Break Our Hearts

Here's the summary/update for the missions trip I went on in November...

Fourteen teenagers. Six days. One mission: Cienaga.

I've been back in Bogota for about twenty-four hours and I've actually been dreading writing this note-- not because I don't know what to say or want to say anything, but because there is so much, and so many emotions that words cannot express correctly. So here's my best shot...

Wednesday, November 26

This is was our departure day. Excitement was in the air and concentrating on school work was impossible. Around 10:00 am the whole school watched the elementary Thanksgiving musical. This probably ranks in my top ten most precious moments. God was already speaking gratitude into us. Perhaps it was a simple preparation for what was about to come in the next several days. After the musical, our Creative Outreach team was called up front and the whole school, from the pre-kinder kids to the parents of highschoolers, prayed for us. It was powerful knowing that we were merely representatives being sent out from ECA to bless whomever we could.The next hour was a blurr. Before I knew it, we were sitting in the bus, pulling away from school, on our way to Cienaga. Finally. After nine weeks of prayer and preparation, we were on the road.

Thursday, November 27

We were on the road bright and early, ready for another 10 hours of driving. During the drive we listened to music, made jump ropes that we'd be handing out to kids, and just got to know each other even more. No one had any idea of what God had in store for us, and none of us could wait to find out. We finally got to Cienaga late that night. As soon as we stepped of the bus, Lilia (our Creative Outreach leader) told us to put our stuff upstairs in the room and hurry downstairs so we could go to the plaza right away. Fifteen minutes later we were walking to the central plaza of Cienaga in prayer teams with three or four people in each. She asked us to walk around the plaza, praying for it and the people in it. We cried out to God asking him to pour out his spirit that night. Beggin him to change the hearts of those who were there. After some prayer time we congregated once again and turned up the music. A crowd gathered as fourteen teenagers (many who are white) danced to "Shackles". Afterwards, we performed a skit to Lifehouse's song "Everything." Machi shared part of his testimnoy and urged people to realize that God is love. That God loves them. We then had time to sing some songs with kids and walk around praying for some people. Amazing.

Friday, November 28

Realizing that we only had four days in Cienaga and the surrounding areas to do what we could, we thought it would be valuable to teach the church what we knew. This is what we did Friday. For about four hours we had workshops open to anyone who wanted to learn English, dance, drama, worship or the value of prayer walking. It was beautiful. I was in the drama group and we spent time going over some important aspects of drama and acting and then we taught them the "Everything" skit. My personal favorite group was a group of kids. They were all about 10 or 12 years old. Its hard to put into words the emotions that these children evoked. For anyone who has seen the "Everything" skit, imagine a mini Jesus, a mini girl, a mini druggie... They were precious. These kids realized their need for Jesus and realized that they could have a part in reaching their city of Cienaga for Christ's sake. It was simply beautiful.

Once the workshops were done we headed to the beach. Bahaha. I loved watching Machi see the beach for the first time. God's glory is displayed through his creation, and we got to witness it :)

That night we had the opportunity to run an entire church service. Leon led worship with others singing, Kaleb and Cami P gave their testimonies, and we did dances and our dramas. Sara was amazing explaining one of the dramas. Basically, it was an incredible experience. However, I don't believe that we only blessed the church. Perhaps we were more blessed than they even were. Their passion for God was infectious. Their understanding of how useless they are without God was convicting. Their joy in him was inspiriring. I felt privelaged to be able to be part of that church service.

Saturday, November 29

"Lord, I pray that You would break our hearts for what breaks Yours..."

And that's exactly what He did.

I'm not too sure what I was expecting God to do after I prayed that prayer, but I left the Poblado with a broken heart.This day was the day I had been waiting for the entire trip.

During breakfast, there was a prayer meeting going on for girls between eight and twelve years old. Lilia told us to go look at them for a second. We were all a little bit curious because you don't usually get asked to watch someone pray. These girls were literally on their faces, crying out to God. Wow.

Lilia then came up to us and said, "Are you ready to have your hearts broken?" She was only too right...We left the main part of Cienaga in bicycle taxis and rode for about 30 mins. The town literally morphed infront of our eyes. It became more and more poor. When I got out of the bike taxi and walked into the neighborhood (the Poblado) I honestly could not breathe for a couple of seconds. I knew that the houses would be made out of plastic and newspapers, but I wasn't expecting it to hit me so hard. Wooden posts supported black plastic bags and newspapers were taped to the inside to serve as insulation. The dirt road was mostly mud from the recent flooding. We walked "into" the Poblado's church-- a wooden structure with no walls and a tin roof.

