Day 2ish

It’s Nicaraguan tradition for the mission teams to have porch time and reflect upon the day’s events. First order of business is "Remember The Time." In the first RTT we reminisced about when Matt said S**T in front of the kids and Rueben, a quick whipped young feller announced: “Mal palabras del oso”…(bad words from the bear). After the awkward moments are accurately highlighted, we switch gears to "I saw Jesus in, or through he/she this or that." The most memorable was when Levi shared that he felt God’s love through the children at the orphanage. These kids loved us so quickly, as if they’d known us their whole lives, and without trepidation; even though we’d leave them just as quickly as we arrived. They are thirsty for our love, starving for our attention, yearning for our touch. Levi said this has to be the way God feels about each on of his children, plus infinity and beyond.

We met a similar group of children the next day, the only difference was that these kids live in the dump (La Chureca)—a large piece of land overrun with an entire city’s toxic waste, instead of a beautiful orphanage on a farm. Rancid trash so stinky, any American port a potty becomes instantly luxurious. To make a living, both children and their parents spend their days under the blistering sun, rummaging through garbage in search for undiscovered plastic that can be sold for recycling. We visited this dump having no idea what to expect, our tour led by Pastor Ramon and another man whose humble abode resides along the dump’s solid lake. They took us to the dump’s highest look out point, making visible the acres and acres of waste that makes up their neighborhood. They weren’t ashamed, in fact, Jose was proud of his home, proud that he made just enough money to put food on the table. We saw Jesus at the dump, and you’re the God of this City too…

It’s so easy to feel God’s presence when staring out into the picture perfect sunset rising behind the Rocky Mountains, or seeing every Sunday the beautiful young twenties crowd that makes up our churches. What about when things aren’t so pretty? How easily do we all turn a blind eye to the ugliness that infects our city’s darkest allies, and what are we doing about it? Jesus is visible even in a dump, in a place where the conditions couldn’t possibly be worse and the people still, by God’s unfathomable grace, are hopeful. There is a revolution happening here; our brothers and sisters in Christ feeding once empty tummies, drawing near the poorest of poor, preaching the Good News of Christ—the Christ who loves them bare, naked, broke and trashed.