I’ve been down with Caravan Ministries in Mexico now more times than I can count, but this time was perhaps the most emotional for me ever. Picture a hideous hillside. Dirt. Trash. Random assortment of plywood thrown together for shelter. Only a valley’s view below, a tract of newer homes with actual paved roads welcoming more forturnate back home. But on this hillside, just dirt, trash, and a view.
Out of the hammered shelter come three of the four family members. Mom, skinny with bad teeth. Older brother, deaf and doesn’t know sign language. Younger brother, all smiles. The fourth member of the family, the dad dying of AIDS. He’s lying limp on a dirty mattress which is lying on a dirt floor inside their existing home. “Gracias, hermanos” is all he can manage to speak. “Thanks, brothers.” And oh yeah, mom is skinnier than she was six months ago because she’s dying of AIDS too.
The deaf brother and the smiley one will be orphans soon. And we’ve got a day to do two things: Build them a new home and leave them with as much of Jesus’ love as possible. I can’t help but feel like we needed to do more. And we still need to do more. Tearful, fervent prayers continued long after we were there. And again this morning.
The 13 of us were touched by our Lord this weekend. Spoken to. Ministered to. Broken down. Built up. God’s good at that.
It seems to happen this way all the time when we position ourselves around the broken and the poor and the needy. It’s then we see our own brokenness, poverty, and need. Here’s a quick glimpse of our weekend: