As 12 gringos and 8 translators pull up to a homeless community in Medellín, Colombia, our training earlier that night was ringing fresh in our minds. “This is a dark place with a lot spiritual bondage”.
On the bus ride, there was nothing it of the ordinary for Medellín. Since we were staying in a rougher area of the city we always had to be indoors by 9. Every Wednesday night however was a little different. We went into an even darker area of the city, we sought out the broken, hurting, homeless people of Medellín through the darkness of night. The van soon began to slow and we soon as we pulled onto the street we would be serving on we were greeted by an unexpected scene. As we turned the corner I couldn’t help but let an “Oh my gosh” slip out of my mouth. Here, where we had plans to hand out Aquapanela (a warm sugar cane drink) and bread was a place many homeless, drug addicts and alcoholics called home. The scene is set by a dark, trash covered, and damp street which is barely visible as it is being blocked by around 200-300 homeless men and women crowded into the first half of the block. And even more are dispersed throughout the rest of the block.
As the shock of this new scene started to wear off, the faces of the men and women began to stand out. Humans just like me and you living in these conditions. But the reality of the situation had yet to be experienced. As we got out of the bus, we prayed first as a group. After that, we set up our station and had a few volunteers to hand out the aquapanela con pan. The rest of us split up into smaller groups (a few gringos with a translator) to walk up and down the block. As we walked, we saw these people trapped in this place because they believed there was no way out. One man stood in the middle of the street staring up at the night sky saying something unintelligible, another with crippled legs selling drugs, another with a band around his arm and a needle in the other hand, we continued to walk as we watched him inject this foreign substance into his bloodstream. Another woman stood off in the distance with her shirt only half on her body, another woman was dancing. drugs being rolled into smokes, glass bottles being passed around, glue being snuffed and smoke being blown into the air. As I watched this scene unravel before my eyes, I wanted so badly to bring hope to these people! You see, they all had something in common: pain. They were all trying to ease the pain they were experiencing. Some were from the states, fathers, husbands, pastors, lawyers. Some were from the area and had been there for the majority of their lives. The amazing thing was, no matter where they had come from, once they were there it was nearly impossible for them to get out.
Pain is part of this life and we all choose to deal with it in the way we think is best. Unfortunately, some ways are just a temporary fix. As we learn to numb out the pain we are experiencing, we find ourselves also numb to a lot of things we want to feel; happiness, joy, love, peace, etc. I know this numbness because I’ve been there. I used lots of things to numb myself. But I encountered a problem with every method I tried; the pain ALWAYS came back sometimes with increasing intensity! I felt trapped in this cycle of addiction to numbing. Until one day when I reached what I thought I had wanted; complete numbness. I was unfulfilled and unsatisfied. I was believing a lie: that what I was doing was going to satisfy, until one day I finally realized I needed help. It was then when I reached out for accountability and fierce pursuit of the Lord that I found hope, love, fellowship, and true freedom in community. You see, these people in Colombia are just like you and I. There addictions or coping mechanisms may just look different. However, at the end of the night, they still feel all alone, even on that incredibly crowded street.
As we walked back to get onto the van I turned around one last time to pray over this street of people. Even when I didn’t think it was possible, my heart broke more then it already was. I was looking back on a scene that looked much like one from The Walking Dead. People who couldn’t control their own bodies, people who were doing all they could to survive but not feel, people who just needed the Lord. Little did I know at that first visit that I would return 2 more times. I would have the opportunity to pray for more of them, talk with more of them, and to share a small flicker of hope to them. A flicker much like those of the lighters that appeared in the darkness of night all over that street.
Parts of this blog were taken from a blog post by my squad mate Rob Ames.
https://robames.theworldrace.org/
