I know that this goes against conventional blogging -post-posting but I wanted to share thoughts and memories from my journal that are still fresh on my mind today.
The boys home. In the community of Woodstock.
"I took you from the ends of the earth.. from the farthest corners,.. chosen and not rejected. So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed,... I will strengthen you, help you, and not let you go." Isaiah 41:8-9
Before we left prayed about what God wanted to share at the Boys home on Pine Street. It was to be 5 of us, and 5 others were going to another home. These boys, from what we knew, were off the street. Some of us had a first assumption that they were put there as a punishment because they broke the law or were illegal immigrants of a sort. How wrong we were. As we prayed though we asked God to help us get our hearts right and to clear anything out of our path that would prevent these guys from healing and growing through our time with them. The scripture Isaiah 41:8-9 was shared. It hit me square between the eyes in a very personal way.
What followed was a vividly passionate and strangely surreal time with these boys who’s age ranged from 9-18. My friend, who’s heart was now healed and strengthened, spoke openly and transparently in front of these guys about her past, about how God has and is continuing to heal her fully. No more lies, no more façade, no fear of rejection. They seemed unusually soft and receptive. We then divided into groups of 3 to 4 including one of us in each group.
In my group there was young Cape Townian man and guy from Zimbabwe who quickly shared that he could relate to her in many different ways. Tears came to his eyes as he shared that he was a refugee of sorts. He never knew his father, and his mother passed away just a couple years ago. Emotion flowed comfortably out of him as he shared the rigid words of guilt he felt for leaving his younger brother behind to come to South Africa. This teenage man carried this massive pile guilt and shame that he had the opportunity to go to school. Im talking high school! He was ashamed that he had food to eat, and a roof over his head. As we finished talking and I prayed for him the tention on his face appeared to change.
The next two times I saw him he seemed very encouraged and light hearted as he spoke with me about his future plans.
Our prayers been effective in Cape Town.
I want to cry. August 20 2009
We have seen God do an amazing amount through our team as we have worked along side the churches we have been doing ministry with. It has been hard at times. I have struggled emotionally but it has been a time that I have been weakest and I have seen God pick it all up off my shoulders and lay it all on His.
As a predominantly white team, with predominantly foreign accents at least one of our team will get approached almost daily for money. Children run up to us barefoot on the glass spattered streets “rand, rand?” they mutter quickly. (Rand is the currency here.) Women in the city have approached me more than once, with a feeding infant slung to their chest they spout off frantically “I need money for my children, we sleep on the streets, and have no food.”
One boy in the city obviously tripping on ’glue’ with his eyes rolled up into his head, drool coming from his mouth, and feet stumbling to keep his balance “Don’t give me money, don’t give me money, just give me food.” His name was Michael. His face was empty and his body a wrangled skeleton. Michael was someone’s little boy, and if he had never been he needed to be. I will never forget the aerosol and gas smell to his clothes and incredibly shallow, close-to-death look to his expression. About 18 or so years old, helplessly addicted and wandering the dangerously dark streets alone,.. I wanted to take him in before he passed out again in what I imagined was a garbage filled ally somewhere.
As am finding myself more and more numb; I am therefore all the more calling out to God to soften my heart. Who said doing missions is easy? The gap between extreme poverty and extreme wealth is so huge that it turns my heart inside out to try to explain. One has to dive deep into the history of Cape Town to understand the hopelessness and helplessness that attempts to drive this curse deep into the heart of the next generation.
This past Sunday I spoke at a church many of the words that I share daily with people we meet on the street. People see our new clothes and hear our accents as clear as the Hollywood screen and often their body language reads in envy and presumption. Whether I am understanding them correctly or not; the God of South Africa is the same God of the United States, Indonesia, Germany, Brazil, and Canada. Whether I understand their pain and shame completely or not; God does. The phase I use a lot is “hopelessness is hopelessness, no matter where your from, what your back round, or skin color.”
“If a person is willing to give up, or take their life, no matter what the reason - something or someone has lied to them, and that lie is not from God.”
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