Garment of Praise

I can't believe it is time to leave. This week has been so emotionally riveting for all of us. In the midst though it has been amazing how God works. Obviously the crushing pain I felt for the people had to subside in order to function, I had to be able to breathe and refocus... This is what God knew... I was reading and listening to music, and something flooded over me... the garment of praise in my heaviness.. incredible. How can this happen? How can I be at peace? I have seen things that will forever be etched in my mind, I have been broken for a people that I had never met, I had seen depravity defined only by satan himself I had looked into the eyes of desperation that convulsed my soul new scars..... and then again I realize the call, Be a voice for the voiceless, take care of the oppressed, seek justice...

Restore innocence to the broken...

Here I am Lord, send me

In Him,
Kris

Do they Know?

i step into this church almost in a surreal state. we walk up flights of winding stairs with wooden banisters, the chandeliers are massivce and beautiful. i hear the excited chatter mounting..then we step to the final platform to 75 to 100 college kids. all dressed to the max. they all looked as if they could have been on any cover of any fashion magazine...all hanging out and catching up with their friends. i imagine very much like we do at home. the church you can see right off is different then others here. new and cutting edge, much like the trendy churches in america. instantly i am in a parrallel world. we enter the area of worship and the place fills with young adults...all looking vogue, probably close to 500 end up pouring in. again i am in a state of unbelief. i am struck by the unbelievable contrast. one city yet so different. i can't help but wonder why, or maybe better how could they not know? do they know? as the worship begins i see hands lifted high worshiping...again i think, how can this culture be this way? do they understand what is happening a few blocks away? Have they seen how others in this city live? my judgement rises....how can they allow this to happen and go on about their perfect rich lives while women and children are being tortured and are dying..........my heart turned cold at the reality....why were we here? i wanted to scream at one point, scream do you realize!?!?!! and then i was flooded with a still voice that said remember how I see the earth I created...these are my children as well, you are here to show them. my mind began to real with the possibility. what if this young generation stopped the violence...what if they caught the vision? what if we all caught that vision...God's vision? It dawned on me that we are no different then these people. we sit in our comfortable lives while devestation happens all over..why do i look at it here with such indignation for what hasn't been done in reality what are we all doing to fullfill our mandate. Our call is not an option, how have we made it one? we are all called to help the oppressed period. we are all supposed to fullfill this call. if we do then Gods love can be made real..it was worth Him sending Jesus to die........how much is it worth to you?
In Him,
Kris

All for Redemption

I haven't really written or journeled much since we have been here. It takes me a while to process things. Most times I have found I won't start to truly process until I get back to the states. I don't know why- maybe it's my way of emotionally detaching so I can continue doing the work that needs to be done here, or maybe there is just not enough time for me to process one tragedy before I am slammed with another. Whatever the reason, I sit here thinking about day 1- and a girl who stole my heart.

Her name is Maria- she is 20 years old... my age. Our first interview. I rememberher first walking in and sitting on the couch- arms crossed... dressed in all black... and I wondered if that was a depiction of how her heart felt. Before she even spoke I could look in her eyes and see something was wrong- something had been taken from her, hurt her deeply. And I instantly wanted to save her. As we set up the camera and she began to tell her story, I am completely certain there is no way that I could have imagined something so horrific. My age... it kept flashing through my mind... my age. This girl was just like me, at the same point in life I find myself at- yet we could not have been more world's apart. As I watched her sit there, sobbing, pouring out 20 years of heartache, my own heart was shattered. It is rare, if ever, that I feel so much love for someone so instantly- without even knowing them. But in that moment I would have given anything to take her pain for her. I would have given all I had to protect her and show her she is loved, and make sure she never has to go there again- cost is no object. Rape. Abuse. Rejection. Property rather than a part of humanity. Suicide attempts. Hearing a mother tell you to try and kill yourself better next time because you would be doing a favor to society. I can't imagine being a mother and saying that to your child. Bought. Sold. Bought again. What part of your soul dies every single time... And again it flashes. My age...

I don't understand how these things can go on. But in the midst of hearing such horror, I also saw strength. This girl was a fighter- she won't ever give up. That gives me hope. Each part of this girl's story felt like a blow to my chest... my with every single one, all I could hear was Jesus saying "But my love is stronger..." And even in the midst of such depravity, I know it's true. His love is stronger than rape, abuse, rejection, all of it. And so in the midst of it all, I still see that He is good. His love is strong enough to heal anyone and everyone. It makes all things new, covers all, even this.

