After our amazing journey through the sky we returned to our hostel and had an awesome night of worship with the rest of our squad. This morning we had a session about what to do when we find ourselves without an assigned ministry. We talked about pursuing the calling to grow the Kingdom, and then we were split into teams of three and asked to spend some time in the city listening for any instruction the Lord may have for us.
Caleb, Denae and I set across the street to find a spot in the shade to pray together and to ask God what he wanted us to do. After some time in discussion and prayer together we decided to sit in silence. (Remember, that’s often a challenge for me.) We listened for the Spirit to give us instruction, or a word or a vision or something to do for Him.
And what do you know – he did. Denae told us she kept hearing the Spanish word for tree, and the word sick. Caleb said he saw a statue in his head, and I had the image of an elderly woman pop into my head. She was short, wearing a visor and in shorts.
We decided that was enough for us and we began to walk.
A few minutes later, we walked through a clearing of trees. Caleb lifted his hand and pointed out a statue surrounded by picnic tables. We took note, and kept walking, and my heart began to beat really hard. So I turned around. I noticed two older women sitting at a table, and bam. There she was. The woman I’d seen in a blurry image in my head was sitting there wearing her little visor.
I took a breath, turned to the others and said “okay well here we go. I don’t want to let fear get in the way. I think we should go talk to them.”
We talked for about 5 or 6 minutes, explaining who we were and asking them if we could pray for them. They told us they were catholic, but that one of them had two sick brothers. We asked them for names and then asked if we could pray right there with them.
They said no. They had to go.
So we watched as they left. We sat down at the table they were at. I looked up, and the tree we were under was ridden with tree disease. I pointed it out to Caleb and Denae and they both startled, wide eyed and in awe. God had made it clear. We needed to pray.
So we prayed together. We spent more time in silence. I didn’t understand why God let them walk away from us, but I was reminded that He is bigger than me and anything I could ever say. A seed had been planted, we’d told them that Jesus wanted to know them. That was good enough for me, they walked away but they’d heard us. There is still tread left on their tires. They have time to meet Jesus, and I have no doubt that He is stirring their hearts even now.
The three of us began walking again. Up one street and down the next, and Denae said she felt that we were supposed to go to a gas station, or a fuel station or something. The word gasoline was floating in her head. Caleb said he saw a large pole, cemented, potentially a light post. I had nothin.
We kept walking but we weren’t seeing or feeling anything. Caleb suggested we stop to pray again, because we seemed aimless. So we did. Then Caleb said “Lets cross the street.” So we crossed the street. Denae asked me if I smelled gasoline. I did, but it was just for a moment. No cars were running, no fuel stations were nearby, there was no reason for the aroma to be there, yet it was there. Only for a moment, fleeting, like a mist, and then it was gone.
That’s when we saw him.
Luis was sitting under a huge cement light post. He’d been there a while, we’d walked by him from across the street, but we hadn’t noticed him until now. He made eye contact with us, and told us he was hungry.
We knew this was the Lord. We shook his hand, and invited him to join us for lunch, on us. He smiled a big toothless smile, and stood up. This man was thin as a rail, his clothes hung off him, but he had beautiful brown eyes. Eyes full of sadness.
I was shocked to see more in those eyes. I saw my dad.
Not in the sadness, but in the face, in the brownness of the eyes. I saw my own father’s reflection staring at me through this man and I didn’t understand it, but my heart burst with compassion for this man. We walked with him to a bakery and sat down and asked him to order anything he wanted. He got juice and a chicken sandwich as we listened to his story. He had a lot to say. Denae knows a little Spanish and tried her best to translate, but he talked a lot, but from what we gathered he had a 15-month-old and a four-year-old. He was in Medellin looking for a job, and hadn’t eaten in a few days.
We sat with him for about 45 minutes, we also ordered food and the four of us broke bread together. We shared with him the hope that Jesus brings, and he surprised us by quoting scripture to us. His sad eyes were also filled with kindness and silent gratitude. I couldn’t shake the shock of his resemblance to my dad.
After praying with him we parted ways and I shared my feelings, expressing how I didn’t know why the man looked like my father, but Caleb smiled. He said “Maybe that’s just God helping you find compassion for someone who needed it.” It’s funny, because later that day when I told my friend Shakila about the resemblance, she said almost the exact same thing Caleb said – word for word.
God is big. He’s bigger than my human capabilities. He knew that Stacy (our squad mentor) would challenge us to go into the city and listen for the Spirit. He knew Luis was hungry. He knew Luis needed food, and he knew Luis wanted someone to listen to his story. That man loved to talk, and he said so much. I’m not sure what he said, I don’t know much of his story, but I know that we got to share a meal with someone who is desperate to provide for his family, willing to ask for help, and has beautiful eyes.
Thank you, God, for this man. We only got to share a little while with him but he showed me that You see him, and that You see me. I’m thankful for the freedom to approach strangers and tell them that Jesus loves them, and to explain the hope that Jesus brings. Thank you that you speak to us in different ways. Thank you for signs, for visions, for the Bible, for the promise that you will never leave us nor forsake us. Thank you for listening to my plea to hear you more clearly. Thank you for answering. And thank you for Colombian empanadas, they are delicious.
