I’m currently sitting on the rooftop of Casa Mateo, the hotel owned by our contacts here; Lynn and Glenn.
And looking around, I’m reminded of the beauty that’s around me.
Sometimes it’s easy to forget the beauty here in Jinotepe.
It’s a broken place.
The sidewalks are a hazard – broken tiles and big cracks in the cement and unmarked
holes three feet deep. The fences are topped with broken glass bottles, razor
wire, or barbed wire. The old, homeless, or unwanted sit on the side of the
road and sleep there or in the central park – a dangerous and unfriendly place.
Graffiti is anywhere you look; sidewalks, benches, walls, buildings, cars,
light poles.
Still, I am convinced: Jinotepe is beautiful.
It’s in the smiling faces. In
the conversations that I get to take part in with my very broken spanish. It’s
in the eyes of the people we talk with, pray with, eat with. It’s in the hugs
and the voices of the kids calling out my name. It’s in their tiny hands that
tightly hold mine. Yes, I am in a beautiful place.
But Jinotepe is plagued with gangs. That’s been my understanding.
And one saturday, I played futbol with a few gang members.
These young men sit
around all day not doing much (or maybe they do and just hide it VERY well),
and then get into trouble during the night. It’s probably one of the main
reasons why the town closes up when it gets dark.
It was the saturday before last; we’d planned a kid’s day and had invited
these young men in the area to come to the compound to play futbol. They came
and initially ignored us, organized a game real fast and started playing. I sat
on the sidelines, watching, and quickly accepted that I would NOT be playing
futbol with them. It was shocking how good they were.
They’re really good.
I’d been pretty excited to play a game with them – the guys in Guatemala had really
helped me and I thought I’d gotten a little better – up until I watched these Nicaraguans. After about 10 minutes, I was convinced that building friendships with
the guys on the field was NOT what God was calling me to this month.
I had thought God was directing me to the young men involved in gangs here
– but seeing them in probably the safest environment I’d be able to interact
with them and STILL being intimidated out of my mind? I was scared.
Terrified, actually.
So I switched gears and hung out with the little kids. I mean, why not? I
felt safe with them.
At some point, everyone was rounded up for some kid activities inside the
main building. The guys put their game on hold and came inside – but sat in the
back corner. They were welcome to participate in the games, but realistically,
I didn’t expect them to. After a few games, they started looking extremely
bored and started leaving.
It bothered me. The fact that they’d come to a christian event, and sat
through a sermon and were even giving this a chance was a miracle. I felt like
it was really important that they stay. So I begged and pleaded with one of the
guys to at least just play ONE game with us. His name is Lester. I can’t
imagine how embarassing it must’ve been for him, but he respectfully joined in
eventually. After the game, I knew he was going to leave. And it was with that
realization that God made me do something I never thought I could’ve done: I
asked Lester if he’d play a game of futbol, with me, outside.
The look on his face was priceless. He tried not to laugh as he asked me to
clarify what I’d just said – that I wanted to play futbol with him and his
friends. My mouth said yes, but everything in me was screaming no. No, no, no,
no. Stupid girl. What are you doing? But I couldn’t back out now. So I grabbed
Cara and followed Lester and the rest of the guys outside. They all had smirks
on their faces, made some unpleasant comments, and laughed, but split up Cara
and I on to two teams and put the ball in play.
And so it began.
For the first time in my life, I felt competitive. I wanted to knock those
smirks right off their faces! Cara and I got some good kicks in, some good
passes. I think after those we gained a little more respect from them, but at
some point they stopped passing to us. Around that time, a little girl needed
me to clean a cut on her foot, so I took that as my God-given exit.
I doubted the guys would even notice.
I went and cleaned and bandaged a little girl’s foot, and when I was
finishing up, about 50 yards away, the futbol game ended.
I assumed the guys would just leave without wanting to say goodbye. I’d
felt like our attempt to reach out to them had failed. So when they all walked
over to Cara and I, shook our hands, and said goodbye as if we were friends, I
was shocked. Speechless.
These guys live in what I’d call the ghetto of Jinotepe. They grow up in
rough neighborhoods, in pretty bad living conditions. It’s survival they fight
for. I don’t know the details of what they’ve seen in their lives…I don’t know
the details of what they’ve done. For all I know, they’ve killed. They’ve
stolen. They’ve hurt innocent people. Maybe that’s where my fear came from.
But with every handshake, friendly smile, and “adios” we got, I felt my fear
melting away. I felt conviction in my heart as God showed me, “See, there is
beauty here too, even in them. I love them,” and felt a burden for them on my
heart as He broke me for them. They are simply people. Like you and I. Born in
an unfriendly place. They search for power strength, and respect, but above all
– they cling to survival. They need love…everyone does, whether they admit it or
not.
Maybe their biggest defense is to look intimidating to keep people away. To
maintain a rep for demonstrating their strength over people, in order to keep
everyone at a safe distance. To keep their walls up. To stay…safe.
Realistically, that’s something I’m guilty of too. It’s scary letting
people see my heart sometimes.
I see some of the guys on the streets every so often. Sometimes it’s after
dark, when it’s more dangerous to be out on the streets. And I’m more on guard
when it’s dark, more careful and more aware. But as we recognize each other we
smile and say hello – which tells me that the game wasn’t a complete fail.
Before that unexpected game on Saturday, I would’ve kept my eyes on the ground
and walked right past them, because that’s safe. But I made some friends – or,
at least have started to make friends, with some gang members in Nicaragua. And
I’m cautious, yes, and definitely use the common sense I’ve been given. I’m taking
it all one step at a time.
I don’t know why they’re on my heart so heavily. I don’t. It makes no
sense…I’m just a somewhat-normal, church-going, bible-believing, North
American 20 year old girl – and some Nicaraguan gang members are on my heart?
I should be terrified.
But I’m not…not anymore.
I am asking you to NOT be terrified with me.
If God is for us, then who can stand against us? If we are truly in God’s
hands, NO ONE can take us from Him. Nothing can separate us from the love of
God.
I believe they will someday turn to Him. And become the revival that we’re
praying for.
It’s ok if it starts with a smile, or a handshake, or a simple word.
We’re building them a futbol field. They don’t know it yet, but they will
either tonight or tomorrow – next time I see one of them, I’ll invite them to
come work with us. There’s a LOT of work we have to do. We need their help, and
it’s going to be their field someday – we want them to have ownership and pride
in it.
Above all, we ache for their hearts.
Please pray for them with us. It’s the cry of my heart that they turn to
God. That they see and believe that God loves them, regardless of where they’ve
been or what they’be done.
Fight with me.
To be continued…