As much as it hurts to hear a story like Maria's, I also consider it such a gift. It confirms my calling. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am called to fight for these girls every day for the rest of my life. And I will. It's a fire deep in my soul to see them free. It's such a girft to me to be able to be cut by something that matters. Because those cuts turn to scars that remind you of the grace of God, what He feels, and what He sees when He looks at us. I wonder if what I feel for Maria is a small taste of the deep, unfathomable, relentless love that Jesus has for us. We are broken, slaves to the fall, drenched in our sin sith seemingly no hope. But when God sees our helpless state, He takes it for us. I only wish I could take Maria's pain for her. But Christ actually does- for you, for me, for us all. That's beautiful. Redemption is beautiful. And that is what I cling to.

"For the glory of it all, He came here. For the rescue of us all, that we may live. For the glory of it all. For redemption from the fall. For the glory of it all..." -David Crowder

Grace,
Ashley

Open My Eyes to Things Unseen

The dichotomy of this city riddles me. As we are driving to film some of the most impoverished parts of the city I am struck by all of the people busily going about their day, seemingly unaware of what is around them. These people seem much like us in the states- nicely dressed, clean, hustling in and out of stores... then we turn down a street. I think I literally sucked in air.. we were going to one of the places in the city called the garbage dumps. Looking ahead, I see houses and houses and houses made out of tin, stacked on top of each other. The stench of trash and rotting waste fills our nostrils. We park. My soul is screaming at this point- I look around at the people cluttered everywhere and as my feet hit the pavement littered with trash, this strange sensation came over me. I felt almost like an intruder. Like here I am, my nice jeans, my nice shirt, my nice jacket, and I want to see how they live. I almost felt dirty. Like who am I. The entire team began to look around and explore. I stood almost frozen. I had never seen anything even remotely comparable to this. The feeling of nausea came from the pit of my being- not because of the poverty, more so because of the vulnerability. There were children everywhere, no shoes, and again I was easily able to insert one of my children at any moment. They smiled grinning behind rotten teeth almost begging for our attention. I was still frozen. The people that we came with were obviously very comfortable there- they laughed and joked amongst each other and to some of the men that lived there. It all sounded like buzzing to me. The sounds were drowned out by the screaming in my head. Why do these children have to live in these conditions? Again, not because they have nothing but because I felt the presence of darkness so thick. Maybe it's because I had heard the stories previously of how children are stolen everywhere in this country. These children seem like sitting targets to me. I wanted to load them all up in the van and take them to a safe place. But where? There is no place safe here. That hits me like a ton of bricks. Even if I could get every child out of this situation, then what? I wanted to run- again the burden of what God has given MAG to do rushed over me. In my desperation He spoke. Break my heart for what breaks yours, I had prayed. Open my eyes to things unseen. Show me how to love like you. This is what I had begged. And this is what He has begun to do.

In Him,
Kris

age twelve....what does that number bring to mind....middle school, maybe a first crush, maybe a great vacation with family... probably not survival. sara sits next to me, i feel the confusion of her drug...she huffs paint thinner as do most the street kids...a coping mechanism. she explained that it helps make her not hungry, or cold, or feel anything for that matter. her life is one of the day to day. she dodges the police because they are not protection, they are violent to the kids on the street she explains...they see them as dirt to clean up or abuse whichever they deem fit. all of this seems awful but then comes the blow... she looks intently around the court yard...seemingly halfway attentive to what is around her yet very aware of the person she is looking for...her husband she calls him. the 21 year old boy that she is "married" to. i ask her what she looks forward to and she smiles, and says next year she wants to start a family...the breathe left my body and my mind began to spin...i looked at this little girl, her nails were filthy, her clothes were the same every day, her ears were caked in wax, and her smell....paint thinner..my heart rips inside as i pull her into my arms...this is akward for her she squirms a bit and then smiles her glassy eyes only partially aware of her surroundings..

these are the kids that are at risk everywhere here...the poverty is so thick and the survival a mandate..

everyday sara survives...at 12. this takes me awhile to come to grips with..i am stunned by the differences in her and my own daughter...i want to help her, but how?

how so we begin? i asked God show me what you see, break me for what breaks you...it is working...
In Him,
Kris

Psalm 34:18

I have never had to emotionally detach myself from someone as quickly as I did them... it wasn't anything they did to me or said against me, it was their very way of life that disturbed my soul... I was so uncomfortable.

