changed forever

I was 15 when it happened the first time.

Surrounded by a group of young missionaries like myself, I had climbed to the top of a mountain where an indigenous community of El Salvadorians lived. It was one of the most remote areas I had ever seen, let alone visited. (The sights and feelings are still as vivid to me today as they were when I was actually standing there). On a mountaintop above the clouds, we played with shoeless children, and shared the Love we knew as best we could, with hugs and an interpreter. It was the group of teenage boys that did it to me. They were very interested in what we ‘students from the United States’ had to say. I told them about Christ and his redemptive work, and our own personal need to be forgiven. I told them how the Christian life isn’t easy or magical, but how in a moment we can change forever if we choose Him.

They were mesmerized and wanted to pray right away. I remember thinking they truly had the faith of a child. They didn’t care to debate theology, and they weren’t just agreeing because I had blonde hair and blue eyes like others I had met in the month I was there… These guys were serious.

We said a prayer together, my heart swelled, and I handed them some pamphlets with scripture verses to get them started in understanding their new lives. They eagerly took what I offered and began flipping through the booklets, hunger in their eyes. My breath caught in my throat when I noticed that one guy in particular was holding his pamphlet upside-down, although nodding interestedly as if he understood what he saw. He couldn’t read, I realized. That’s when it happened.

My heart broke.

There is a huge difference between having a broken heart and feeling your heart break. It’s the element of compassion. What makes someone decide to give their life for a greater cause? It’s a deep seated conviction and tenderness toward others that says, ‘I have been forgiven of so much, how can I not reach out?’ And once you get a good taste of it, you’ll never be the same.

6 years later, it happened again right before my eyes.

Having spent several summers overseas after that first experience in El Salvador, I had grown from just traveling to actually leading large groups on short-term trips. The purpose of my life had become quite real to me after that first trip. I never thought I’d be a full-time missionary, but I knew that I would take mission trips throughout the rest of my life. This trip was to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil and I was co-leading a team of teenagers. I had heard of the ministry of ‘Life to the Dump,’ from trip planners who had gone ahead of us, but I was in no way prepared to see what was just over that last hill.

When the bus stopped on the side of the road, I couldn’t see the landfill yet, but I could smell it and see the hundreds of birds circling overhead. The translator asked us to be especially careful not to cover our noses, because it would be insulting to the people who lived there. I knew I was setting an example, so I would be sure not to.

I will never forget the moment I saw it… saw them. As far as the eye could see, the canvas was covered with mountains of trash, some pigs and cows laying in the piles, small children playing and chasing each other and a sea of women with handkerchiefs on their heads scouring the mounds for treasures. I was shocked. Speechless. Heartsick. I remember calculating each step, doing my best to avoid muddy spots, and holding my breath so I wouldn’t gag. I avoided eye contact with the others on my team for a long time, simply because I didn’t want to share a glance of horror with anyone. Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. ‘This is their life,’ I thought. It was about that time that I looked up to see one of the younger girls in our group, looking blankly and yet horrified at the landscape. Tears were rolling down her cheeks and her shoulders sank as she dropped her face into her hands, shaking her head slowly. I watched her heart break.

Unless you have a heart of steel, it is in these moments that compassion can overwhelm you. To me the word compassion rings with an air of tenderness and humility. While this is true, compassion is also full of strength. It is literally ‘a deep awareness of the suffering of another coupled with the wish to relieve it.’ One ounce of compassion has the strength to actually move you into action.

Several of the girls had to be carried back to the bus that day because they actually gave the shoes off their feet. We were powerless to change the conditions of the people in the dump, but we could give what we had, and do our best to touch their hearts. At least we could represent the Hope available to them.

If we are tender to the needs of others and allow our hearts to be broken over the things that hurt the heart of God, we will not only enable ourselves to be moved into a place of action, but we might just stumble onto discovering God’s will for our lives.

I discovered a quote sometime ago and taped it to my computer as a constant reminder to think beyond myself...

“Give until it stops hurting.”