It looms in the distance – the dump. Before I catch sight of it, the smell reaches my nostrils and the smoke causes my eyes to water. I stop, catch my breath, and eagerly press forward. My time has come. I keep my eyes focused a few steps ahead of me, in order to avoid stepping in something unpleasant. So, basically, I choose my steps very carefully. The land is littered with random trash – broken sandals, metal cans, banana peels, beer bottles, styrofoam containers, scraps of rusted tin, cloth, half eaten hamburgers, etc.. I walk towards the precipice and peer over. Trash. The smell of burning trash and the sensation of smoke burning the eyes is about unbearable. Trash. The smoke is so dense in some places that I cannot see through it. Trash. On the other ledge, across from where I am standing, is a small village…one I will soon visit. A barrio I will soon call my own.
Through the smoke, something catches my eye as it moves. It is a young lady. There are actually three of them. Each drags a trash bag behind them as they meticulously search for “valuables”. Ironically, these bags now hold treasures: money, food and clothing. The saying “one man’s junk is another man’s treasure” just took on a whole new meaning for me. These people live here. My treasures. This is their life. My treasures. When they go home, they still live here. I can not wrap my mind around it. In an hour I go back to where I am staying. I wash my hands. I change my clothes and get something to eat. They live here. I do not understand. Then God whispers, “They are my treasures…Soon you will see…”
So, about a year ago, I placed stickers on a world map indicating countries the Lord has laid on my heart, along with potential ministries in each location. One of those stickers I placed over Nicaragua with the words written on it – “trash heaps”.
While we were finishing up our last week in Mexico, we were told about the potential ministry sites in Nicaragua. There were three possibilities – one of them being dump ministry. My jaw about fell to the ground and my heart practically jumped out of my chest. “Are you kidding?” I asked the Lord. By God’s divine sovereignty, after days of prayer, my entire team felt lead to spend the month at the dumps. My home for the month is among the people who live in the barrios surrounding the dump. These are God’s people and he is giving me his people!
I am beginning to grasp more, day by day, why the Lord has laid this ministry on my heart – especially in Nicaragua, the second poorest country in the Western Hemisphere. He is drawing me to the “poorest of the poor”. The “outcasts of the outcasts”. The “nobodies among the nobodies”. The “forgotten among the forgotten”.
God has a special place in his heart for the “nobodies”. God cries out for each one of his precious creations. His heart breaks for them. He calls them to Himself. He longs to see each individual call out “Abba, Father. I need you. I love you!” He cries when we do not receive his love – his greatest sacrifice – his son. Yesterday, I felt an ounce of his love for the people of Nicaragua – more specifically for those living in our barrios and dump. All I could do was weep. My heart, or God’s heart, was broken. Words were inadequate. Tears. Brokenness. Compassion. Intense love, beyond my understanding. That is what I am called to…
