When we heard we were splitting up and Linnea and I would be going into the ghetto alone, I was apprehensive, uh, to say the least. I thought about the challenges ahead and I didn’t really have my heart into meeting new people, doing new ministry, hearing a new same sad song. I didn’t want my heart to go out anymore. I didn’t want a new set of expectations, I didn’t want to let someone new down. I didn’t want to be uncomfortable.
So we arrived here in Sandweena a few days ago. I didn’t feel like speaking to anyone or meeting anyone or hearing someone’s life story. I am tired of sharing my lifestory. I am tired of sweating and stinking and being someone’s guest. It is always about me, isn’t it.
But, that little spark of pride I have left said I would not back down. That little seed of faith that God continues to germinate (?). I half spoke to myself in some sort of psychobabble and half prayed silently that God could get us through anything, right God? God could get us through this five days. It is always about me, isn’t it?
So we arrived in the little pathway that is the street we live on, in the slum. Scary people everywhere, mangy dogs confused by our presence. I am not hungry, I don’t want coffee, it is hot and I am tired and I want to go to bed and I want to read and I don’t want to talk…circled through my head, because it is always about me.
My intestines (its always about me and my bowels, isn’t it?) just wanted some privacy and a nice toilet. I wanted a good night sleep and didn’t want to walk around and meet people in the morning. People who see an over fed goofy white guy pretending to care for them and really just wishing for a hotel room, because, as I said, it is always about me. I tossed and turned that night, and in the morning tried to be chipper without a cup of coffee or a Red Bull, interact with people.
Then it is time to meet people and I have a choice, protect myself, be groggy and selfish and all about me, or try to love people. Linnea and I had our morning devos, we are counting down through Psalms. Today, we read Psalm 70 because we have 70 days left on the race. Tomorrow we will read Psalm 69, tough concept, huh? We read Proverbs 10 today, because it is the 10th. Another tough concept. Finally I am just studying (yes, even ruminating on it!) Philippians because we are in the Philippines (and I am not sure I even spelled either word correctly right now), sheer genius and brilliant and I need a Guinness.
So I prayed for love for others and strength and energy and headed out the door to walk around the slums to meet people. Sure that once again we would get made fun of or be a circus act and we can either decide to embrace it or back down. So we embraced it. We shake hands and kiss babies and hold kids and practice our campaigns. We take seriously this ‘ambassadorship’ we have been given for the kingdom.
And I learn, I love the slums.
I love the people, and the babies and the kids who all need wedgies and noogies and can’t get enough tickling and one kid has no pants so he can’t get a wedgie but he still gets tickled. And the hordes of snot bags follow us and my face hurts from smiling and laughing. People give us soft drinks and snacks and welcome us into their homes.
I sit on the floor because I am afraid of breaking their chairs and I ask about the pictures on the walls and the ribbons and trophies that are displayed. Pride beams on moms face as she says her child earned honors in school. We explain why we have no kids (“we don’t know how” is almost ready to escape from my lips before Linnea answers) we tell of our baby Sequoia home with our pastor.
We shake a million hands. I sweat and laugh. We have lunch.
I was asked to preach, I said yeah, you know, what the heck? When I preach I share again about dreams and God wanting us to pursue our dreams. That the most holy thing we can do is live life fully alive and that it might seem impossible, but the God of the bible says that all things are possible through him.
I play basketball with the men and then sing karaoke and have a great time and last night I realize, I love the slums.
