This month has been full of one time encounters. We worked with such a variety of ministries that we rarely went the same place twice. There was one ministry in particular that never failed to leave me wanting more: Pan y Chocolate calle ministerio (street ministry). I went out with this ministry three different times and while each time we made many different stops, we always visited the same park. It was across the street from the park, against a brick wall where dozens of homeless people would lie down on their boxes for the night. It was in this spot that I had three powerful encounters. All with people I never saw again. The man that really broke my heart though, with him I never learned more than his name…
It was the second time I had been to the park. I scanned quickly to see if my friend from the previous week was there but another man captured my attention. I sat down next to him and as he started to talk, I watched tears fall from his eyes. As was usual for me, I found myself unable to understand him and couldn’t find a Spanish speaker to translate. Another man joined in, also crying. After about ten minutes of this I was able to wave over a friend who speaks Spanish, but I found it wasn’t just my lack of Spanish vocabulary that made them hard to understand because she wasn’t able to understand much either. The first man told us stories about his experience in the U.S. where I believe he was a dishwasher, but from what we could gather what had them so emotional was when they were talking about how people come, hand them food, and leave. They said they are always so sad to see people driving away. I think they were so happy we sat down to talk with them that it brought them to tears. It didn’t matter we couldn’t understand most of what they said, what mattered was that we wanted to listen to them instead of just talk at them.
As we were talking to them, I glanced over at a man sitting a few feet away. He must have been in his twenties, and didn’t look like he had been on the streets as long as most. His eyes were clear and bright, and I knew immediately I needed to go over to him. I didn’t want to leave the men I was talking to, but the longer I looked at the young man, the more I knew it wasn’t a choice. I just felt such a pull towards him I couldn’t explain except that the Lord wanted me to speak to him. As I was wrapping up my conversation I was told it was time to leave. But I couldn’t go without talking to him so I went over anyway and introduced myself. As he told me his name and shook my hand he saw everyone heading towards the truck. He started digging in his pockets and I waited wondering what he was looking for, hoping whatever he pulled out would explain why the Lord put him so heavily on my heart. I wasn’t sure how to react when he pulled out a crumpled tract. My first thought was that someone had just given it to him and he didn’t want it, but then I looked at it and realized it wasn’t from our church. Then I wondered if he wanted someone to lead him in the prayer, but he kept gesturing for me to take it. I finally realized he just wanted to give me something and it was all he had to give.
As we drove away my heart broke and I still don’t know why. Even in that night I had met others who seemed more desperate, who I had spoken to for longer, but it was his face I could not forget. I have never wept for a person the way I did him, without even knowing why I was crying. The Lord broke my heart for him without ever hearing his story and without knowing anything more than his name.
When we went back out to the streets a few days later I prayed and prayed I would see him again, desperately hoping to speak with him more. But, as much as I looked, he was nowhere to be found. Honestly, not many people were in their usual places, and we actually had trouble finding enough homeless people to distribute the bread and hot chocolate to. But, that night the Lord spoke to me a lot about our month in El Salvador. He reminded me of both his power and grace, that even when I don’t know the purpose in what he is doing, to trust he is working through us. That when all we have is a couple minutes with someone, that is enough time for him to move in someone’s life. That if I was so impacted by these chance encounters, maybe the people I met were too.
Plus, that night others DID get to reunite with people from previous weeks. Some of my teammates saw a man they had prayed with in a completely different park, but this time he was sober and said he has been clean since they last saw him. Others had prayed for a blind man to be healed the previous week (who by the time they left could SEE them praying for him) They saw him again and he recognized their faces! I don’t know why I never had that opportunity, but I do know the Lord is so good. He was so gracious to allow most of my teammates another encounter with these men, but for me I just need to trust him and what he is doing without that opportunity.
