This wasn’t supposed to happen.
My heart was safe. Protected.
Not to be broken, hurting, 11 times again.
Then I met him.
Cristofer.
Coming out on the field again, I was excited about a new role. Squad leading. My focus would be different, more internal. Squadleading. I’d go out and do ministry, yes, but with the teams, with my focus still on them. And my plan was that my heart would be safer because of it. I’d only give it away once, to the squad, and wouldn’t have to deal with the pain of leaving. Because that was hard. On my first Race, it was so hard to find that balance. Pouring out your entire heart, your entire self to someone or some cause, but knowing that in 30 days (or less) you’d be leaving, off to a new country with a new ministry, expected to pour out everything all over again. In leadership though, I thought I wouldn’t have to worry about the discomfort of separation until 4 months later, when I leave and trust that S squad is going to be all right. No, not just all right, but able to flourish and thrive, with room to grow into the spectacular men and women of God they are but don’t see yet.
Boy was I wrong.
The ministry here in Tegucigalpa is simple, but so powerful. The teams are teaching English in one community, working on the farm they live on, and ministering to another very low-income community called Los Pinos. That’s where Christofer lives. He’s 15 and lives with his 3 brothers and 2 cousins in a 3-walled “house” that’s smaller than most American kitchens. He’s smart and funny and quite frankly, a stud. But he doesn’t see it. He looks to things like paint thinner to get through. And I get it. I can honestly say I understand why he does it. It’s cheap, there’s nothing else to do, and it takes away the pains of hunger that come from getting only a few meals aweek. I get it, but I hate it. There’s something about this boy, this young man, that has truly stolen my heart. And I wasn’t even offering it to begin with. It feels like he reached in my chest and grabbed hold of it, running off, leaving me frantically trying to get it back, unaware that he probably needs it a hell of a lot more than I do. But I’m running after him nonetheless. He may have stolen my heart, but the Lord let him have it. Even when I’m not around him, there’s something deep in my spirit yearning to help him, yearning to just hold him and tell him that everything is going to be okay. So here I am, again, trying to find a balance. Of loving these teams, and loving these boys.
(picture: luis, dex, and cristo)
But there’s only 2 days left.
I’m completely dependent on the Lord at this point and I have no choice but to trust Him. Maybe that’s what this last week has been about — getting me to this place with God. Either way, I’m having to trust Him with everything: that He’ll use me, that He’ll use everyone here, that He has a plan for Cristo, that change is coming, and the He is revealing Himself more and more to this young man every day. And I have hope. He’s shown me clips of Cristo well past where he is now, and its amazing. It’s just a process to get him to that point. So please pray. Pray for Cristo. Pray for Tony (the contact here). Pray that the Lord will use me, somehow, someway. Pray for all the boys here. Pray for change and radical, life-altering transformation. And pray for freedom. Freedom from the darkness they live in so that they may walk in the glorious freedom their Father means for them to walk in.
Freedom in Jesus’ name.
Cristo, my love.
