But, after this past Wednesday night at church, I again (as I have been so many times) was prompted to finally write this post. The message has not changed much since I first thought about it, but God continues to bring this experience back to my mind and I will never forget the images. They are forever burned into my brain.
The Bocaria is a trash dump in Mozambique. Many people live there at the base of the hills of trash. On my 1st trip to Mozambique, I opted out of going to visit the dump. I did not want to see or smell it. I was afraid. I ended up regretting not going.
When I returned the 2nd time to Africa, I went to the bocaria. However, we had the option of going to the top of the dump, or to the houses located at the bottom. I again was afraid to hike through the trash, and opted to go visit the houses along the base.
When I say houses, I mean small cinder block homes that are one room and can barely fit 5-6 people inside. We went house to house asking anyone if they wanted prayer. It was heart-wrenching to see and humbling at the same time to see how little they have and how much I have(My bathroom is bigger than their house).
Iris Ministries has a small church and preschool at the bottom of the dump as well. After an hour or so we all met up there to have a small church service. It was mostly children and older women.
I will never forget when they started taking up an offering. I was shocked. I was thinking, "What in the world are they doing!? How can they ask these poor people who live in a trash dump to give an offering!?" But they did, and the kids were so excited!! I don't know what they put in there, but I had to hold back my tears, I felt so convicted in that moment. How many times had I held back my money because things were tight that month or because I did not think I had enough?! And here I was in one of the poorest countries in the world, in a trash dump, among literally starving children, and they were EXCITED about putting in whatever they had (and it may have just been bottle caps)in the offering. They literally gave all they had to Jesus. The 1st time I went to church after returning from that trip I lost it when they did the offering and there was no holding back those tears. I still think of it every time there is an offering.
My 3rd trip to the bocaria was when I was there teaching. I went with some IRIS missionaries and short term visitors. This time I went to the top of the dump. We walked up to 4 children. Ages 4-8 maybe. They were sitting around a flattened cardboard box that had a pile of old food on it. As we walked up closer to them hundreds of flies flew up from the food then settled back down as we stopped moving. The children were eating that food right before our eyes. I don't know where their mom was, or where they lived, but it was all I could do not to lose it right then and there.
I will NEVER forget that image.
I think the most shocking thing I learned that day was that some of these people CHOOSE to live in the bocaria. What?! They choose to be there?
Someone asked the missionary if they try to get the people out of the dump, and his answer was that they help anyone who wants to get out. But that alot of them want to stay there; that is their home and they were born there. It is all they know. I was shocked. Why would they want to stay there if they could get out?
That's when I realized something about myself, and people in general. How often do we settle for so much less than what God has planned for us? How much am I missing out on because I am comfortable with staying in the "trash" rather than getting out to see what God has for me?
His word says in 1 Cor. 2:9 "No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him."
It is hard to wrap my mind around those people who don't want to leave the Bocaria, but I am no different. That's all they know; it's their home. My "trash dump" may not look like theirs, but as long as I am comfortable with my life and not seeking God's absolutely best for my life, I am in no better situation. My dump just looks nicer than theirs.
I don't know why I live in America and these kids live in Africa. I don't know why alot of things happen in this world, but I know (and still learning to believe it for myself 100%) that GOD IS GOOD and that "He knows the plans He has for us, plans to prosper and not harm us, & plans to give us a hope and a future." Jer. 29:11.
If it is true for me, it is true for them too. It just may look a little different.
At church last Wed. night the pastor spoke about
"Becoming who we are in Christ".
Meaning:
Am I asking God for things He has already given me?
Since I am a believer, I am a child of God.
I am His daughter.
I am a daughter of THE KING.
I have a crown,
robe,
ring,
sandals,
carriage, etc.
I have all the things a King's daughter would have. But instead of wearing each of these things and riding in the carriage, I am holding my crown and robe and walking in the ditch. I don't need to walk in the ditch, because Jesus paid the price for my sins, but I am still living as though I am not a child of the KING OF KINGS. I don't think I deserve all His Goodness, so I stay outside in the cold and walk barefoot. I settle for less than God intends for me.
Jesus has set us free. It is done, paid for, finished. But until I know & more importantly BELIEVE IT FOR MYSELF, I will continue to drag all of those things along instead of wearing them & walking in freedom.
I know this may not make sense, and I probably lost 1/2 of my readers 10 paragraphs ago, but I learned so much from my trips to the bocaria. This one continues to haunt me. I don't want to be content to stay in my 'dump' or to stay in it because that is what I have always done, I don't know better, or I am too afraid to see what else is out there. I want to believe God has more in store for me than I can even imagine. It is not easy, and it takes a daily dose of trusting God. But I am trying. And I pray for all those who live in the bocaria, that even in the dump Jesus becomes alive & real to them. He meets us exactly where we are. Be it in smalltown USA or the bocaria in Africa.
I pray that the children of the bocaria get to know their King and see that they don't have to stay there just because their parents and grandparents did, or because they have never been outside those walls. I pray for the missionaries and visitors who go and pray with them, that God would use them to bring the Good News to the Bocaria and beyond.
Say a prayer for them today. God is there in the bocaria, and He is here with us too.
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