Medellin

It has been a very busy day today in Medellin. We went to the comunas ( slums ) on the north side of the city. Then we went up the famous gondolas to the top of these beautiful Andes mountains. It was breath-taking. However, on the way down, we came across a homicide site. It was shocking to see a dead body in the middle of the street. People were gathered around. The pastor told me that it is common to have 8-10 homicides per day here in Medellin--though the statistics reported are much lower. After that, we went to a cell-group. It was really nice to have fellowship, worship, and get to know the people in the house churches here in Medellin. It was inspiring. My heart was taken away by the people who live in extreme poverty in the midst of drug-related violence that plagues the city.

Being with the poor

After being a few days in Medellin, I've been attracted all the more to be with the poor. To be in the midst of those who have been brought to the bottom. It's when we meet with people like that something special happens.

Llegado en Medellin

I have arrived in Medellin. It has been a blessing as I have arrived in the house of a pastor and her family. It has been very good. I have learned so much over the last two days about life in Medellin. It's a beautiful a city, but also it has been plagued by violence in the comunas (slums), prostitution, and drugs. I went today to a family who just recently lost their son to homicide in their community. It has left the whole family preoccupied. It left a woman as a widow and a little boy as an orphan. It made me think. Violence is something that needs to be combated and we must respond with love and compassion to those who are affected by it--especially the orphans and the widows. This family lost their brother just a few months ago, but you can see that God is doing miracles in their family--bringing joy and peace in the midst of distress.

Colombia, South America...

Tomorrow, I am embarking on a journey which will start in Medellin, Colombia and eventually lead to the Amazon in Colombia and then Brazil. My heart is stirred and I am excited about the things God has in store for this trip.

A few months ago, when I would pray, Leticia, Colombia was on my heart. I had met a friend from there, Samuel, when I was at the YWAM base in Recife back in 2007 and he invited me to come there to the base in the Amazon. It just took a little while for that seed to grow.

While I was at the house of prayer a few weeks ago, I found out that a friend Steve from the International House of Prayer here in Georgia was going to do an inner-healing and deliverance school in Rey de Reyes ( King of Kings ) church in Cali, Colombia and he invited me to come with him.

I then reconnected with my friend, who is a pastor, Penn Clark and he connected me with some of his friends in Colombia. I made a contact with some of his friends in Medellin who welcomed me to stay with them. I became excited about this, I prayed, and then I decided to buy my ticket to go.

Brazil -- I remember

Brazil

I remember the sunsets of a tropical sun setting over top coconut trees, mango trees, and the warm breeze off the atlantic. My heart resonates with the rememberance of driving over the highway that connects Recife with Boa-Viagem beach in Pernambuco. The skylines filled with appartment buildings, and shacks scattered on the banks of the rivers leading to some of the largest slums in Latin America. The apperant dichotomy of the extreme wealth and poverty in the same neighborhood. I remember the festival of Sao Joao (Saint John), beautiful brazilian kids in the streets playing with firecrackers and smoke filling the streets in Camaragibe until it made it hard to breathe; Canjeica and Pamonia being sold in the streets celebrating the harvest of corn; people gathering together dancing forro and singing songs. I remember walking down the street hearing the cry of a man which sounding like a goat when it is slaughtered. I looked and saw a young man getting beating on the corner of a street by multiple men next to a small bar that sold only strong liquor which sat beneath a tree filled with vodoo dolls and other strange objects. I remember young pregnant women sitting in maternity classes sewing and stiching various objects-- without a father for their children and without an ability to read or write. I remember a kid from the street with broken beer glass bottle trying to murder another kid over a plastic bottle of sniffing glue that was supposedly stolen from him. I remember seeing all this on the street just next to men selling pipoca (popcorn) and churrasco (barbequed chicken and pork) who just continued to sell their as two street kids run by their carts. I remember grown girls sucking their thumbs aroung young boys smoking marijuana wearing bermuda shorts walking through their favelas as the days passed under the tropical sun. I remember a teenage boy walking down the street in front of me, filled with anger, cocking his revolver as he makes large strides. I remember the moment, when I realized the music in the street that people were dancing to was about prostituition. I remember handing out soup with friends to the poor seeing more than 50 kids come with their plastic containers with warm soup and running back to their one-room houses on dirt paths as fast as they could so that they could come back and refill their containers again. I remember the sun brighting brigher in those days and a feeling of bliss and joy. I remember seeing kids not just with plastic containers in their hands, but with huge smiles, laughing, as they would wait to get soup to bring to their families with great happiness. I remember watching just one pot of soup serve a whole community--as if God had multiplied the food. I remember the tropical forest, the sloths, the monkeys, and kids climbing tamarind trees to pick tamarind fruits to suck as they came back from playing football tournaments. I remember a woman asking for prayer for her daughter to get healed from various mental and physical disabilities. I remember watching a whole family come to believe and recieve the salvation of Jesus for the first time...

I remember visiting the streets one evening, bringing first-aid to some of those who were stuck living on the streets of old-Recife. I remember asking someone, "Onde foi o homem com quem eu estava falando na semana passada? (where was the guy I was talking to last week?)" Only to hear, "Ele morreu (He died)." I said, "Porque? (why?)" They said, "Trafico das drugas. (Drug trafficking)." I remember the statistics about the city of Recife being known as one of the most violent in the world. It's a hard statistic when you have to swallow the fact that your friend just died. I think, "What if that was my son?" That was somebody's son. Thousands of sons and daughters dying each year to murder. I remember going on the bus from Recife to Camaragibe, trying to be careful about putting my wallet in my front pocket--having had it stolen previously. I remember listening to a pastor preaching a sermon and then stopping to share that how he had been assaulted just the night before on the street and held gunpoint.

I remember hills covered in poorly constructed slums and the feelings of great poverty. I remember people going to the grocery store to buy basic household items, but showing up at the counter without enough money to buy what they need.

to be continued...

Amazon Basin

I am now in the process of planning to go stay to the Amazon Basin near the Brazilian and Colombian border. There in the midst of the jungle, there are tribes with little or no contact with western civilization. There are tribes that have ancient practices and traditions. It's a place of beauty yet there is a people possessed by fear.
Some of the indigenous practices are beyond what can be comprehended. HAKANI tells the story of one who cries out from the opression.

"If we act out of fear, the only possible outcome is sin..." Bill Johnson --the pastor of Bethel church in Redding, Ca.