Hello from the Philippines! My squad and I arrived here safely at 3am on 9/11. This country is incredibly beautiful and the people are the most kind and generous individuals I’ve ever met. It’s only been one week and there is already so much to tell! Here is a snippet of what’s been going on.
Within my first week of living here in the Philippines I have had the privilege of participating in three separate feedings, one of the ministry opportunities with Kids International Manila (KIM) that involves two boxes of a hot rice/chicken/veggie concoction and two ladles. After an hour long drive through the crazy Filipino traffic, my team and I pulled off the paved roads and drove a ways on a muddied and broken dirt road lined with scrawny street dogs and little shops until we arrived at a community known as Tent City. It sits at the bottom of a lush valley in the Philippines and is home to a couple thousand people. Before we even began to call out “Feeding! Feeding!” kids had already begun to chase after the van, cups, bowls, and baggies in hand. Our driver Zach, one of the interns at KIM, parked the van and we all unloaded to begin the feeding. Barefooted and fresh faced, kids ages two and up began to crowd around the back hatch. Some were smiley and eager-eyed and others were a little more subdued. Still, they lifted their containers high, hoping whomever serving the food would take hold of their cup. Once the food ran out, which it heartbreakingly did, we spent some time getting to know the kids. I asked them about school and sports but for the most part they just said, “Tita (Aunt)! Up! Up!” And they would huddle around waiting to be held and spun around. I became particularly attached to a little girl named Dia, around 3 years old with a short bob and green polka dot dress, who after playing with her for a while, took my hand and led me to her home. She wanted me to meet her mother and grandmother and see where she lived. To see what she loved and where she came from.
During the feeding on Monday, I was struck with the word urgency. These kids came to the feeding with a sense of urgency and spirit of persistence. Though they came in sorrow and in joy, were dirtied and had only an eclectic collection of containers, they ran toward nourishment with earnest and urgent anticipation. And I began to hear God ask me where that spiritual urgency is within me.
I want to run towards Jesus each day, famished in spirit, with the same urgency that these kids run towards a feeding. I want to be hungry for his nourishment each morning and fight my way through the mess even if I all I have to offer is a broken cup or plastic baggie. I want to crowd around the feet of my Savior with other believers begging to be filled untilmy cup overflows. I want to lift my arms and beg to be held and I want to introduce God to the ones I love and invite him into the spaces I inhabit. I pray these things for myself. I pray them over my squad and my friends and family. And I pray these things over the American church – that though we are physically rich, there is a great and awesome God that longs to nourish our weary spirits.
God reminded me at the feeding the other day that we’re all beggars too. And we’re famished and empty. But he also told me he’s waiting. With a ladle in hand and a chest to rest against. And lucky for us, his feedings never run dry.
