Welcome to “The Bronx” of Colombia.
A series of designated streets in the middle of Medellin that are barricaded off by the police. Streets in which things from cocaine to prostitution, and everything in between, are completely permissible without punishment as long as they remain within the designated perimeter. Streets lined with literally hundreds upon hundreds of homeless, drug addicts, and prostitutes going about their nightly routine.
As you walk along these streets at night, you cannot help but feel like you have been separated from reality. Men literally laying in their own waste while sticking heroine needles into each others arms. Teen girls so high that they won’t remember who they sold themselves to for that night. Children, literally children, passing around crack pipes. Men and women digging through piles of decaying garbage and then passing out there when the last hit pushes them over the edge.
This is the reality of “The Bronx”.
In the midst of this, we bring them aguapanela (sweet water and bread). We sit with them in these streets, hear their stories, and attempt to show them a new type of hope.
The phrase that I felt God continuously giving me during our times on the street is “child of God”. We often fall into the habit of saying someone IS just homeless, or a drug addict, or a prostitute. We label them that, we make that their identity, and that becomes all we see.
But the thing is, there is a big difference between circumstance and identity.
Their circumstance may be homeless, drug addict, or prostitute, but their identity is a child of God. God loves and longs for each and every single one of these people just as he longs for you and me. When you start seeing every single person on this street the way God sees them, things change drastically.
One particular man I met last night told me that he has been using drugs since the age of 12. He is now 36. The hopelessness and longing in his eyes, for something, anything, that could give peace to his restless soul and desperate spirit was overwhelming. He had been high for so long he knew nothing else. He poured out his heart to us as we told him that there was a way out of the life he has been living. We prayed for him, told him about the foundation, and told him that if he truly wanted to change his life, it could start tomorrow. All he had to do was come.
This morning, I had not yet finished breakfast when I was met with the tearful embrace of this man. A man held captive by the enemy for so long was ready to break free.
How great is our God!
“The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1:5)
This is the verse I have been clinging to this month. In the midst of some of the greatest darkness I have ever witnessed, where things genuinely feel far beyond hopeless, the truth remains that the darkness has not (and will NEVER) overcome the light.
We can look at the statistics of the astonishing number of Gods children that are homeless and addicted in Colombia and feel like God has abandoned this place. Or we can look into the eyes of one of these people at a time and see the soul God is fervently pursuing.
“God is light, and in him is no darkness at all.” (1 John 1:5)
I beg each of you for continued prayer over Gods children in this place. One by one, God is bringing his children home.
All my love,
Em
