“It is not only important to know that God came to this world, but HOW He came.”–My Grandma's devotional calendar that I quote too often.
Our transportation stopped and we stared at each other while our mission contacts told us what to do. When everything was said and done, we continued to stare at each other. Finally, one of the girls in our group looked up and said, “Anyone wanna pray?”
Knowing my past in working with kids in Denver, a couple people looked at me. I raised my hand and prayed what I had learned in living with 15 months with homeless kids:
“God, this is your sanctuary. Let us know that this place is sacred. Let us know that You are here. Let us be your people, and let YOU be our God. Amen.”
We opened the white van doors. The smell wasn't as bad as I prepped myself for it to be. Back in the states when I thought of a city dump, caricatures of rundown jukeboxes, old mannequins, and forgotten treasures tend to come to mind. I had this protective image in my head shattered when I saw the houses jutting out from the piles of ripping plastic garbage bags. A few heads popped out of them when they heard our van doors slam shut. We plodded around telling people in our best Spanish to come to the van for worship. Many of them gave us looks of mistrust.
I can't say I blamed them.
A bunch of gringos rolling up speaking horribly functional Spanish talking to me about worship would have scared me too.
We began to play guitars and sing our songs in English and Spanish. It was quiet until we sang the word “Dios!” The adults in the group lit up and tried to sing along. It must have looked weird: A bunch of vagabond missionaries and Guatemalan dump dwellers singing in Spanglish worship songs. At the end, the kids began to talk and jeer at us. When I started this thing a week ago, I was told that the more people make fun of you, the more they love you.
I didn't believe it until now. After one of the kids told my friend that his beard was “feo!” (ugly) we joined together and began to share the school supply packets we had made for them.
When I saw the smiles on their faces, I realized why Christ said, “Blessed are the poor in spirit”.
I am the poor one.
