Day 6: Kyrie Eleison (a.k.a. this post is meant to poke you in the feels) - March 12


You can definitely tell we’re near the end of the trip! Everyone’s feeling it, friends. But it’s also beyond the normal physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually drained that I’ve come to expect in teams. We’re really getting hit hard on a lot of fronts right now. Everything from old injuries to insecurities to conflict to all the corona virus stuff happening at home – please be praying for us!

Ok, so today we got breakfast and then walked to the campus (no, you haven’t accidentally ended up on the campus side blog). We met Lagos, Ricky, and Jovany there and we all rode a bus to San José together. Because the government is not letting big events happen in public places, we shifted plans and decided to set up in the church building. Jovany and Don Julio then went to invite people they know to come and be a part of what we were doing.

“What were you doing?”

I’m glad you asked. The church here wants to connect to the street community. They want to love and disciple and grow those trapped in cycles of addiction and poverty to be free. A part of the trap of poverty is hopelessness. (If you’ve never read the book When Helping Hurts, go read that. Like, really. Read it.) As a small step towards breaking the power of hopelessness, and as a way to honor and instill a sense of dignity and purpose with our new friends, and as a way to allow us to segue into the gospel in conversation, the church has created an Instagram Account, “Vivo en Chepe.” They’re kind of going for a “Humans of New York” vibe (with less secular humanism), if you know what that project was. The goal is to find and share stories of hope in spite of hard situations; kind of a “these people chose hope and to see the light in the darkness, you can too!” kinda thing. So the plan was for us to interview these folks and get their stories so they can be posted online to stir up hope and honor their stories. And any conversation about hope is a super easy transition to a conversation about the gospel.

I had some doubts at first: Is this cheesy? Is this going to send the message that the church doesn’t care about your sadness, they just want you to put a happy face on? Are we even going to be able to pull this off? But here’s the thing, if being cheesy gives someone else the opportunity to hear the gospel, then get over your pride and be cheesy. It’s not about how people see us, it’s about them having the change to see Jesus. And even if we can’t pull this off, we’re going to try and people will be loved. Also there’s tactful ways to steer towards hope that don’t discredit pain. These people don’t need pity, they need hope. And it wasn’t cheesy by the way, it was a really good idea.

So we started setting up shop and, before we finished, Don Julio arrived with many friends in tow. We dove in immediately in something of a disorganized manner, but actually pretty darn good. We started hearing story after story after story. Almost all of my conversations were in Spanish. Some of them I understood, some of them I got the very bare minimum of a semblance of a story. All of them were powerful stories, some of the things that were said or that happened were really sad or hard. Once the stories get posted, you can find more of them in-depth on Instagram at Vivo en Chepe.” Here’s a sample:

“Yes, things are really hard, but I get by because of the support I get from my brothers in the street with me – we are a family.”

“My faith is what carries me. I know God loves me and is testing me to make my faith stronger. Jesus died for my sins, and now he’s making me stronger in him.”

“God has a special relationship with us and we understand him in a special way.”

“People ignore you when they walk by because they would feel better if you did not exist.”

“The church just cares about how you look on the outside, God cares about what you have on the inside.”

“I am happy for you that you are here, but you are going to go home to your good lives and nothing will change for us here.”

“A thing that makes me smile in the middle of all the hard things is when people like you guys do a small thing that shows you see me.”

“I have hope because I am fighting for being with my family someday; when I get money, I send it to them in Nicaragua so they can survive.”

“My grandchildren in the U.S. ask me when I will come see them. I can’t tell them I got deported and will never see them again, so I tell them I am on an important mission here.”

“I have hope for small steps at a time. Get any job. Get off the streets. Get a better job.”

“I hope to become financially stable so that my wife will let my kids take my last name.”

God have mercy on us all. Hearing people saying these things, as I’m looking in their eyes, and seeing the depths of their hurt, left me questioning God again. “Where are you in all this, Jesus? I thought you were supposed to understand our pain, how do you not do something?” Then the conviction: we are Christ’s ambassadors in this earth. He has committed ministry to us (2 Cor 5). God tells Abraham that he will be blessed, so that he could be a blessing to the nations and families around him. God hasn’t blessed us with wealth because he loves us more. We have different roles. If those living in material poverty don’t have enough, is it God’s fault? Or is it because we stopped passing the food down the line and kept it for ourselves. God hands the plate to one child, to take a bite and pass it to the next, not to keep the plate and let our brother starve. How am I living my life? Why do I treat the things I own as if they were actually mine to keep (1 Cor 7:29-31)? God forgive me. Kyrie eleison.

Um, yea. So we listened and talked and gave away coffee and cake and Chinese food. We took the bus back to the hotel and we had some dinner and time to bond with our campus counterparts, who were feeling rough after they found out about some choices A&M is making regarding the covid19.

We had a pretty powerful worship night. As I was crying out to God, I felt like I heard him say “My children.” Nothing more, just that. It was so tender and strong though. I don’t know how everything will be ok, but I know it will. Marana tha. Come Lord Jesus. Come soon.


Hm, does that feel heavy, but hopeful? That's my desire. Anyway, here's a nice picture:


It's the Samuelito Bakery!

Comments