With the faint taste of Starbucks lingering on my tongue, I held Luis close as he clung to my neck, the pungent stench of glue radiating out of his pores.
We had just enjoyed a peaceful off-day spent at a very nice, very expensive mall in Quezon City. We had indulged in pleasing our American taste buds with Dairy Queen and Wendy’s. Feeling refreshed and ready to head back to our ministry site, we left the fancy mall and hit the streets looking for a jeepney (small bus) that would take us back up the mountain to our remote camp site, knowing it was going to be an adjustment leaving urban life back to the stillness of Mount Sinai.
What we didn’t expect was to find the exact kids that we had brought up to camp last week, begging on the side of the road right where we were trying to catch a jeepney.
My heart leapt when I saw Christian and Luis and Joemarie, boys I had come to love and cherish over our weekend spent with them up at camp. When they recognized us, they jumped into our arms, embracing us. But these were not the same kids that I had played basketball with just a week ago. Sure, they were wearing the same clothes and still didn’t have on any shoes, but these boys were very different. We were now entering their world. A world where they didn’t know when they would get their next meal. A world where it was cheaper to buy a few drops of solvent to sniff that would take away the pains of hunger than to purchase actual food. A world where they ran in fear of police, afraid they would be carted off to the local holding cell where they would be beaten and perhaps forced into a street gang. These were not our boys.
We hopped on a jeepney to Cogeo, with the promise that we would see them tomorrow, knowing our team was headed back to the streets the next day to visit the boys and play with them at Quezon Park.
But as I sat in a crammed jeepney for the 2-hour trek back up the mountain with dozens of confused Filipino eyes upon me, I wept. I wept over my entitlement in thinking I needed an off-day from ministry knowing these kids never get to “take a break” from the streets. I wept over the injustice of sweet little Luis being corrupted by the world of drugs at age 8. I wept over the assurance that I had a nutritious meal awaiting me back at camp but these boys might go to bed hungry. I wept because I wanted to do something, I wanted to fight this cruel injustice but didn’t know where to start.
And then the Lord spoke. You don’t have to be a poverty tourist, Grace. You don’t have to see atrocities and go back to sipping your Starbucks. You don’t have to have one moving moment and go back to your regular scheduled programming. Prayer is not nothing.
I had received word that morning from my friend Yesenia back in Nicaragua that her brother Manuel is miraculously being freed from prison in December! Upon hearing Manuel’s story, I had been praying for his liberation day and night. The Lord listened to my prayers and is restoring justice to my Nicaraguan family! Prayer is not nothing.
In fact, without prayer, we can do nothing. My meager efforts without the strength and guidance of Jesus will amount to nothing if He is not on my side, empowering me to action. I was reminded of Joshua 10, where Joshua cried out to the Lord to make the sun stand still – and He did! For a full day, the sun remained in the sky so that the Israelites could defeat the Amorites. This same God who can make the sun stand still is listening to my prayers for justice for these sweet street boys in the Philippines. This same God is moving beyond my pleas for mercy and restoring order to our broken world.
Therefore, precious reader, would you consider joining me in being a prayer warrior for Joemarie, Christian, Luis, Krispin, Jomar, Joshua, and the hundreds of other kids that are left to sleep on the streets of Manila every night. Pray for their protection, and perhaps even consider joining Mike & Natalie, our contacts here in the Philippines, in providing a drop-in home for them in Quezon City by visiting their site: http://growourworld.com/
Forever His,
Grace
