All Kids Smile
I felt like I had gone back in time or entered another world altogether as I walked around the village of San Andres. This remote people of Nicaragua can only be reached by boat, so we took a ten-hour trip in pocahontas-style dug-out canoes down the Rio Coco River, which makes up much of the northern boundary of Nicaragua. Stepping into their village was like turning the pages of a National Geographic magazine. This was a once-in-a-lifetime experience to journey into a tropical paradise to reach a remote people and spread the gospel. I could hardly believe where I was or that it was even real.
The people and their language and culture fascinated me: the wooden houses on stilts, the hammocks hanging on the porches, the livestock roaming the paths, the women washing their clothes in the muddy water of the Rio Coco, the barefooted children playing soccer in the mud or hopscotch on the hard-packed dirt. Oh, the simplicity of life.
In the same place as the towering coconut trees, lush mountains, dynamic clouds, and majestic creation coexisted the most intense poverty I have ever seen. You could see the roughness of life in the aged faces of the men and women. Barefooted children covered in dirt and mud looked at you with big, dark, hungry eyes. Their bellies were swollen from malnutrition and parasites. I have always seen pictures like these in World Vision magazines and such, but now I have looked into those eyes and touched those children.
And the most amazing thing is that I have also seen them smile.
There lives a joy that cannot be pounded out by poverty, no matter how absolute or desperate it seems. It cannot be killed or destroyed by harshness of existence. It truly must be a joy of the inmost being, of the heart, and of the Lord. I will always remember watching a group of dark-skinned, big bellied boys around the age of eight play futbol (soccer) in the pouring rain. With torn, dirty cloth underwear as their only attire, their bare, calloused feet slipped and slid through the mud that made up their field. Piles of cow manure covered the playing grounds, but after a few minutes of hard rainfall, running, and sliding, the piles existed no longer. It all mixed with the mud, which they kicked, splashed, and ate as the rolled on the ground. I have never heard such laughter or seen such gigantic smiles. As the rain poured and glistened on their bodies, laughter filled the moist air. How beautiful it was to see such poverty and such joy mingling together like the fresh rain with the dirty mud. When I looked upon those children and watched them play, I couldn't see the dirtiness or the poverty. I could only see the joy. Light always overcomes the darkness.
As I explored San Andres and wandered all around, I let fascination and wonder overtake me. I didn't know why I was so captivated until I realized something. Sometimes you can know a person for a long time and then suddenly find out something new about them like an interesting habit or hobby. Oh, I didn't know you rock-climb in the summer...or play the ukulele in your free time...or like ranch dressing on french fries. As I pondered what I saw in San Andres - in its people, language, culture, and natural beauty - I realized that I was learning something new about the Lord. God, I didn't know you did this! You created this place, you know and love these people, you sustain this village. It is only by you that they exist and survive. I have never seen this side of your character, this aspect of your nature.
From my trip on the river, I gained a bigger vision of who God is. He expanded my view of who He is and how He provides. When He promises to provide, that doesn't always mean that everyone gets a five-star hotel, but it does mean that out of His hand comes exactly what His people need at the exact time they need it. Sometimes that is just a roof over a head, a bowl of beans and rice, a parasite pill, and a soccer ball in the pouring rain.
Oh, God is so much bigger than I ever imagined. He is active in every corner of the world, even the most remote and exotic places. His love reaches farther than we can fathom, and His provision is unfailing. In the midst of poverty, He gives richness of faith. And in the pouring rain, He makes all kids smile.
The people and their language and culture fascinated me: the wooden houses on stilts, the hammocks hanging on the porches, the livestock roaming the paths, the women washing their clothes in the muddy water of the Rio Coco, the barefooted children playing soccer in the mud or hopscotch on the hard-packed dirt. Oh, the simplicity of life.
In the same place as the towering coconut trees, lush mountains, dynamic clouds, and majestic creation coexisted the most intense poverty I have ever seen. You could see the roughness of life in the aged faces of the men and women. Barefooted children covered in dirt and mud looked at you with big, dark, hungry eyes. Their bellies were swollen from malnutrition and parasites. I have always seen pictures like these in World Vision magazines and such, but now I have looked into those eyes and touched those children.
And the most amazing thing is that I have also seen them smile.
There lives a joy that cannot be pounded out by poverty, no matter how absolute or desperate it seems. It cannot be killed or destroyed by harshness of existence. It truly must be a joy of the inmost being, of the heart, and of the Lord. I will always remember watching a group of dark-skinned, big bellied boys around the age of eight play futbol (soccer) in the pouring rain. With torn, dirty cloth underwear as their only attire, their bare, calloused feet slipped and slid through the mud that made up their field. Piles of cow manure covered the playing grounds, but after a few minutes of hard rainfall, running, and sliding, the piles existed no longer. It all mixed with the mud, which they kicked, splashed, and ate as the rolled on the ground. I have never heard such laughter or seen such gigantic smiles. As the rain poured and glistened on their bodies, laughter filled the moist air. How beautiful it was to see such poverty and such joy mingling together like the fresh rain with the dirty mud. When I looked upon those children and watched them play, I couldn't see the dirtiness or the poverty. I could only see the joy. Light always overcomes the darkness.
As I explored San Andres and wandered all around, I let fascination and wonder overtake me. I didn't know why I was so captivated until I realized something. Sometimes you can know a person for a long time and then suddenly find out something new about them like an interesting habit or hobby. Oh, I didn't know you rock-climb in the summer...or play the ukulele in your free time...or like ranch dressing on french fries. As I pondered what I saw in San Andres - in its people, language, culture, and natural beauty - I realized that I was learning something new about the Lord. God, I didn't know you did this! You created this place, you know and love these people, you sustain this village. It is only by you that they exist and survive. I have never seen this side of your character, this aspect of your nature.
From my trip on the river, I gained a bigger vision of who God is. He expanded my view of who He is and how He provides. When He promises to provide, that doesn't always mean that everyone gets a five-star hotel, but it does mean that out of His hand comes exactly what His people need at the exact time they need it. Sometimes that is just a roof over a head, a bowl of beans and rice, a parasite pill, and a soccer ball in the pouring rain.
Oh, God is so much bigger than I ever imagined. He is active in every corner of the world, even the most remote and exotic places. His love reaches farther than we can fathom, and His provision is unfailing. In the midst of poverty, He gives richness of faith. And in the pouring rain, He makes all kids smile.
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