Things in life have been so different and so off and so unplanned, that I, kind of sporadically, and maybe out of hope that I'd find something new and different and finally something exciting to look forward to this year, decided to go to Kenya with a nonprofit called The Supply.
We spent many of our days in a slum in Lenana, Kenya. When I first arrived, it felt like something you kind of expect when you think of "slums". The roads are bumpy, trash covers much of the ground, animals run loose, bathrooms wreak, there is no plumbing, the housing units are crowded and made of thin metal sheets, and children and parents are out and about - probably because their units are too small to fit all of them. In some areas, the roads are very narrow and contain dead contaminated creeks, in other areas, the road is big and inviting. Some sections are plagued by drunkards, and another area has very poor living conditions. At first, I feel bad for them, even though I try to stop myself. I don't want to become some random American who comes and feels bad for residents of the slums because I think my life is so great and I've had so much, but at the same time, how can I not feel something in my heart for these people? Especially for the children, who don't have access to basic necessities.
Where is God in all of this? Why is there this kind of unfair living, where they have no control over their situation? How is it that some of us are born into privilege and others into extreme poverty? I think many of us could think that, but as we immersed ourselves into the community, mingled with residents, and played with the children, I could see the flaws in that thought.
There are smiles in these children's faces that tell you that even if life isn't fair, life is good. If you just look at their smiles, I can't see poverty. When you see them study in school, they outshine their makeshift desks and notebooks made of newspapers - they are stars. The teachers see the same thing. They see promise and potential in these children. One of them, a man of wisdom, says an often cited phrase, "it's not how you start, it's about how you finish." And these children's parents, no matter what the situation, when we ask them, "what is your religion?" - without fail, at least in my day out, they say, "Christian." I guess God is with them.
Later, as I walked around the slums, all I could sense was God. God was everywhere - in their home posters, in their smiles, in their hearts. This community was full of hope, not despair.
Later, as I walked around the slums, all I could sense was God. God was everywhere - in their home posters, in their smiles, in their hearts. This community was full of hope, not despair.
At the end of my trip, someone asked me what I thought about the kids, the community, and their situation. Did I leave with anything eye-opening or something life-changing? I couldn't really answer, because in some way, I knew they would be fine. God is with them in Kenya - you can tell. And in fact, although I may have thought, where is God in all of this poverty - in the same way - they can look at me or come to my land and say, "where is God in his life? Look at how he replaces God with meaningless things."
I guess we all have our own battles, but one thing's for sure, whether I think it's fair or not, nothing can separate us from the love of God.
I guess we all have our own battles, but one thing's for sure, whether I think it's fair or not, nothing can separate us from the love of God.
For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. - Romans 8:38-39
