny. Cripples dot the crowds. Men shamelessly prey after women. But it is the smaller ones weaving in
and out of the bodas, matatus, and passerby that my eyes follow.
The street kids.
They carry themselves with pride. They ask for a bit of food, or a few shillings, but at the
end of the day, they are not ashamed of who they are. Each of their stories are different. But no story is less harsh than the
last. Dead parents, extreme
poverty, adventure, abusive families, respect, money…these are the reasons
these children are running the streets of Kenya. Some choose to.
Others have no choice. Each
one carries a bottle containing an amber substance. This is their sustenance. Ask any one of them… If you live on the streets, you sniff
glue. But once you start, you will
probably become so addicted, your body will shut down if you stop. But that is the only answer to extreme
hunger, sidewalks for a pillow, and despair.
If I read that last paragraph in my home in Pennsylvania, it
wouldn’t phase me either.
But a night came, as I sought the heart of God on the
rooftop of an unfinished building, that I heard God’s cry for these
children. Something rose up within
my being, and I knew I would not be able to leave this broken town behind. I heard God saying, “WHO is going to do something about
this?”
The churches here see the problem. But they are discouraged. You hear the hopelessness in their words as they tell of
their unfruitful labor. I
myself do not have any answers.
And I must leave. Our team
must move on to the other places God has called us to. But we leave Bungoma in the most
capable hands we can. Pray that
God calls people to these kids.
People who will NOT give up.
People who are willing to die daily to bring life to these kids. Whether that is people from this team,
Kenyans, or myself, I do not care.
Simply, I pray that God brings the willing.
