I’m walking in the ghetto. I walk in the middle of the dusty street, because there are so few vehicles here. There is no avoiding the trash, rocks, or the mud made from throwing out the dishwater in the street. Small houses are made from concrete and sheets of tin. Electricity is illegally wired from leaning telephone poles. Over the past few weeks, I have seen only a few of the children with toys, that are not rocks or trash. A few people pass by quietly, a few windows offer homemade food, a few stands sell alcohol. Life stands still here.
You’d expect the people who live here to be aggressive, but they are just sad. They think they will never amount to more, that they will live and die in the same four makeshift, apathetic walls. They think they are hopeless.
Jesus chose to enter into this life. He looked at the broken flip-flops that run through dust, rocks, and trash, and wanted to wash those feet. He saw the mentally ill and addicted and offered to help. He sought out the forgotten to tell them they were cherished and precious in the eyes of God. He chose to become one of the poor, to live and die in this place. He wanted nothing more than to restore these broken people to an overwhelmingly abundant life in him.
There is so much potential for God to move here. He’ll sit on the dirt floors to share a
meal. He’ll listen to their stories, and empathize. He’ll embrace the disabled, who others only tolerate. He’ll wash dishes, make soup, and play with kids. He’ll give overwhelming hope and vibrant life to the apathetic. They will joyfully be his children, because he cares so deeply for them. They will be passionate about his work, for he moves so intentionally with them. They will have a fierce faith, because they have seen his miracles. These people will become a rain in the desert, because a time of harvest is coming. This is the most beautiful place I have ever been, because I know God makes beautiful things out of dust.
