We wake up at 6am. 6am comes early, the sun is still rising, and the world is starting to wake up.
We make our way to our contact’s house. They feed us doughnuts and tea, they know how much we like tea.
We grab soccer balls and goal posts and make our way through alleys and across streets to a field. The sun is getting hot. We set up the goals and play a quick warm up game before the kids come. They have gone to get the kids and bring them here. We are going to spend all morning playing.
Finally, the kids come. They come running. Before you know it, you have a kid on your back and another wrapped around your legs. They have a lot of energy. I don’t. But their faces, those beautiful faces. They smile a lot. And they like to ask our names a lot. They laugh at our names, we try to pronounce theirs.
We pick teams, and then we play.
There’s a lot of screaming, laughing, and chaos. These kids are good though. They skirt around the field like it’s no big deal. There are high fives and shouts of encouragement. They take the game seriously, I try to but I can’t help but watch the faces. The faces of the boys from the slums. They have so much joy. I look in their eyes and I see so much potential. They are talented. They are funny. They yearn for love, for attention. There is hope in their eyes. They have not given up. Their circumstances have not tarnished their identity.
We teach them songs and we perform a skit. We tell them that we have access to a powerful God. A God who gave David, a small boy like themselves, strength to conquer a giant. We tell them that they have access to Him too. Then we pray, and then we eat. Our ministry feeds these boys every week. The food is good. Their company is good. There is singing and dancing and laughing. Once again they are on our backs. And before we want to leave, it’s time for them to go. There are hugs and goodbyes. They are going back to the slums. They are going back to dirt and mud. They are going back to a home where the parents only show up at night. They are going back to an insufficient food and water supply. They will be hungry and they will be dirty. But next week, they will come back. We will play again and they will get to encounter Jesus again. They get to choose Jesus.
In Him they are not dirty. They are not outcasts. They are chosen, they are loved, they are worthy, and they are cherished. To me, they are beautiful. They are worth the time. These boys from the slums have been given a chance, given a hope. They get to run in the light.
