Last weekend I visited a place here in Manila called Smoky Mountain. Smoky Mountain is a former trash dump where the city’s waste once went. On this mountain of compacted trash and dirt there is a community made up of the poorest of the poor.
The conditions are miserable and the children are caked head to toe in dirt. We washed their faces and hands and cut their fingernails. As we sang songs with them and fed them a hearty meal, I forgot that they lived on a heap of trash. The kids were kids, regardless of their circumstances. And they were so hungry for love. I’d put one kid down only to have another tugging on my sleeve, begging to be picked up. So I twirled them around and tickled them and made them smile.
But in the face of all that crippling poverty, I couldn’t help but think that I wasn’t doing much good. How could one morning of my time do anything to change the situation in which these kids lived?
It was only later that I began to see the significance of what we did. That same day my devotional book said something that helped me understand:
“Even in the darkest situations, you can exult – rejoice jubilantly – in My righteousness! Nothing can tarnish this righteousness, which I have woven into shining garments of salvation for you to wear forever.”
Smoky Mountain was certainly a dark situation where hopelessness threatens to overpower any hope of light. But going into it, I was prepared. Extreme poverty is terrible to see but even in the midst of it, I can say that my God is righteous and just and fair. There is suffering now, but there will be justice. God loves the children on Smoky Mountain and because He loves them, He will ensure that there is justice for them. I also read this:
“This world is increasingly dark, but the Light of My Presence is as bright as ever. In fact, My Glory shines more vividly against the dark backdrop of evil.”
Acts of service done out of a love for Christ are lights to the world. And the deeper the surrounding darkness is, the brighter the light shines. If I picked up and twirled around a little toddler back home, I would be doing God’s will by loving that kid and giving them a few seconds of laughter. But at Smoky Mountain, that action was much more profound. For all I know, some of those kids only get embraced when the church comes to feed them. Their parents might not care about them enough to hug them. Something as seemingly insignificant as picking them up, acknowledging their existence, showing that I care who they are…those little things shine with God’s light so much more because of the surrounding darkness.
We don’t always know how our actions reverberate in others’ lives. We don’t know how deep the darkness is for everyone. What might seem to us like nothing more than a basic act of kindness could change a life. Not just on Smoky Mountain, but in every day of our lives. As the saying goes, Be kind, for everyone is fighting a hard battle. The smallest light that you bring might just be enough to hold back the darkness.
“The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned.”
Isaiah 9:2
Update: after two months in Manila, I will be spending my last month in Tacloban, on one of the smaller southern islands where KIM has another base. Prayers for a smooth transition would be appreciated!