When we first arrived I thought they were drunk... for some reason that would be permissable to me but perhaps that is hindsight in comparison to what was actually going on... when Courtney enlightened me that they were huffing soaked rags of paint thinner I immediately shut down and needed to get away. Every fiber in my body wanted to scream out, to take their paint thinner and thier rags and throw them away, but what good would any of that done?... This was their way of life... They had no home, no money, no food... all they had was their poison to become numb to it all... I understand the allure of numbness but I had infinitely less problems to get away from... They put me to shame...

I wonder if the others are as emotionally detached as I am? I hope so just so I can look at myself in the mirror and not see the callous monster I used to...

One kid got hit in the face with a soccer ball and cowered down in pain right in front of me... But I made no effort to comfort him. (HIM? "I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.") Why didn't I help him? Noone else did but since when, as a Christian, has that justified anything? I think it was because I was already doing so well emotionally detaching myself that I didn't want to ruin that by helping a 13 year old boy. (While that wasn't in the forefront of my mind it was no doubt subconsciously holding me back.) I was very cognicent that my countenance could have been mistaken or confused for disgust but it was a face of hopelessness, one shared with these children, only with them you had to search behind their glazed eyes to get a glimpse of it.

The vision of them slowly killing themselves will forever be etched in my mind... I can still smell them on me. Sweat... dirt... paint thinner... hopelessness... they reeked of despair and it was contagious. I felt like a shadow of a person among them.

I decide to type this down, hoping to transfer all memory of it with it so I never have to think about them again. What does it matter? In eight days I will be home and the street children will become nothing more than an afterthought... if only this could be true... emotional scars like this endure, not to drive us into depression but to ensure we continue with a passion that is just as real as the day we lived it.

-bryan

Day of rest...

we took a sabbatical today...we drove to Antigua which is an incredibly beautiful city that used to be the capital of Guatemala.... the cobble stone pavement was beautiful as was the the view of this city nestled in the middle of mountains and volcanos. great to get out ot the city and into the country..our team really needed the time. i think however, i saw a much different picture. again i was struck by the beauty on the outside, but the depravity on the inside...children everywhere begging. the looks on some of their faces was too much at times. being a mom i guess it touched me different the rest of the team, but all these chidren seemed to be exploited, just in a different way. a little girl with no arms dressed in a pink dress hobbled over to us to beg, the desperation in her eyes was soul wrentching. another little boy so dirty, begging for us to buy his stuff.....i know that this is the point, to make our hearts go out so we are propelled to give, and i know that we are supposed to politey say no thanks and walk away like i see tons of people able to do....but really??? i don't want to be able to not be torn for this. this is the loss of a childhood, a loss of the ability to be taken care of and laugh and giggle and run and play. dang it just shook me. then the pinnacle heart shatterer happened, a woman about 18 or 19 came up with her baby. she began saying something in spanish and pointing to her child. she lifted his little onesie and he had the medical condition that sometimes babies are born with where his belly had an open hemmorage and his organ was outside of his body. the mom had no money to get the bag and medicine to clean it and allow for safe draining. i was stunned...i stood there and a range of emotions shook through my core like a tornado. this would never happen in the U.S. this baby so in need of surgery...so dirty and vulnerable to infection....a momma desperate to get her baby help. she explained that she had no husband and her mom had just died..we asked her if we could purchase the stuff there that she needed and she had us follow her to the pharmacy...the bag and meds cost us under 20 U.S. dollars....we purchased her some formula and gave her more money to get clothes for the baby, and then we walked away....i was shaken again my core rocked..we walk away??? how?? i know that i can't save everyone in the world, but i also can't just brush off and keep trucking like this woman and baby never happened..someone on the team asked if i felt better because we helped her and i thought....really? no i wanted to shout i don't "feel" better! this baby is hurting and we took care of a minimal need....that is a big stretch to going about my way and feeling like i did something extra special...this is our mandate to help the widow to take care of the poor to protect the oppressed...i don't see this as optional....i pray i can find this baby medical care while i am here. i want try and help him....i am glad i feel this..i get to feel a small part of my very big God, we are the hands and feet of Jesus...i think He would feel the weight of these people..and i know He has never walked away...

In Him,
Kris