Truthfully, the thought of seeing my parents was kinda weird.
After 6 months without them, it just became my normal. Going where I wanted with who I wanted when I wanted to go and doing what I wanted to do. It’s been nice having nothing but freedom, exploring some of the coolest places in the world.
I think maybe I’ve almost mastered the independence thing in some aspects- there are some I still need my parents for. I will admit that.
Regardless, it was quite the experience having both of my parents side by side with me in the always bloody hot Granada, Nicaragua. During this week we were able to hang and do ministry and share stories of growth, challenge, and experience. But the coolest thing, was having our parents side by side with us during ministry.
We took to a farm land with machetes and rakes, made a healthy lunch for children in a poverty stricken area and perhaps the most awesome thing was prayer walking through a struggling and broken community.
For those of you who don’t know, prayer walking simply looks like this: walking through a community (broken or not) and listening. Seeing what God places on your heart, and seeing who He places in your path to strike up a conversation with and then simply chatting with them and praying for them.
Prayer walking a lot of the time absolutely blows my mind. Hearing peoples stories, struggles, and cries for help and prayer gets to you. It makes you stop and question everything about your life and put yourself in their shoes.
And a lot of the time, it hurts. It hurts to know how these people are feeling. It hurts to know that they see no end to their struggling. It hurts to know they come from broken families, and abuse, and drugs and alcohol and pure poverty. It hurts to know that they believe that they believe that their life is an unrelenting and vicious cycle that they can’t escape. It hurts to know that they place all their hope, and reason for living in something other than Jesus. It hurts even worse to know that a lot of them don’t know Jesus, and don’t understand His undying love for them.
While prayer walking through a community with my parents this past week, we came across a group of guys who were relatively in my age group. These boys were 19, 20, 21, 22, 23 years old.
These guys were in such vital years of their life. Years of their life that should be spent shaping their future through things like education, and relationships. These are pivotal years in anyones life- years that hold so much molding, and self discovery.
Yet the 5 of them sat on the side of the road with alcohol and drugs in hand, completely drunk and getting a temproary high to feel something. At only roughly 10 in the morning, these guys began their typical day of filling themselves with whatever they could to take the pain they faced day in and day out, away.
I didn’t get the chance to learn each of these guys stories. I don’t know their individual walks of life and what they’ve been through and what they’ve experienced but granted where we were, and what most backgrounds were of people who lived here, it wasn’t hard to figure out that they themselves have been hurt. They’ve probably seen people they love take paths of self destruction, and that was all they have ever known.
The coping skills they learned were terribly disfigured. But how were they to know? Thats what they had been taught year after year of their precious lives.
Another thing that just hurts me to see.
In this community, drugs and alcohol are a common thing. Not just by young adults, but literally by children as young as 8 years old. Crack is realtively cheap, thus making it easily acceptable.
What were you doing at 8 years old? Most of us are fortunate to say those years were spent playing dolls with friends, or playing on swing sets outside with other kids are age.
Not looking to get our next high. Not looking to find a few drops of alcohol.
Looking at this group of guys, my heart broke.
These guys were my age, yet we lived absolutely worlds apart. We’re both young adults, treasured sons and daughters of the same Father, but yet on completely different paths of life. We’ve walked completely different stories. We’ve seen completely different things.
I was almost at a loss of words.
What on earth was I supposed to share with these guys? I hadn’t seen half of what they had seen. I haven’t been through half of what they had been through. Lord willing, I won’t ever experience the literal tragedies they faced day in and day out. My testimony? Well thats just a drop in the bucket compared to their every day life.
Praying to God to give me the words to say to this group, this is what came out:
“Jesus wept.” – John 11:35
The shortest verse in the bible.
Just, Jesus wept.
Jesus wept.
The Lord of the universe, the King of all Kings, the most High God wept.
The most perfect and timeless King wept.
This verse says none other than we serve and are loved by a completely compassionate God who feels our pain.
I don’t know what these guys knew about Jesus. I didn’t even know if they heard His name before, but all I wanted them to know and understand was that man in the sky up there FEELS our pain. He knows the trials and heart breaks we face and He wants to walk those with you. He doesn’t want you to have to do it alone. I assured them that He knows their name, just as much as He knows my name. He knows the plan He has for them, and it’s just as good as the plan He has for me.
The trials they face don’t seem fair. They’re trials that I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy. And while I don’t know why God has that plan and path for them, He does. The Father is control of all things new, and it is never too late to look to Him and plead for help and plead for His mercy. If theres one thing I know, it’s that God is an artist. The broken pieces He can mold together and make a masterpiece so beautiful.
In Christ, your mistakes can be molded into miracles. Every bad thing in your life, every good thing in your life, every set back and triumph God uses for something so good.
In those following moments as others came forward sharing their hearts, the atmosphere changed. The 5 guys that once sat on the curb messing around with one another, fell silent. The pain and sadness that they tried so hard to mask by things of this world- emerged from their eyes. While I don’t know how much their life was impacted, I do know that a seed was planted. I know that one day, they will stop trying to fill their sadness with temporary numbs and highs, and walk freely in the life Christ has for them. It may not be this week, or next month or even next year but without a doubt God’s timing is so much better beyond belief.
At the end one of the guys I approached me and grabbed my wrist. On my left outside forearm, I have “more than conquerors” tattooed, stemming from Romans 8 where it says:
“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble and hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written: ‘For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.’ No, in all these things we are MORE THAN CONQUERORS through Him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all of creation, will be able to separate us from the love that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
He asked me what it meant, and so I grabbed the Spanish bible and let him read the verse. He smiled and shook his head saying “Yes” and asked for a pen. I handed him a pen and he then held his forearm out and copied the phrase word for word, (in English and in cursive) onto himself.
More than Conquerors.
We are more than conquerors through Him who loved us.
Hopefully, if only himself will believe.
