At the age of 18 I was itching for an adventure that would mark the rest of my life. I had just graduated from High School 6 months earlier and was indisposed to the thought of leading a “normal” life that so many in the world have dreamed of. I did not have the desire to continue my education at an University not so much because I hated school but deep down inside I knew I would not turn out to be the person I am today. To me school represented everything my flesh desired and the direct antipodean to what my soul was craving for. To me the American dreams seemed a bit like the American nightmare. Now, I was not horrible “spiritual” when I was 18 but I had enough knowledge to know that if I headed down that slippery path the likely hood of making back up the hill would be slim to none.
As I stepped onto that British Airways flight en route to Mozambique I knew I was embarking on a journey that would set the course for the rest of my life. What direction it would take me I did not know nor did I care. I remember the thoughts running through my mind on that cloudy, rainy day as we sat on the runway in Chicago waiting to take off. “What in the world am I doing? My life will never be the same after this. This is the stupidest thing I have ever done. I want to get off the plane. Why would my parents allow me to do this? What kind of parents are they? I have never been away from home for longer then two weeks!” My heart was racing while that plane rumbled down the runway and finally into the sky. As we flew over Chicago I took a deep breath, my heart calmed down, and I knew there was no turning back.
40 hours later our plane landed in the small airport in Maputo Mozambique. The air was thick as I stepped off that plane that sunny afternoon. The humidity was unbearable but I did not care. I had dreamed about this day for years and it finally had arrived. As I walked that runway to the terminal I could not hold back the tears. I remember that day like it was yesterday. I was young, immature and scared but God had seen my heart and given me what I had desired.
As I waited for my luggage I knew this would be a time I would not forget. I sensed the events that would happen that following year would drastically mark and change my life in ways I could not imagine. To me that year was a glimpse into my future, a window into what the Lord has for me in the years to come. That year was an invitation to know Him in ways I had never known Him before and an opportunity to understand His heart.
Almost 7 years later I still feel the effects of that seasons in my life. The images, sounds and smells have been stamped upon my inner man forever. I will never forget the places I went and the people I met in that season. They hold a special place in my heart and as I sit here today in the comfort of the House of Prayer I am starting to see that their stories have not been forgotten and their words still linger in my mind.
While there I had the opportunity to become friends with a group of street children. I do not remember all their names but they hold a special place in my heart and will never be forgotten. I pray for them daily and one day hope to see them again either on this side of eternity or the next. This group of kids had lives I never dreamed were possible. They went through things I probably will never experience in my heart. At the age of 18 the words they said to me pierced my heart and left me speechless.
Through the year they would shared their stories and their pain with me. Each one had a different tale to tell but each one was broken and hurting on the inside. Their innocence had been stolen at a young age and their were fighting to make it each and every day. They did not know what the next day would hold for them. They constantly asked me questions that I could not answer. Where would their breakfast, lunch and dinner come from? Where would we sleep tonight? Will I get beat up today? Will I get raped this evening while I sleep? Why did my mom and dad leave me? At the age of 18 the best I could do was share in their tears and love on them the best I knew how. I would buy them cokes and cookies in hopes that I could somehow make them forget for a moment and temporarily heal stop their pain.
I like to believe my presence with them that year made a difference in their lives because just a moment with them forever changed mine. Like I said earlier their faces are forever engraved upon my heart. I left that year a changed and marked man. I had seen and heard too much to ever be the same again.
Two years later I went back for a visit to Mozambique in hopes to find some of those same kids again. I had prayed for them and my hope was that I would find them in a better position then when I had left. I had just finished Bible school and was ready to make an impact for that month I was there. I had come back to Mozambique more mature and ready to preach the gospel to that country like no one ever had! In the middle of my trip back we rode down the streets of Maputo on our way to get dinner. It was a night like any other in Africa, hot, humid but oh so beautiful (nothing can compare with the beauty of Africa). Little did I know I was about to have a conversation that would forever change my life.
As we pulled up to the one of my favorite African restaurants I heard a group of Children calling my name. I turned and looked and their they were. The same faces that I had known two years before had remembered me and were running to meet me. Somehow they had heard that I was coming back to Mozambique for a visit and could not wait to see me. We hugged, laughed and at together that night. As we were finishing I wanted to talk to them about Jesus. You see I felt as though I had the answer’s that they were looking for. I began to tell them about Jesus and how much he loves them and cares for them. On and on I went. When I was done they looked at me and smiled. No reaction but a smile. I felt a bit discouraged but just brushed it aside to a lack of understanding.
It was at this moment that I heard the words that left me speechless and sent me reeling for months. As we walked down the street that night one of the boys turned to me and said, “I don’t understand something Brent. You have been gone for two years and in two years nothing has changed. I still do not know where I am going to eat tomorrow. I still do not know where I am going to sleep tonight. I get raped two three times a week. I have had no family for as long as I can remember. If I were to die tonight no one would know and no one would care. You speak of Jesus but what could has Jesus done for me? I am still in the same situation. You tell me Jesus loves me but what does that do for me now? You tell me Jesus came to save me but why can He not save me from this situation now? Why does God let this happen to me?”
Those words pierced my heart like an arrow. I was left speechless and completely wrecked. In that moment the traditional response of a Western Christian “Jesus loves you and it is going to be all-right” would not cut it. He needed something more. He needed hope and I had not answer to give him. How do you answer the brokenness of a child who has been stripped of everything? How do you answer the tears of a child forgotten by man and in his eyes forgotten by God. In that moment he needed hope and I did not know what hope to give him. His comments at that moment rocked my life, my faith and my plans. He needed answers and that answer that he needed I did not have. Not only did I not have but I believe that Western Christianity as a whole does not have the answer to give not only this child but the millions of children suffering across the world in the same or worse situation. A piece of bread and a cup of water will not answer the ache of this child’s heart. The words “Jesus loves you, forgives you and wants you to be His” in that moment do not suffice. A new church planting movement, a social justice program or new idea in that moment and in every moment fails to give an answer to what the hurt and dying of the world are asking for. What the world needs is hope, not some fuzzy pathetic hope that the majority of Christianity preaches today, but true Hope. And that kind of Hope I was not prepared to give.
Five years later those comments still haunt my life. I see his face on a daily basis, the tears running down his eyes as he bares all and reveals he truly has nothing to live for. I have wrestled with those comments over and over again wondering what kind of message do you give to the hurting of the world.
I believe you give them the gospel, the true, unadulterated gospel.
Part two later… I got to go workout!
