The Experience Of A Missionary Series
Humility: Having a feeling of insignificance, low in importance – (dictionary.com)
I was visiting one of the locations in Baseco (Philippines) where we feed children. Miral is a coastal slum and often hit the hardest when a typhoon rolls in. More recently, heavy torrential rains have been leaving their mark. This community remains destroyed and survival is pieced together daily. I suspect no real effort goes towards making permanent repairs since the next severe storm will rip everything apart again. Since flooding occurs frequently, there is always some large pocket of stagnant water in and around the shanty house clusters where many of the children we feed live.
During this visit I was heading into a cluster of homes behind the feeding site. I was on foot and thanking Jesus for the waterproof Crocs (boots) I was wearing, compliments of a donation. The water I would walk through was really nasty and foul smelling. It was murky with decomposing trash, fish, and no doubt infested with bacteria that could cause a serious illness. But, I was also a little angry because the thick clunky laces kept untying. The day was also getting very hot and I wasn’t happy about that either.
Finally, when I looked up, I saw this sad looking dirty young girl who had just walked through the same water I was disgusted with. She lived here. The dress she wore was torn and filthy. She had no shoes.
Humbled? Yes I was, and shamefully so. Insignificant? Yes I am, especially in light of the great need I saw before me. What became more important to me? Those who are really suffering.
What Lies Beyond
Although the Lord had already spoken to me in a most profound way in regards to the insightful encounter just mentioned, I was to gain yet more revelation into His heart as my journey for the day continued into the disorder of life lived here in Baseco. God was about to speak more completely to my heart.
I know this community well and am recognized now as “friendly” and not as an “intruder”, at least on the path traveled to and from the feeding location. This is a place most foreigners should not venture, and especially not alone. It is dangerous and could turn out nasty or go terribly wrong in many ways. Many people have been murdered in the last several weeks.
I often don’t travel deep into a surrounding community like this because of the unexpected danger but I felt a familiar peace on this day, one I have felt before when the Lord whispers, “You’ll be okay. Go see what my heart cries for.”
As I walked through the maze of shanties I could describe the obvious conditions that would make this place to be one of the most poverty stricken areas that we serve. What left the more lasting impression was the feeling of desolation that came over me. There were people, small groups of children, moms and grand moms. I was greeted in a friendly manner; a slight smile or a wave used as way of introduction. But this part of Baseco felt like a very lonely place. A place without purpose. A place only to survive.
As I wandered closely to each home and allowed the character of the environment to speak to me, I developed an overwhelming sense that most have settled into their desolate life and aren’t expecting much else. There is no sense of aspiration – in the present or in the future, only the notion to make the next moment survivable. Coming to terms with their daily struggles has created a nonchalant attitude, one without cause or specific intent. A life without purpose.
The more I see of this community from the inside the more I understand the reason why there is no hope. This is a hard place – hard to visit, hard to live in, and hard to imagine getting out. Life is just broken here. There aren’t many outsiders who really care; the world doesn’t know they exist.
What is good? What do they consider of virtue? The good these families in Baseco look for is in the moment to moment of their life. A conversation with a nearby relative or someone in close proximity brings with it a peaceful exchange, with not much expected past the company of a friend. A crying child is tended to without much anxiety and carefully picked up by a mom who understands her child may be all she will ever experience of true love. A grandmother lends a hand in some daily chore, considering the time well spent, as the end result has a purpose in daily survival and worthiness. Others just sit and stare blankly – at anything or anyone – no expression characterized.
“The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18).
Where is the purpose in a future for the residents of this tucked away little niche of Baseco? It will be made clear as we tenderly evangelize the message of Jesus and allow the love of Christ to heal the pain of broken hearts and re-purpose the lives of families crushed by insignificance.
As they discover the Jesus who is so near to their struggles they will understand that the purpose of life is found in the loving communion with a Savior. A friend, in Jesus, who is always near and leading the way to life more meaningful than their situations.
It remains to be seen. But if we remain determined to reach the lost we will be shown the heart of God as it shines through these lives in renewal, bringing full glory to the Father above – bringing a fuller purpose to a community that needs life changing love – a community that needs each other.
Signed: From this Missionary - on a journey with Christ
Oh yeah, and the children we feed every day? Some of them live nearby in the community this little venture took place, and others live across the way. Most of the children we feed are very young. Jesus is being witnessed to them in offering and adoration. With every tiny mouth we feed our prayer is that the Spirit of Jesus lights the path for each child heading home and shines in the face of family and friends when they arrive.
