Freshly baked bread sits invitingly in the glass case, facing out towards the busy street. The aroma of it is almost intoxicating, a welcome break of scent from the usual exhaust and body odor that normally clings to the air. We step inside the shop to sample some of these fresh baked goods, and are delighted to find out how cheap these savory and sweet rolls are. About five pesos for a huge roll, which is probably not even ten cents. Totally worth the delicious experience.
We stand against the counter, leaning in to point and tell the woman working which rolls we would like. The woman begins to pull out the rolls, and all of the sudden, I feel a tug on my arm.
Standing to my side is a small child. Dirt is smeared across his face. His clothes are dirty and tattered. A small pouch is slung across his body. I can not remember if he had shoes or not. In his small hand, a cup.
This boy is probably nine or ten years old. Soon, a few other little children come around the corner to our group as well. There were five in all. Boys and girls a like. One looked like he was only five years old maybe. They all had the same story. Or did they?
I knew what they wanted. Their faces and hands spoke of it. Gesturing to their stomachs and mouths, rubbing their fingers together and holding out their cups. Money. My stomach turned.
This wasn't my first encounter with street kids. We had seen many in Africa. I had seen boys in Kenya come asking for money as they held a bottle of sniffing glue in one hand, and hold out the other to us. We had encountered this before. I had seen children in the tight fist of poverty, addiction and manipulation. So why was this time different? Why was my stomach turning like this?
The world tells us how to treat these children. Even Christian society has rules for how to act towards these children- these beggars. And these rules do make sense. Usually it's don't give the children money because one, more will come and you will run out of things to give them, or they could get angry with you and you have to deal with a little “riot” of sorts almost. You are told that it's just better to ignore them. To go on with your life. To not deal with them. Better to not enable.
For some reason, God stirred my heart that day at the bakery. Face to face with the decision of bringing the kingdom to the least of these, or walking away, just going on with my life as if they did not exist.
But they do exist.
You cannot stamp out their existence. They are everywhere. In the streets of Malaybalay. In the alleys of Manila. In the slums of India. On the corners of intersections in America. The world is full of the least of these. The forgotten ones. The children who are manipulated and manipulate for money.
I wish I could say that that day I brought the kingdom to those children. Instead, with my heart all in turmoil and my emotions rising, I walked away. I didn't know what to do, I didn't know how to react. And so, I walked away.
Thankfully, one of my teammates showed them a small piece of heaven that day and bought them each a small roll. Filling their stomachs for a little while.
But God wrecked me that day through that decision He put before me. What was I supposed to do? I knew the ways in which I had been told to react. Just ignore. Walk away. Basically, pretend that they don't exist. But in that moment, I was faced with the daunting reality that they do indeed exist. They are very much alive, and are calling out to be loved. To be shown hope. To be shown something other than pity or anger. To be shown the Kingdom.
After I came home, I sat for a while processing that encounter. I came to the passage of Matthew 25:31-46. What is Jesus really telling us in these verses? Is He really calling us to radical love for the least of these? Sometimes I feel like in my heart, I read the verses like this:
“For I was a truly worthy poor, hungry person and you gave me something to eat at the appropriate time, I was thirsty and you gave me a drink in an incredibly detailed, carefully planned out way. I was a stranger and you invited me in after you made a few calls, did some research on Google and determined that I was clean enough to come in, just for the night. I needed clothes and you clothed me in a safe, risk free way. I was sick and you looked after me in a careful, contaminant free way. I was in prison and you came to visit me for a few minutes after doing careful research and preparation to make sure it was safe enough.”
No. Through these REAL verses, about serving with no strings attached, I realized that God is calling me to deliberate, immediate response to how He leads me to serve. Because what we do for the least of these, we are doing for Him.
When I see these children on the street, it is His face.
Yes, there is a way to safely reach out to them. But from what I see so far, not many people are reaching out to them. Not a lot is done for these kids caught on the streets. They are the invisible, the forgotten, the passed over.
And Jesus still calls us to reach out to them. He calls, commands me to bring the Kingdom to them. To any of the least of these. How can I deny Christ? How can I turn away from His children?
So while that encounter in the bakery with the street kids of Malaybalay was hard, God stirred up something new in my heart. He has placed these forgotten children on my heart. I don't know what He has in store, but this is what He has put before me, and I have to respond. I am given the choice to respond to the beating of His heart. And I pray that when He stirs my heart again, I have the courage to act, and not walk away.