We began singing songs with the kids as we waited for more to arrive. When we had run out of songs to sing, we pulled out the jump ropes we had been making on the way to Cienaga. The kids immediately came to us. Children came up and down the roads when they saw us jumping around in over 100 degree weather. Many were desperate for love and affection and would just run up and hug us. Others were scarred from abuse and cringed even at the touch of loving fingertips. Still others would grab one of your hands and would never let go. The scars poverty had left on their lives were obvious. Skin diseases were common and many had swollen bellies due to malnutrition. Their clothes were tattered clothing and close to none wore shoes. Countless children under the age of ten held their younger siblings-- burdened by a responsibility that never should have been theirs in the first place...When we had dozens and dozens of kids, we got them together and sang songs with them again. During the songs, I danced and laughed with these two little girls the entire time. Later, we were asked to sit so they jumped into my lap. There we were, the three of us, sharing our sweat as it dripped on to each other, but not caring in the slightest because of the greater sharing that was going on: love. We sang some more songs and then is when I met this one girl who I absolutely fell in love with. She was crying and I picked her up. She never told me her name but I'd just whisper in her ear, "te quiero," that's "I love you" for all you non-spanish speakers :). Every time I'd say that, she'd hug me even tighter and bury her head into my shoulder. She obviously wasn't used to hearing those words. After presenting some dramas and choreographies, we continued playing with the kids. Soon the watermelon was brought out and the kids flocked to the food, precious food. There wasn't enought to feel all three hundred of them. Then we had them make a line outside of the church from youngest to oldest. At first I wasn't sure what was going on, but I realized that we were feeding the children bread-- and the only reason why they were lined up like that was because there wouldn't be enough to feed all of them. I don't know if you've ever seen people desperate for food before, but this was definitely my first encounter so close up. Older kids would push younger kids out of the way, crying could be heard with every piece of bread that got passed out. Poverty had hit even the least of these. Starving mothers took some food away from their children in order to feed themselves even a couple of bites. Most had no idea where there next "meal" would come from. When the food ran out, it became dangerous for us to stay in the area any longer because of the desperate state of the people. We had to set the children in our arms down, get them off of our laps and wave goodbye to the rest, before we ran out to the bus that was waiting for us.

On the bus ride back to the church, we rode in melancholic silence. Why were we blessed beyond anything they could ever imagine? I never had to wonder where my next meal would come from. Why were their bellies swollen from malnutrition? Why are North Americans constantly diagnosed with diseases caused by an excess of food? Why would I, as a child, buy shoes whenever I grew out of them? Why did these kids have to stop wearing shoes once they were so worn out that they were no longer wearable? Why did I have the luxury of shampoo, soap and clean water when these were rarely blessed with even clean drinking water?I never did anything to deserve my blessings. They never did anything to deserve this life they were born into.

We got out of the bus and Lilia gave us the afternoon off to process what we had seen that morning. I had to journal and try to understand. Honestly, I still don't understand. I'm not sure if I'll ever understand why these people are so broken and lost to the eyes of the world. But I do know that they aren't lost in the eyes of God. I may never understand why I've been blessed in these ridiculous ways, but I do know that I have the potential to bless others. I can let my blessings over flow. I can do my part to try and ease the pain in this world. I can share God's love with them, knowing that they are precious in his eyes.

As you can guess, I could go on forever and ever trying to put what I saw and what I felt into words. And I'd fall short every time. I can't express the pain, the hunger, the desperation I saw in the eyes of every child who hugged me. So because I'd never finish, I'll try to keep going...

That night we went to a concert that was held in a coloseum. A christian singer said we could present one of our dramas before he sang. We presented our skit to the Underoath song "Some Will Seek Forgiveness, Others Escape." It was powerful, but that isn't what most impacted me. There were about two hours of worship-- typical coastal music: vallenatos. People were dancing unto the Lord with joy that overflowed out of their hearts into their hands and feet. It was infectious. People on the coast were so in touch with this all-powerful God who could complete them in their weakest state. God's grace really was sufficient for them. His power really was made perfect in their weaknesses. Their passion and joy was so evident in their faces, in their energetic dancing and their desperate raised hands.

Sunday, November 30
Leaving Cienaga ripped my heart apart. We left early Sunday morning and headed toward a church in Santa Marta, another coastal city. When we got there Lilia asked us to pray and think about giving our testimonies. Leon, Cami B and Allison were willing to share. During the church service, worship was energetic once again :) My personal favorite was the pianist. His joy for God flowed out into this piano playing moments. He was an extremely talented musician, and it was obvious he was playing unto the Lord, only to the Lord. It was amazing :)We did our dramas and some shared testimonies. It was powerful. Afterwards we were invited to stay for lunch, so we did :) One lady came up to me after I had just finished eating and asked if I would pray for her. We went outside and she told me what was going on in her life. I prayed for her and when I opened my eyes, another woman was standing there. Her name was Marta and she wanted me to pray for her as well. As I listened to her, I realized that she had just unleashed a series of emotions that she had been damming up inside. The pain that had been bottled up inside gushed out and I just stood there, completely astounded by what she had been through. I wasn't sure how to pray for her, but I just did. I asked God to pick up each piece of her broken heart and put it together, piece by piece. It hit me how hard that prayer had impacted her. Why don't we pray for one another day by day? Why do we wait for missions trips and service days to pray for those who are burdened? Prayer is so powerful yet we seem to wait to use it as a last option. We turn to prayer when there's nothing else to turn to, but this mentality is so backwards. Prayer should be our first and foremost response. After lunch we went to the beach and spent some time with the youth group from that church. It was nice, having a chance to relax and let God's majesty and glory refresh us.

Around 5:00 we got back into the bus and prepared for a long busride home-- only we didn't know exactly how long. We drove all night and got home Monday night around 7:30, 26 hours later.

Thank you so much for your prayers and support. We wouldn't have been able to go on this trip without your help.

I love you all :)