Same broken heart, different trash dump

I have a lot of favorite days. 

Days spent in New York City, spur-of-the-moment shopping days with my mom, days filled with the laughter of my best friends, lots of Christmases and many many days at church camp. 

 

Then there are two days that don’t seem to fit in with the rest. They were both really gross, physically and mentally draining, and they smelled pretty bad. You see, these two days were spent in trash dumps. 

 

Last year, it was the day a man asked me “don’t we have a nice view?” as I stood in the middle of a filthy Honduras trash dump and looked out at a beautiful statue of Jesus. This weekend, it was in the Philippines. My team had the opportunity to spend a Saturday at places called Trash Mountain and Smokey Mountain. Their names describe them pretty well. It’s a trash dump with a charcoal factory that puts out so much smoke. Children (who work there) walk around covered head to toe in black ash. And people live in these places.

 

We spent our day with a Pastor and his wife. He proudly showed his church to us..a church that was smaller than my house and could probably fit into my church at home about 1,000 times. He told us stories of how faithful The Lord had been to him and his church.

 

We went on a few feedings with Pastor Mateo in the community, where we were quickly met by sweet people with big smiles and “welcome to the Philippines!” shouts. We fed families, gave out some shoes, and basically hung out with the poorest of the poor all day long. I looked into the faces of extreme poverty, again, and I broke. Again.

I’m supposed to feel bad for them, right? I’m supposed to want to pack them all in my suitcase and take them home to just make it all better for them, right? I’m supposed to hate this for them. And I do. 

 

Then I see their smiles. I hear their laughs. I see the joy in a family finding fresh vegetables in the middle of a trash dump. I see the discipline in the tiny church body who gets up every morning at 4am to pray for two hours before they start their day of digging through trash to make money. I meet the kids with the snotty noses and bare feet who have the biggest smiles and just want a hug. I meet the man in Honduras who seems to not even realize the filth of his surroundings, because when he looks up all he sees is a glorious view. These people, these children of God, seem to “get it” more than I do.

 

Ever since I graduated last year, my life hasn’t made much sense on the outside. It’s been a season of obeying The Lord- even if that means transferring colleges after one semester. Even if that means living at home. Even if that means saying yes and spending 3 months away from school and 8,300 miles away from America. If I’m honest with you, I’ve spent a lot of this season of my life praying for God to change my circumstances. I haven’t been content with where I’m living, where I’m working, who I’m living life with or who isn’t there to live life with me. 

 

 

Circumstances truly matter nothing in comparison to the presence leading me through them each and every day. The truth is, God isn’t that concerned with my circumstances. In fact, He could change my circumstances for me every time I asked…but I would still complain. I still wouldn’t be content. I’m learning that God is more interested in declaring than explaining. He’s interested in declaring who He is, what I am, and what He is able to do in my life. He’s not so interested in explaining to me why my circumstances are the way the are. Because if I have His presence with me, why would I focus on the trashy (pun intended) circumstances around me? All I have to do is look up to see Him, and that’s a much better view. 

 

Here’s to hoping God doesn’t have to keep taking me into trash dumps for me to learn this lesson. But hey, I’d be up for it. Just add it to the list of favorite days.

 

PS: I believe the guy in Honduras now. It really is always a nice view..