The first thing I remember hearing about Colombia during training camp is that it was a country of contradiction. Training camp took place in the valley city of Medellin between some of the most beautiful mountains I have ever seen. Within these beautiful mountains, there are incredible people, blended cultures, and multiple aspects of life that constantly remind me that I’m far away from home. There are millions of people living in the valley, with tiny homes stacked on top of each other. There never seems to be a quiet or dull moment as the streets are filled with people forever on the move, yelling and selling anything from avocadoes or baked goods from baskets to appliances from carts on wheels. Motorcycles and hatchbacks zig and zag throughout the streets, throughout the street performers, and throughout the beggars and vendors. Amidst all the crazy, it’s difficult to be still. To stop and get to know someone personally.
Though I tend to walk in blind optimism and giving people the benefit of the doubt, it’s been difficult to let go of the skepticism and constant fear that people are going to take advantage of you or try to take your stuff. Medellin is known for being deeply affected by violence, corruption, addictions, and homelessness. We’ve been told that everyone we come into contact with is no stranger to grief; everyone has been affected by the darkness in some way. Because of Medellin’s ideal weather, it’s a huge spot where the homeless stay and drug addicts live on the streets. The government is very interested in tourism and making the city appealing to the eye, but as they beautify one part of the city, the homeless are kicked out and forced to relocate to a new “barrio” or part of town.
A country of contradiction? I’ve found this to be true.
We loaded up the van one evening during training camp and drove over to a different part of town where we were going to attend a church service and do ministry afterwards. For the 20 minutes before church, as people walked in, everyone was silent and praying. It was interesting to watch the small room fill up with people; homeless men, women off the streets, recovering drug addicts, and more. When the band started to play, that room erupted in worship like I’ve never seen before. Though we were unfamiliar with most of the Spanish lyrics, many of us were brought to tears with the sincerity of worship that filled the room.
After church, we were briefed on the ministry, the process, and the program. This ministry we partnered with started many years ago with one man bravely going out to the homeless. Over the years it has turned into an every Wednesday night thing, where they go out in small teams, bring agua panela y pan (sugar water and bread), and talk about their program to anyone on the streets who is ready to walk away from life of various kinds of addictions. They are invited to come sleep at the church, eventually mandated to attend church, encouraged to enter the rehab program, and work alongside the ministry turning their lives around and then going out to change others. The leaders told us that when we went out tonight, we’d see some tough stuff. Even though most of the people we’d be talking to would be lost fin their high, we wouldn’t be in danger if we followed the rules and stuck to the plan. So off we went.
We pulled up to a scene I’ll never forget… Hundreds upon hundreds of people wandering the streets. Everyone was sitting in filth and trash. The stench of fumes, smoke, alcohol, and body odor was inescapable. There were prostitutes, old men with young girls, and half-dressed people wandering around. It almost looked like a scene from the walking dead. I broke off with a few girls and as we were walking, we passed a man sitting smoking on the curb but something caused us to turn back. His name was Samuel. He asked us to keep going so he could keep using, saying he had no interest in what we had to say and that he was not interested in the bread and water. I was tempted to move on as it was easy to see that he was not in a state to really even have a conversation, but the girls I was with chose at that moment, to sit around him. He was jittery, his answers were delayed, and his eyes. He couldn’t focus on one of us, his eyes were a distant, cloudy grey, and they were rolling around to the back of his head. Though he was reluctant, he even said he was tired of living this way. So we prayed. In just a few moments of prayer, prayer for reconciliation with his father and prayer for an end to this lifestyle, his body calmed down. He sat still. And when he opened his eyes, not only were they laser focused, but they were a deep, beautiful brown! Samuel sobered up right in front of us. He took little time to say thank you and shake our hands before hopping up and going directly to the van for more information.
In an area of darkness, all encompassing, completely engulfing darkness, we carried light. We brought hope. And in that moment, I believe that one man’s life was changed forever.
