Undisguised from reality and in full view of the old filthy brick and mortar lining the dark alleys of Manila live children where life has uncovered no essentials. Poverty is a word that finds no place when sufficiently trying to clarify one’s thoughts depicting the condition of life here. This portrayal of depravity, dignifying impressions of pity, requires a language all it’s own if the depth of reasons to lament is to be adequately illustrated.
Selah.
Selah.
Experience of a Missionary
I found out on the way that the location is moved again. The street ministry to the children of Binondo can be an unpredictable one. As an outreach feeding homeless children right there on the streets they live, moving meal locations is not out of the norm. Usually someone mandates it through complaints that we are “disturbing the peace” or something to that extent. So we walked to the ‘new’ location, yet, another alley toward our group of children waiting – same neighborhood, same children, different sidewalk. It was a little dark but I could make out a few new faces. We feed at night.
Usually there is some kind of light from a dimly lit street post nearby. The first thing I always notice is a sparkle in the eyes of the children as it reflects that light. Sparkle? Yes. As we arrive, these kids recognize someone who cares about them. That glare from the children’s eyes reflects this understanding in their heart. Much gratitude is revealed as it surfaces from beneath the ever present sadness.
Sometimes the heart is tested to endure a sorrow so deep. Such is the case when visiting the children living on the streets of Binondo. The children aren’t just hungry for food, they are starving for affection. Many times during many visits I have found myself engulfed by a group of dirty, grubby, and often very ill children – playful in manner and meaningful in the encounter. They need love. The children were grabbing for any kind of love and affection their friendly antics could grasp. In return? I pushed aside any fear of infection and showed no inclination to retreat, but instead, invited the children to realize that someone does care for them.
On the nights when the full course of the street program can be presented I really think it works well out here on the street, and right where the children live. It actually gives these families some positive direction on what to do with their time five nights a week. If location and time permit, there is often a time of devotion, study in the Word, and then the meal is served.
But any experience with the street children of Binondo always leaves me considering the Jesus who says, “When you help the least and feed the hungriest, you are helping me.”
When facing the reality reflected through the eyes of these children I am left contemplating. Was Jesus really this stricken by such poverty? Was Jesus really this dirty? Was Jesus really this hungry? Was Jesus really pushed away among those no one else wanted? Is Jesus really still all of these things?
I continue to contemplate: If we don’t seek out those in greatest need and get to know Jesus from their perspective – are we really in danger of not knowing Him at all? Are we in danger of not living according to His will? Should we fear someday hearing the words, “Depart from me… For I was hungry and you gave me no food… I was in need and you never helped me, you never came to me” (Matt 25:41+), or “Depart from me, I don’t know you” (Matt 7:23).
I found out on the way that the location is moved again. The street ministry to the children of Binondo can be an unpredictable one. As an outreach feeding homeless children right there on the streets they live, moving meal locations is not out of the norm. Usually someone mandates it through complaints that we are “disturbing the peace” or something to that extent. So we walked to the ‘new’ location, yet, another alley toward our group of children waiting – same neighborhood, same children, different sidewalk. It was a little dark but I could make out a few new faces. We feed at night.
Usually there is some kind of light from a dimly lit street post nearby. The first thing I always notice is a sparkle in the eyes of the children as it reflects that light. Sparkle? Yes. As we arrive, these kids recognize someone who cares about them. That glare from the children’s eyes reflects this understanding in their heart. Much gratitude is revealed as it surfaces from beneath the ever present sadness.
Sometimes the heart is tested to endure a sorrow so deep. Such is the case when visiting the children living on the streets of Binondo. The children aren’t just hungry for food, they are starving for affection. Many times during many visits I have found myself engulfed by a group of dirty, grubby, and often very ill children – playful in manner and meaningful in the encounter. They need love. The children were grabbing for any kind of love and affection their friendly antics could grasp. In return? I pushed aside any fear of infection and showed no inclination to retreat, but instead, invited the children to realize that someone does care for them.
On the nights when the full course of the street program can be presented I really think it works well out here on the street, and right where the children live. It actually gives these families some positive direction on what to do with their time five nights a week. If location and time permit, there is often a time of devotion, study in the Word, and then the meal is served.
But any experience with the street children of Binondo always leaves me considering the Jesus who says, “When you help the least and feed the hungriest, you are helping me.”
When facing the reality reflected through the eyes of these children I am left contemplating. Was Jesus really this stricken by such poverty? Was Jesus really this dirty? Was Jesus really this hungry? Was Jesus really pushed away among those no one else wanted? Is Jesus really still all of these things?
I continue to contemplate: If we don’t seek out those in greatest need and get to know Jesus from their perspective – are we really in danger of not knowing Him at all? Are we in danger of not living according to His will? Should we fear someday hearing the words, “Depart from me… For I was hungry and you gave me no food… I was in need and you never helped me, you never came to me” (Matt 25:41+), or “Depart from me, I don’t know you” (Matt 7:23).
