I wanted to take this time to let you all now how the story with Thomas played out. As some of you read a few blogs back, I became friends with a group of street boys in Ethiopia last month. We met regularly to talk about life and the struggles that came with being homeless, shamed, beaten by police, hungry and discouraged beyond belief. They would wait for us around 9:00 every Monday and Thursday night in anticipation for our time together. Some ate the food we brought them, some just stuck with their cigarettes and others listened to our conversation from afar. It was always a good time. I became special friends with a boy named Thomas. We agreed to a soccer match.. if I won all his friends would make fun of him. It'd be the talk of the streets. If he won.. I promised I'd buy him some shoes.
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"Where is Thomas?! Did he chicken out of our soccer game??" I asked the boys as Evan and I approached our typical meet up spot behind the bus stop. Most of the boys were more despondent than usual this night though.. they typically perked up when they saw us coming to visit. But not tonight. Tonight was different. After some discussion in Amharic, my translator and good friend Abay told me "Joe. I have saddening news.. Thomas was put in jail last night and will be there for one year." It was a hard one to swallow. Just when some hope and life was starting to emerge in the group of boys they were immediately reminded why life was miserable and hopeless. Thomas' best friend Habtamu told me he'd take me to visit him one day if I'd like. We never got a chance to.. but I did become a friend to Habtamu. And I had the honor of being apart of his story and witness his life changed forever.
Now let me tell you about Habtamu. From the first night I met him he looked like a leader. It was something about how he carried himself. I always wondered why this guy was on the streets.. he had so much potential. One night a little scuffle broke out between us and an Ethiopian that had been drinking too much and Habtamu made sure we got in a taxi and left safely. The younger boys clinged to him. He seemed like the older brother of the group. I looked up to this guys' character. After about the fifth visit Habtamu asked to speak to me in private. Abay translated.. "Joe, Habtamu wants to change his life but doesn't know how. He can't stand living here on the streets any longer. He is asking if you would possibly be willing to help him buy a school uniform so that he can start studying Natural Science." At that moment I decided I can't help every single person there on the streets.. but I could help Habtamu. And I know Haptamu would in turn help his friends one day. After talking to Miky, the leader of WSFG (the organization we were working with), he said it would be too difficult for him to attend university when he literally had no money. He would have no time to work, and he would eventually starve. He wouldn't be able to focus in class because of the malnutrition. Miky knows.. he's been there. So he gave me a better idea..
If I helped him get into a construction training school, Habtamu would have a potential job in less than 5 months. In 10, he would have a larger income than Miky. It would cost me $223.00 to enroll him. I remembered my aunt Susie gave me $300 to spend on whatever I wanted to in the 11 countries. I wanted to spend it on my friend.
I set out to visit him one night to tell him the good news, but when I saw him I could barely recognize him. His face was so swollen he was almost unrecognizable. I asked what happened and he told me he got beaten by the police for sleeping in the wrong place on the street. He couldn't chew so he hadn't eaten in 3 days. The next day we went to the hospital, then to the construction training school to get him registered. He would start in two days. I can't explain the confusion Habtamu was dealing with. He would ask Miky, "Why is he doing this?" "Why does he want to help me?" I told him it was because he was my friend.. and I wanted to help my friend live a better life. Grace. It's confusing. It doesn't make sense to us. I ask God the same question.. "Why?" "Why do you want a relationship with me?" "Why do you call me your son?". Grace. Don't try and make too much sense of it.. you'll waste your time. I don't just want to hear about this grace anymore.. I want to start living it.
I knew that it wouldn't be my job to disciple Habtamu. I just wanted to show him the most ridiculous, unexplainable love that Jesus offers us everyday. I wanted to show him that someone believed in him and was for him. But the guys at the rest home (the house where the former street boys live, my dear dear friends) promised me that they would look out for Habtamu. I asked Habtamu, "Do you know much about the Christ?" He responded "Not much." I asked "Would you want to learn more about him?" "Yes, I really would", he said. I told him I don't want him looking at me like some American handout man.. I wanted to be his friend. I wanted to stay in contact through email. He said he's never used a computer, but the boys at the home promised they would show him. He said he is looking forward to staying in touch, and when I visit him again in one year.. he'd be a new man. He said he'll try his best to be a better person. I told him it wasn't so much about doing his best to be better person.. because eventually that would fail him. I told him the good news of Jesus was that HE would never fail him, and that HE would be the one to give him the strength to do what he couldn't do in his own strength. Habtamu nodded. I told him to tell me when he got a girlfriend. All three of us laughed. He told me to do the same.
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I still don't really know how to process the time I spent with those guys. But those moments.. they seemed surreal at times. Sitting in the dark cold streets with boys who I felt I had literally nothing in common with. I felt like we came from two different worlds to be honest. In my world, people worried about what they would do on the weekend for fun, were deathly afraid of being "bored", complained about the job they had, complained about the class they had to go to, the book they had to read and were never satisfied with the food served in the cafeteria (I'm so guilty of every single one.) In their world, people worried about being beaten or robbed while they tried to sleep on the streets, were deathly afraid of the piercing cold weather that came with the early morning dawn, fought a fierce battle with addictions and suicidal thoughts daily, and counted themselves lucky if they had something more than just milk once a day. But I did learn one thing after a month of meeting with them. I learned that we had more in common that I realized. We were both humans.. bearing the very image of God and were simply looking for something or someone to love us.. to care about us. Yeah they were hungry and loved when we brought food, but most times they would set the food aside and forget about it. They just wanted to sit with us, laugh together, hold hands and try their best to speak english. They very seldom had people, especially "rich" people, hug them, put their arms around them, give them noogies, hold their hands, look them in their eyes and simply call them friend. These were moments I will never forget.. ever. I made some lifelong friends along the way too. Habtamu is doing great. He's going to the construction school 3 times a week and washes cars on his free time so that he can eat. He regularly comes in to see the boys at the rest home. He says he is "inspired" by those who follow Jesus. As we said our goodbyes I gave him my favorite jacket and told him to take care of it. He gave me the famous Ethiopian shoulder bump handshake and said in his broken english.. "Thank you very much." I told him that is what friends do for each other. The money was no big deal at all. Just the push and encouragement and reminder that someone was for him was what he really needed. Don't we all need to know that someone is for us? We're not called to help every single person in this world.That can get overwhelming. But we can help one person. It starts with that.
3 months down guys. This month I have the priveledge of working with street boys again. I made a new friend yesterday.. his name is Kim. His father is in jail and his mother died a few years back. He roams the streets at the age of 17 these days. He said he wants to learn more about who God is but is afraid of church. I told him he doesn't have to go to church to know who God is.. we'll study together. He said he'd love to. I told him we would meet in a week. He said he will be waiting. Please pray that I would be filled each morning with the strong love of the Father. That I would breathe in His Presence and breathe out His blessing.
“Jesus does not call us to do what he did, but to be as he was, permeated with love. Then the doing of what he did and said becomes the natural expression of who we are in him.” – Dallas Willard.
Habtamu and I
