February, 2015 – Trujillo, Peru.
We’re in a really poor, depressed, rough part of town this month. Alcoholism, drug abuse, and rape are commonplace here. We’re not allowed to be out after dark, and we can’t take the bus here due to safety concerns. We also have to be careful which taxis we use, because some are owned by the drug cartels. We can see the mountains in the distance from our ministry compound, and on a clear day you can see the beach from up on the roof; but all around us is a brown, dusty desert of shacks with trash everywhere and no paved roads.
A few of us were out prayer walking one morning last week. The kids in the neighborhood are always excited to see us white people (“Mira, los gringos!”), so I stopped to talk to a girl, probably about 6 or 7 years old, who was outside in the street. She was picking up rocks and showing them to me, so I told her how my sister used to collect rocks when she was little. The girl asked if my sister found treasures, so I said yes – I remember many treasured bottle caps, rocks, and seashells from years past. I then asked her if she looked for treasures, and she simply responded “no,” and that was it.
That seemed so illustrative of this place to me. That little girl had enough imagination to know that treasure hunting was possible, but not enough hope to try it herself.
Looking at this neighborhood through the eyes of the world, it seems completely broken and hopeless. The people look like they have no future outside the generational curses of poverty and substance abuse that run so rampant here.
We’ve been serving about a hundred kids in English classes and vacation Bible school this week (it’s summer in the Southern Hemisphere), and I refuse to accept hopelessness as a forgone conclusion for them.
I serve a God who came to proclaim liberty to the captives and set the prisoners free (Isaiah 61:1). He promises life, and life abundantly (John 10:10). He is a good Father (Isaiah 64:8) who has good plans for his children (Jeremiah 29:11), and with him all things are possible (Matthew 19:26).
When I look at the kids in this neighborhood, I don’t see dead ends. I see God’s workmanship (Ephesians 2:10), beautiful works of art that he imagined before the foundation of the world (Ephesians 1:4) and knitted together with the utmost care (Psalm 139:13). The Lord loves them with an everlasting love (Jeremiah 31:3), and he has so much more for them than just subsisting on the empty promises of drugs and sex and alcohol.
Please join me in praying against hopelessness in this neighborhood of Trujillo. The light of Jesus goes with us wherever we go, and it shines brightest in dark places.
