We all dream of the life we see in movies, but never truly want to see the realities behind the scenes. Think of all the work that goes into them.
The long nights of learning lines, the time spent developing a character, learning an accent, and the time spent away from your family. These things are hard in themselves but translate that to a compounded time and other people in the mix and you have a perfect storm.
(I speak and write a lot in metaphors and foreshadowing. This may not make sense now but it will as the post ends.)
Now when you think of Madagascar you think of the movie and tropical rainforest, lots of different animals, and exotic things. But now think, what do the people look like, how are the cities built, and what are the struggles there?
Until two weeks ago we were in the same place. We land at the airport and we except to see typical African influences, like we have in South Africa and Botswana but we see French, Asian, and Eastern Island influences.
This island is home to more than 13 different ethic groups and 18 tribes. Everyone has a piece of everyone else in them and they unite in their uniqueness.
The city of Antananarivo (Tana for short) is the capital city and its crazy. Erratic driving, lots of pollution, trash, dirt, corruption in the government, sex trafficking in the form of massage parlors in the plain view, kids begging us everywhere we go, and people just living day to day not thinking they have a future so they don’t plan.
The things we don’t think about as luxuries are to them. We know everyday we will get a meal and be able to drink clean water. We know that we don’t have to lock the gate of our 8 foot high wall so no one comes and robs us at night. We know that stoplights are a thing and you don’t have to honk and inch your way across traffic (well kind of). We have hope that there will be a tomorrow so we plan, whether big or small, that we will see a future.
We all get these opportunities and we take them for granted.
Our pastor we worked with last week showed us all the ministries he does. He is a busy guy and never stops moving. He has a NGO, a Church, a Political party, and a family of 4 boys and a girl on the way.
We preached to members of 6 different churches (a mini conference of sorts), taught kids in 3 different schools Sunday school songs (which is an awesome way to teach English and have it translatable), did home visits and prayed for people, did street evangelism, busted my butt playing soccer against 15 year olds, went to a 20,000 person market and shared my testimony of how Christ sought me out, preached and gave testimonies to the church he ran, and finally we went to the area where the homeless people lived on our last day with him.
This was my first time seeing the hopelessness of poverty, and homelessness here. We pull over and our pastor says be ready to see some hard things and see what we are fighting against.
We walk through this area and see a sea of trash and people next to this canal that is brown. People are washing themselves and their clothes in this water. Next to it bits of trash, mud, and possibly crap line it. 6-10 feet away this infinite line of shacks made of cardboard, tarps, blankets, metal, and trash in a row.
We see people’s “houses” with an assortment of items they have found in the trash on sale. Broken phones, empty Coke bottles, bits of half eaten food being re cooked, pieces of electronics, a broken down excavator, and anything in between. They scavenge and sell these things in hopes of making money to eat and survive.
We see children covered in dirt and clothes that are tattered. They are swarmed around us and most aren’t asking for anything but just wondering why we are there.
I was wondering why I was there. Why did our pastor who took us to so many other places make this our last day? Why do I have to see these things? Why can’t I have blissful ignorance and just know about these things and not have to experience them first hand?
You can smell and taste poverty some will say. It’s a mix of carbon monoxide, sewage, rotten food, and a tinge of despair that pulls at your heart.
These things are saying to me what are you going to do? How can you help? How has your 1 hour of being here going to change something?
These questions running through my head point to my first metaphor.
I am trying to seek who Jesus wants me to be. I am learning about what he calls me to and who he say I am. I am being taught that every situation is different and I can’t always have a solution to an issue. I am being shown how much my life and the people in it have meant to me and I count my blessing daily.
This environment of The World Race is the perfect storm. I am being pushed and pulled, I have to sit back more than I want to act out, I make more mistakes than normal, and that’s okay.
Seeing what I have seen is changing me. It has given me more of a heart for people and for rising up leaders who live in communities and countries. The Lord reminds me that he will work things together for his good. He has a plan and we did not go to this place in vain. He is giving me hope for the hopeless.
That pastor Hasima is in this place and we we were able to aid him in his mission for a time period.
This work is not about what I can do for others purely but how others can change me to how I can help.
It’s been a madhouse and we still have 2 more weeks and will be going to the bush in a week. Thank you for praying for me.
I am still $3,100 from being fully funded. If I don’t get all the funds by April 30th I will be in danger of going home. Share this blog let people here and be apart of change in my life as The Lord uses me to be a part of change in different parts of the world.
May the God of Peace, Joy, Reconciliation, Redemption, and Love show you he is the true living God to day. Find you hope in Jesus and let the things you go through with him dictate who you are in him. Let him remind you are his beloved child that he sought out.
