Words cannot do these past few days justice. It’s been an all-consuming array of joy, heartbreak, frustration, and love. Joy from the Filipino people, heartbreak for their stories, frustration with God, and His abundant love for me, my team, and these people.
When my team learned we would be travelling to a place called Happyland for a feeding, I prayed to see the people there with compassion, the way God looks at us, and He answered my prayer. That day was the most challenging day of this journey yet.
Happyland is a village in a trash dump. The ground is made of mounds and mounds of trash. There are no paved or even dirt roads, just garbage packed down and solidified with rainfall. Houses are ramshacks built on stilts. It reeks of a combination of the garbage and sewage rotting in the heat. The sight and smell was enough to overwhelm anyone.
Upon arriving, our teams dispersed into the community to offer invitations to the feeding.
As I walked down the path, I spotted a naked and barefoot little boy climbing over the piles. His stomach protruded from his body, the way it looks when someone is so malnourished that their stomach literally begins to eat itself.
The further I got, the more children swarmed around, wanting to tell me their names and have me take their pictures. There, an older lady approached me and told me to adopt some of the children.
Another woman introduced herself as Annabelle. She explained that she was a single mother of two and asked me to find her a husband.
A little girl named Angel held my hand as we continued around the village. As I struggled to find footing to avoid stepping straight into the sludge, she walked barefoot through it.
Nowhere had ever broken my heart so fast.
About an hour into it, I couldn’t handle any more. As I began to cry, the little girl next to me wiped the tears from my cheeks.
While unpacking and preparing the food at our second feeding location, I had the opportunity to wash the feet of the children waiting to eat, scrubbing the dirt from their sore-covered and blistered heels.
I met a mother of three named Annie. She expressed how much it meant to her that my team came and brought food to them. She said that since we live in the States, we don’t know what it’s like to not have food, but she struggles to find enough for her three children.
Just before we left for our train home, the pastor asked us to pray for a thirteen year old girl we’d met that morning. She started sleeping at the church three nights ago after confiding in the pastor that her stepfather had been raping her since she was in fifth grade. She just began her period and was worried she might get pregnant.
God exposed a part of the world to me that I didn’t even know existed. I’ve never been so aware of the hardship people endure daily. Most of all, I’ve been struggling to trust the Lord in all of this. If God is big enough to create the depths of the oceans and the heights of the mountains, why doesn’t He help these people living in such pain every day?
Listening to my confusion and frustration, my squad leader explained the time that Jesus healed a blind man. She told me that He didn’t explain why the man was blind, but He spoke about the good that came from it. And that’s where my trust in God needs to come in. I don’t understand Him or why He works the way He does. It makes no sense to me, but I’m reminded of the pain I’ve felt in my own life and seen how He’s made a beautiful story out of it. He didn’t forget me when I was hurting, nor does He forget His people in the Philippines.
I prayed to have eyes for these people the way God does and it broke my heart. God’s heart breaks for all of our pain and suffering, wherever we are in the world. One of the most powerful verses I’ve read is John 11:35. Jesus wept. To know that God sees suffering and feels it with us brings healing from hardship.
This trip is hurting in more way than one, but I know that God’s will is good and loving.
