I’m hungry.
He rubs his belly. Longing in his eyes.
How do I help? How do I even begin to help?
Here in Colombia, the streets are rich and vibrant. Colorful and alive. They’re also full of a lot of broken dreams, refugees, longing hearts.
It is a country in need of hope and help. It is a place in need of peace and relief. Not because Colombia is in a hard place, but because Venezuela is.
Ohana arrived in Colombia over a week ago, in the city of Medellin, for debrief over the past few months, Costa Rica and Panama. The first day, a few hours after getting off the plane, we went to explore the neighborhood our hostel was located in.
Immediately we were hit with extreme poverty. There are so many refugees from Venezuela living on the streets. Because they can’t get work permits, most of them are on the streets selling candy, bags of chips, and other small items, trying to stay alive.
My squamate, Sharon, and I found a cute little coffee shop a few blocks from the hostel and sat down to catch up. Shortly after ordering, a boy who was around ten walked up to us. He looked tired. He looked beyond his years. He looked at us with longing and unfilled needs in his eyes, rubbed his belly.
“I’m hungry.”
We hadn’t even ordered food, and didn’t know how to help.
The next morning on my way to the shop, I saw him sleeping on a cardboard box mat. My heart jumped to my throat. How do you take that in and how do we live in this reality?
While I’ve seen poverty on the Race multiple times, it’s looked different. Of course, we’ve seen people in need. We’ve helped them. But how on this scale? How do you try to help all of these people in need?
You can’t.
It isn’t the answer we want to be told or come to. We want to help every single on of these people. We want them to know there’s a God who sees them, that this isn’t His will for them, for their families. But how do you begin to try to share that kind of love with this number of them?
My heart aches that I can only stop and pray for them, give them change, or buy supplies for PB&J or sandwiches and help them for such a short time. We want answers. We want solutions. We want change.
They want to be able to go home. To be back in Venezuela, among their normal lives, their friends and families. But they can’t go home. There isn’t anything for them here, either.
How do we bridge the gap? How do we help?
We hit the streets with love. We hit the streets with a bread bag full of PB&Js. We hand them out and pray prayers of rescue, hope, grace, and love. We go to the streets to say, “We see you. We see your pain. We can’t make it better forever. But we can make it better for a moment. And we will sit with you in your pain.”
We’ve only been here a few weeks, and it’s been difficult. It’s a lot to take in, and can get overwhelming zooming out and seeing the whole picture. But when we stop to look at the individuals, the families. To bring them pizza, or take them to the movies for the first time their lives, we see a slice of heaven. Those smiles, their eyes light up because someone sees them. Someone wants to help them, if even for a little while. That makes it all worth it.
Jesus came to seek and save the lost. We get to see and love the displaced. I can’t think of anything I’d rather be doing in my time here in Colombia than loving on these people. This will be one of the hardest months to leave simply because we have to trust God to keep providing for them. And to bring peace to Venezuela so they can return home.
I’ve seen Jesus all over this first week and a half in Colombia. He’s been everywhere. In my squamates going out. In the eyes of the people we are serving. In the baristas telling us that if we want to pay for food, they’ll give it to a specific family or kid who comes by. We’re trying to give help the best we can. But if I’m being honest, it’s damn hard to not want to just give every cent I have. The whole thing breaks my heart, and hearts aren’t made to break.
Why do some of us have so much and others so little? There’s a million questions in my heart. So many related to why them and not me?
I find myself more every day not wanting to be back in the States. So much of the country seems so far from me now. I’ve seen a lot. Lived a lot these past ten months. I’m not coming home the same. If I did, the past ten months would have been wasted. Home will be a shock, no doubt. But right now Colombia is home, and all I want to do is help my neighbors more.
