A pair of shoes

Joy....Humility....Blessed.....Loved... those are just a few things I feel right now. All I do know is that I am sitting in my room with a pair of brand new and expensive church shoes that were not bought with my hands, but with those of a man who struggles with the weight of poverty. I´ll begin with the story of a boy I met in February named Alex. 

This little boy was like none other that I had encountered in Villa Hermosa. It is hard to find glimpses of Jesus when you are surrounded by children who live such awful lives, but when I met this child, it was like a light had been given to me while walking down this long and dark tunnel. His eyes were so big and his smile made everything seem so much better. You literally could not think of anything negative while watching this young man. His hugs were addictive and I would repeat all those moments he fell asleep in my arms if I could. When I saw him.. I saw a true disciple. Although young... his heart was growing rapidly. 

So here I am.... July 27th. heading to his house to ride to church with him and his family. His father, the pastor of the church, had invited me to start attending regularly. Now let me remind you, this family has the same struggles the other people do living here. Some days they eat, others they don´t. Some days Alex has clean clothes, other times he has to wear the same shirt, pants, and underwear several days in a row. The parents have little to nothing, yet run a church built by a mission team and tend to their six children. 

As I stepped into the home, I was greeted with hugs from all but 1..... Alex. About 6 seconds later, he came limping in with a bright red face and red spots all over him. He was sick with the virus, Chikungunya, which is spread by mosquitoes and leaves terrible joint problems along with a high fever and hot bumps. Looking into his bloodshot, teary eyes, I knew it was bad. But this very sick boy looked down to see that my feet were filthy from walking. In fear of tracking in dirt to the church service, I asked if I could clean them at the house. Immediately, Alex led me outside and brought out a bucket containing water and his clothes he was waiting to wash. I told him I could do it myself, but before I could finish he took my sandals off and put them in the bucket with his clothes, making the water and his clothes dirty. Scrubbing them clean, he handed them back and then started on my feet. This very sick child.... this child who wanted clean clothes and to simply lie down.. put the feet of a healthy man who had more than enough clean clothes in his only few pairs of clothing and sacrificed his own needs for my want... And the story doesn´t end there.

The father of Alex walked in and said that He would like to buy me some shoes for church. I told him I could buy some with my money, but He refused over and over again. So I was escorted to their car, which was falling apart, and used the little gas they had to take me to the store. While there, He used what I believe was the majority of his money to purchase shoes that I wouldn´t have a problem with buying back at home. They were beautiful and comfortable....and well bought by a man who gave up fathers day because he knew they didn't have any money to celebrate it. Bought by a man who couldn´t give his children any birthday parties because of the lack of payment he receives at his job. Bought by a man who looked at a missionary, knowing he had more than enough money, and went ahead and served him anyways. 

Everyone who goes on mission trips has this intentionality to give to those who are poor, but for the first time in my entire life... I had the needy give back to me. And I saw Jesus... this powerful... merciful...humbling Jesus. And the blessings still did not stop....

Today is Father´s Day in the Dominican republic and at church, the congregation honored all those who had held a father figure position one way or another. They called up each man at a time thanking him for doing what must fathers here run away from. Then out of nowhere my name was read aloud on the microphone. The words that followed brought me to tears. ¨this is given to a man who has become like a father to dozens and dozens of children who need one in Villa Hermosa¨.

I am nothing but a vessel... a simple follower who does what his Father tells him... but when I heard those words.... I felt as if God was standing right there speaking them into my heart. And I am relieved. Your hardest critic is yourself, and man have I been criticizing myself. My entire time here has been moments of wondering if anything I am doing is actually making a dent... and nights like tonight make it clear to me that God wants me to keep pressing in with this village. I hope he is doing the same with you and where you are at. I am going to leave you with a challenge. 

If a family of 8 who have little to nothing can live out a life of missions and servant hood.... there is no doubt that you can to. Get up and serve my brothers and sisters. The needy are calling your name. I love you all... Goodnight. 

Alex after crying in my arms due to having to wear the same clothes for days, reading in scripture about how God providing for His children 

Missions: in the form of a 10 year old.

My eyes burn. They burn when I see a hungry child pressed against the glass at the restaurant I am at starving to just have a taste of what's on my plate. They burn when I see the aftermath of what an abusive father can do to the back of his four year old child with a belt. They burn when I stand outside of a pool hall at night only to find a congregation of children sitting and watching as their mothers prostitute themselves half naked in front of strange men that look nothing like their fathers. And They burn most when a child clenches your hand, begging for you to be his father and you aren't the least surprised because the scars across his arms and face show reason why he asked in the first place.

That is what experiencing a third world country can do to you. You are scarred with things you can never unsee. They are forever stamped into your brain. but... there are also moments that remind you why you bought your plane tickets in the first place. Moments like what happened today.

They followed me. 6 of them. Some trailing at a distant and the others at my side with my arm over their shoulders. the walk to the store wasn't far but enough to cause the attention of an elderly woman under a tree. At first her words were too soft to understand, but after being dragged towards her by the children, I realized what she wanted. food. Just some rice and chicken. She hadn't eaten at all yet lived seconds away from the store. And there she sat asking kindly but embarrassingly for some food to eat. At first I was hesitant because giving food to her meant an immediate crowed of other civilians asking for the same thing. And my money couldn't cover all of them. So I kindly saluted her and walked away. But as I got closer to the store the bible verse Matthew 25:35 came to mind. "For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in."....

I could easily enter the store, purchase the food, and hand it to the woman, but I felt God tell me to go about things differently. I prayed for a moment and then looked down at what filled the empty spaces between my fingers. With wide eyes and crooked teethe there stood the children. But.... they were no longer children to me. There they stood with scraped knees and runny noses.. Missionaries. I placed the different foods in each of their hands then asked simply if they would like to be a missionary. With a large grin they nodded proudly then ran as fast as they could towards the elderly woman. As I walked out of the store, a look of astonishment swept across my face. And I became more amazed when just 10 minutes later I saw one of my kids, Eddy, buy candy with his own money only to pass it out to all the other boys playing with me and Blake.

Just when you think our effort has run out. Just when you believe that there is nothing else that can be done in the community of Villa Hermosa, cracks of hope begin to submerge. A neighborhood once full with fighting and drugs and hatred, was now showing little bits and pieces unity and hope and love and.....well.... Jesus. I left Villa Hermosa today witnessing the presence of Jesus. He is beginning to bring on a revolution and I am blessed enough to get a front row seat to witness it all.

The sun began to set as our footprints left the town followed by fifteen other sets. It was time to go home, but still they followed. I pulled one in close, and the words he began to whisper into my ear stopped my heart. "I'm a missionary!", he said smiling. It wasn't necessarily the words that brought joy, but rather it was the fact that they left the mouth of a child covered in scars from abuse and a past that you wouldn't dare ask about. "I'm a missionary......" hm...

Thank you for the prayers and the donations. It is being put to good use here! From a bicycle to loads of food for families, you guys are doing just as much of missions here as I am. Keep up the good work!! with love,
                              Landon