POST by LIZ: Foxy Morons

Friday was an oxymoron of a night!

A hundred and ten kids tearing through the centre; swimming, ping-ponging, fastidiously footballing, shooting hoops and basically chilling.  I love these teens. I love seeing the smiles on their faces and hearing the bouts of laughter, and I love knowing that their Friday nights used to be opposite to what they are nowadays. 

People responded positively to the disjointed devotion time.  Lips were actually mouthing the words to the songs our newly formed band belted out. Nicaragua seemed to stop and soak in Lorenzy´s, Fran´s and Yader´s mime performance depicting the physical/spiritual battles we mortals encounter. Heads bowed as Eduardo delivered the message then prayed. It was an awesome time.

But it was also a night filled with heartache; seeing kids as young as eleven high on homemade drugs and intoxicated with potent alcohol; young girls using their bodies to attract lustful attention, and watching the stifling effects of poverty and hopelessness.

We had gang members want to enter without surrendering their weapons, boys fooled into thinking they could hide their substance abuse from us even though the clouded, crazed look in their eyes snitched on them loud and clear.

Many find quick solutions to fix their habit and escape their depression: glue, house-cleaning products and whatever they can use to get that high. Homemade alcohol and drugs are easy to obtain.  Cheap to some, expensive to others. 

Pulperias, who bribe police, sell alcoholic substances that cause stomach rot and bone to decay and throw in a major hangover during this body eroding event. It costs about $2.50 for a 2 litre bottle, (it can be cheaper if the consumer provides the bottle). The word on the street is that two grams of pot costs less than $4, and one stick of marijuana costs less than 50 cents.     

Nicaraguan earnings are next to nothing, job opportunities are scarce, and a quality education is difficult to obtain. As a result, many youth in our barrio and surrounding neighbourhoods, are driven into a life of petty crime and corruption to feed their abusive habits which help them drift out of their harsh reality.

Throughout the night, Nestor pried baseball bats, pocket knives and machetes from hands as they entered through the gate. Jed sobered up bodies by throwing them into the pool, and I drew the short straw in having to speak with the 15 year old girl swimming provocatively in the pool, who was attempting to put into physical action Pitball´s controversial song, “Give me everything tonight”. 

 

My message was short and to the point “WAY too much love taking place right now, and put your t-shirt and shorts back on ASAP coz it´s not okay to go swimming in just your lacey underwear and hot-pink, push-up bra, that btw is two sizes too small!”   

While recalling the events of last night, I remember my dedicated mum. My dear mother, who never ceased to allow a night to go by without grabbing a cuppa T, finding a comfortable spot within a door frame at the top of the stairs, and reading stories of inspiring adventures to my siblings and me as we collapsed into our beds. 

The fairytale, The Faraway Tree, caused my imagination to dream of living and experiencing different worlds and people. The biography of the gang member turned Christian, Nicky Cruz, in Run-Baby-Run, deeply challenged me to truly believe God´s mighty powers of transforming the unlovely when just one person is willing to be God´s vessel.  The urge to develop bold faith – faith like that of David Wilkerson who snubbed his physical fears.

My mother´s sweet English voice hummed out stories, night after night. Stories of missionaries who willingly gave up everything and lived a life totally enthusiastic for the things of God. They all had a deep impact on me. Shaping me and inspiring me; particularly the life story of Jackie Pullinger, a woman who started a youth club for the opium drugged street kids of Hong Kong and made an incredible difference. 

Many have criticised what we have started.  Many have voiced how we focus too much on the fun.  Many have spoken out their concerns for our safety. Many question our state of mind!  (Okay, perhaps this one I question myself at times).  Sadly, it feels that many expect and some even hope that we fail.

And perhaps we will.  But when I see the faces of the oppressed, the broken, the bound, the addicted, the poor, the lost, the craving-for-love, the lonely, the unlovely. I see potential. I naively believe that through all the Friday night fun, relationships are being formed and lives are being transformed.

I don´t have much to give, yet what we have we´ll use. I still struggle with internal conflict and fall more than short of God´s glory and goodness, yet I know that God is using my inadequacies and gently encouraging me to trust him so much more.

Friday was enjoyable and hard!   

“As for me and my house, we´re gonna serve the Lord”