Living in Your Filth

This morning I woke up exhausted with a headache and
debating whether or not I could muster up the energy to just get out of bed.
Last night we played soccer with the guys until about midnight, and then I had
a ton of work to do, so I only slept about two hours (I don’t sleep much these
days anyways). However, as much as I wanted to just lie in bed, I decided that
our plans for the day were much too important to pass up.

I hopped out of bed, put on a dirty pair of clothes, and
we headed out around 8:00. We traveled to a part of town called “El Milagro”,
which means “The Miracle”. Oddly enough, this part of town appeared as though
it had never seen a miracle…yet. We refer to it as “The Dump”. I’ve heard of
places like these around the world, but never have I personally walked upon the
piles of trash and filth or seen the faces of those who spend day after day
there. As we drove closer to the site, the stench began to fill my nose. I
eventually got used to it, and I wondered if it ever bothered the workers.

When we arrived, some of the workers gathered as we began
with a devotional and a few worship songs. We talked about how we started our
mornings, and I realized what a different life we led. We split up into small
groups and prayed over them, and nearly each one of them prayed for work, good
health, and to be strengthened in their spiritual journey.

Afterwards, we went outside walls of The Dump to see where
they lived. The homes were made of all kinds of trash, and they lived amongst pigs,
rats, and a mountain of filth. We walked to the cemetery where we discovered
that even some of their graves were covered with nothing more than rocks and
garbage. As I looked up upon the dusty, dry, and dirty land, I noticed a set of
footprints.

As I looked at the footprints in the sand, I wondered
about the children that grew up in the dump. Were they all destined to spend
their entire lives in such filth, following the footsteps of their parents?
Just because their family didn’t have the proper documents to receive a good
job, were they destined to lives their lives in filth, spending every moment of
the day digging through other people’s waste just to earn a living? One of the
ministers told me that there really wasn’t much hope for their future, that
once they were born into The Dump, that was were they remained.

Less than 500 ft. away was the state prison. In the prison, the
inmates receive electricity, running water, and even a sufficient amount of
food – pretty much everything that the people of The Dump lacked. I began to
wonder why people would chose to live in filth instead of inside the walls of
comfort, but then I realized: that was their price for freedom.