That Friday seemed like a normal day. It started off really great, actually. I woke up and watched the sunrise from my usual table next to the pond. I spent time just sitting with God and listening to the birds sing their sweet sunrise melody. After eating a delicious breakfast (delicious because I slopped way too much Nutella on my toast), we loaded up the vans and headed to the preschool. The next four hours consisted of teaching, chasing and loving on about 25 four-year olds. I’m convinced that little kids have a sixth sense and can tell when someone’s a pushover. Those precious little monsters walked all over me the entire morning. We left the preschool around 1pm to do another three hours’ worth of kids’ programs in a squatter camp community called Diepsloot.
Diepsloot is easily the most impoverished community I’ve ever seen. There are nearly 150,000 people who live in 2x3m shacks made of scrap wood, metal and tarps. The unemployment rate is nearly 45%, and many people are sick and living with HIV. Little kids run around barefoot through “gray water” which consists of sewage, trash, glass, dead rats, etc. It’s actually so sad. When I was younger, I ran from this kind of reality. Deep down I knew that there was brokenness in the world and that millions of people live in extreme poverty, but I was apathetic to all of it. I refused to really think about it because it was easier not to.
Anyway, we got home that evening around 5pm, showered and got ready for our dinner plans as a team. Around 7pm we arrived at a place called Monte Casino (for dinner and a movie…not gambling. Promise). Monte Casino is basically a piece of Vegas stuck in the middle of South Africa. I don’t even enjoy Vegas in Vegas, and here I found myself in Vegas across the world. And that’s when it hit me – culture shock.
It hit really hard. Within a matter of two hours, I experienced the poorest of the poor and the richest of the rich, and I felt like I was spinning around stuck somewhere in the middle. After dinner most of my team went to watch a movie while I sat in a bookstore counting down the minutes till I could leave that place. I ended up spending the entire two hours wrestling with the Lord. I fought to understand why my brothers and sisters in the “squatter camp” communities have to live like that.
My heart was wrung as I researched facts about the unequal distribution of wealth in South Africa. I experienced extreme hopelessness in Diepsloot earlier in the day, and looking around the casino, I witnessed just as much hopelessness. People had more than they needed, yet they carried a similar expression of despair. In a day I had tangibly experienced both sides of the coin, and it broke me. When I say “my heart was wrung,” I mean it actually ached. A lot.
I didn’t get a clear answer that night in the casino as to why some people have so much and others have so little. I spent the rest of the month asking the Lord for clarity and understanding, and I never really got an answer. But I want to share what I’m learning and what I keep coming back to. I might never understand why some people suffer through poverty their entire lives. But what I do know is that God doesn’t intend for people to suffer. He doesn’t want people to live in those terrible conditions. His heart breaks for them too. The hurt I felt in seeing this suffering, he feels times infinity. And the people in the casino need Jesus just as much as the people in the squatter camps. Hopelessness looks different across cultures and across socio-economic classes, but it’s the same root. And here’s the thing – Jesus steps into these places and offers hope. Where hopelessness abounds, hopefulness prevails.
I can’t solve South Africa’s problems. I can’t make life a whole lot better for these people. But I know the One who can. And I get the privilege of going out to these communities to share Hope with every individual I meet. I get the opportunity to have a conversation with a person, listen to their story, look them in the eyes and tell them how much they’re loved. Because my heavenly Father loves them infinitely more than I ever could, and He offers hope beyond this present suffering. He gives them a future. He has already solved this country’s problems.
What I learned this past month is that every day I wake up, I can choose to cling to Hope through the hurt. Like I mentioned, I haven’t always had a heart for the brokenness of the world. That’s a piece of my story. Before I really knew and accepted Jesus into my life I chose to avoid other peoples’ realities that might be hard to see. I knew there was extreme poverty in the world, but I always turned away from it. Because part of me knew it would be really hard to feel for the people who call those living conditions home. I chose apathy for so many years. But not anymore. When I allowed Jesus to change my heart, He broke every chain of apathy and replaced it with compassion. What I used to numb myself to is what I now feel the deepest about. Could I avoid all of this and go back to being apathetic? Absolutely. Will I? Absolutely not. My heart is changed, and while it might be hard at times, I feel a piece of what Jesus feels for this world.
I’ll continue to fight for individuals. I’ll continue to love all people, to serve them and speak truth and life over them. I’ll never cease praying for an end to the world’s hopelessness. And I’ll never stop walking in hope and sharing hope with everyone I come in contact with. While I hurt for the world’s brokenness, I’m grateful to feel a piece of Jesus’ compassion for this world.
