All Things New

It wasn't my first time and yet, I still felt a little uncomfortable. As we zig-zagged our way through the orphanage's hallways, I felt my heartbeat accelerate. I knew what was waiting upstairs.

A big room with white walls. Mattresses scattered about the floor. Baby chairs lining the walls. Special needs children everywhere you turned.

You could hear the moaning and the crying way before entering. The hair on the back of my neck was on end... and upon entering, I struggled to breathe easily. My eyes took in the sight and my heart broke.

Dozens of children lay on mattresses or sat in chairs. They couldn't speak and few could make any significant movements. Some had obvious physical deformities and all had special needs.

The nurses soon gave us jobs. For the most part, we just fed kids. Feeding one child could take up to an hour, because spooning liquid into their mouths was a tedious process. Those who weren't feeding simply sat next to other children and comforted them. It was incredible to see how though these kids couldn't speak, they could sense a tender presence. Their sobbing quickly turned into quiet moans.

I was impressed with how the GEBC team responded to these children. Though I'm sure many have had contact with special needs children in the past, I don't think anything could have fully prepared them for this orphanage. And still, many without hesitation, stooped down and cuddled children, singing softly or simply rubbing a child's hand. It was beautiful to see the love of God penetrating this seemingly forgotten orphanage.

After feeding one child I went over to Juan David, an older child who also happened to be blind. He was curled up in the fetal position, rocking back and forth to the rhythm of his moans. I gently touched his shoulder and he instantly sat up and reached up to grab me. He pulled himself up and climbed up onto me. Once he was comfortable he nestled his head into my neck and kept rocking back and forth. He couldn't keep still and for an hour, we kept moving around trying to find the most comfortable position for the two of us. As I hugged him, I prayed for him.

It was easy to get discouraged and wonder where his life fit into God's greater purpose. And for a while, I was discouraged. My heart broke realizing that Juan David's entire life would be spent in this orphanage, because adoption was highly improbable. And yet, I felt God's comforting whisper, reassuring me that his sovereignty and love were compatible.

My mind drifted back to the Adam and Eve. And the fall of man. And the curse that followed. All of creation was cursed. Genetics were cursed. These children were born with these illnesses and disabilities because they were born into a cursed world.

My heart throbbed and yet I was comforted, knowing that my beautiful savior, was at work redeeming humanity... Christ didn't just come to save us from our sin, but also from our pain, our sickness and our shame. Not one of these precious children were unknown to God. I joyfully imagined the day that they would sing and leap in heaven, running into the arms of the One who had made all things new.

Half-human. Half-monster.

"This is who we are," Emiliano covered one half of the drawing... "And this is who we want to be," he said as he revealed the other half.

I analyzed the drawing carefully. It was a face of some sort. Half of it was monstrous-- the skin was gone and only hollow bones remained. Sadness emanated from the empty eye. And the other half was a beautiful human face. Half-monster, half-human.

One week ago the GEBC team was robbed in Barrio Egipto (read previous post). The team was hurt, scared and a little confused. Why would God bring them to Colombia to work with the poor in Barrio Egipto, only to get robbed on the first day? However, we really do serve a God who can and will work all things together for good...

Pastor Elias, who heads up the ministry in Barrio Egipto, immediately began walking around the community and talking to people in Egipto. In order to put pressure on the thieves, he closed down the Buena Semilla. After two days of interrogations and conversations, some new information came to light. Apparently, in Egipto there is a law stronger than the legal law.

No one hurts anyone associated with the Buena Semilla... or else you leave the neighborhood. Or... you die.

The gang members were horrified when Elias let them know that the group they had robbed were on their way to work with the kids at the Buena Semilla. They were filled with remorse and claimed that they had no idea. They felt horrible and immediately wanted to ask the team forgiveness... and wanted to give them a glimpse into their lives.

So on Friday the team members and my mom met Elias and the gang members and their leader, Emiliano. They took turns apoligizing to the leaders and asking forgiveness. Then, they opened their hearts and shared about their lives in Egipto. They grow up only knowing violence. Most, if not all, had witness murders-- most likely, the murders of their own fathers. When the average life expectancy for men is 28, death runs rampant. They have become all but desensitized to sin and the damaging effects.

Emiliano shared a drawing he had made... allowing the GEBC team to see their internal struggle.

Half-monster. Half-human.

Oh, aren't we all? Without Christ we're tormented by conflicting desires. We know what's right, yet we don't do it... and we do what we don't want to do. We must experience the freedom in Christ, when he gives us new desires and transforms our hearts into hearts the beat to bring him glory.

This drawing was simply an explicit explanation of the human condition.

Half-monster. Half-human.

And when the team was able to forgive these men when they had nothing to offer in return... it was an explicit demonstration of the precious Gospel of Christ.

This was the message the GEBC team was able to share with gang members in Barrio Egipto. Elias had tears streaming down his face, realizing that this was an incredible breakthrough... some missionaries live a lifetime before seeing gang members repent.

And yet, this team of high schoolers from GEBC had witnessed this miracle. I wonder if they ever thought a simple prayer could do so much in so many unlikely ways.

"Use us to bring glory to your name."

A Spiritual Diagnosis

"The team was held up and robbed at knife-point."

The words came like a punch to my stomach. I felt a whirlwind of thoughts swirling through my mind at a sickening pace. I gripped my cell-phone and managed to

ask my mom, "Where? Was anyone hurt?"

"I'll tell you the story when I get home," was her only reply.

I hung up and allowed the words to sink in. Our home church (GEBC)

in the Chicago area had sent a team of 12 high school students to Colombia-- my home-- on a short missions trip. This wasn't the first time Bogota had been a GEBC missions destination, but it was the first time they were coming focused on working with the poor in the worst parts of Bogota. And working with the poor in large cities always involves risk.

Always.

I suppose it was bound to happen at some point. As a missionary family

in Bogota, we've seen, hosted and planned several mission trips to Colombia. But this was the first time any team had come into such proximity with the violent effects of sin.

After talking to my mom, more details began to fill in gaps of the story. Five men approached the group of eight as they were walking up to a children's home (Buena Semilla, which means 'The Good Seed") in Barrio Egipto. They were armed and demanded their valuables. Several cameras and cell phones, the church credit card and the pastor's wedding rings were stolen. Some of the men threatened the girls on the team, showing them their knives as a tool of intimidation. Thankfully, no one was hurt.

My thoughts kept bouncing back and forth between praying for the team and hurting for the thieves. These men probably had younger siblings or cousins who benefitted from the services that Buena Semilla offered. No doubt that they knew the pastor who had poured out his life for these people for over half a decade. And yet, they weren't free from the devastating effects of sin.

I felt my heart get heavy, as it absorbed the extent of our fall-- once again. As a passionate advocate for social justice, I find it easy to get caught up in the physical reality of these people: their hunger, their nakedness, their suffering. It's much easier to see their lack of physical resources or justice and fight for those, forgetting that these are simply symptoms of a deeper problem... a deeper sickness. The Great Physician offered the diagnosis long ago: sin.

Man wasn't simply cursed with having to eat by the sweat of his brow. Woman wasn't simply condemned to feel pain during childbirth. All of creation was cursed-- perverting our desires, our dreams, our motives, our relationships. We live in a fallen world. And working with fallen people puts us right in the middle of these fallen desires.

While these men followed their greed, they were controlled by sin.

The cry for justice must be met by a freedom from sin.

Barrio Egipto

Photograph by Rob Tracy