Meeting Jesus in Kenya

Two months ago, I traveled to Kenya for an educational conference, some touring, and a few days with my friend’s cousin who runs a children’s ministry for street children. My friend and I had no expectations for our time with her cousin, other than learning a little about the ministry and seeing some cute kids as well as having some time with her cousin and his family. We arrived to find ourselves presented with a detailed schedule for our next three days; we would begin on the streets, then watch these children in classes, chapel times, and counseling sessions at the children’s home, and then visit the children who had completed the program back at their rural homes with their families. 

This is how we found ourselves very unexpectedly walking through the slums of Kisumu Kenya with three Kenyan ministry leaders, picking up street kids. We would stop by a group of kids lying on the side of the road, or a couple of them would come up to us, recognizing one of the Kenyan workers. We would fist pump, having been warned to be careful not to shake hands for safety and health reasons. Then, the child or teenager would start walking along with us through the busy streets full of small business owners and markets. Many of the boys were carrying plastic water bottles with addictive shoe glue in the bottom of the bottle. Their eyes were glazed over and their steps unsteady. As we walked, a few wandered off, but we ended up with a group of 15 or so sitting with us in a park, listening as the Kenyan leaders began praying and sharing a Bible story with the boys. Some of the boys were nearly men. Others looked like 7 or 8, although we were told they were probably older than they looked. As we walked, I was trying to imagine what was going on in these boys' hearts and minds. Were they afraid? What did they feel when the numb feeling the glue gave them wore off, and their emotional pain and physical hunger rushed back in like a flood. They had run from pain into the deeper pain of their own poor solutions to their problems. I could sense what God must feel for these boys and how much he must hurt over every wrong done to them and how much he must long to comfort them when they scream out in fear in the night.

At one point, we were asked to share something - our testimony, a word of encouragement, a prayer. We looked at each other warily. What do you say to boys who are sleeping on the streets, who have run away from home because of bad relationships with their family? What do you say to children who you know are being abused, who are eating trash, who might currently be suffering from disease? As those privileged with warm beds, plenty of food, and safe families, what can we possibly say that would make sense to these boys? Somehow, we shared a few words about the hope in Jesus and how we all feel alone at times, but he is there with us and knows everything we are going through. 

After our meager words and a powerful, genuine Bible teaching from the Kenyan staff, we closed with a prayer, and the boys began to disperse again to the streets. One of the staff drew our attention to one tiny boy who had been sitting at the back of the group with her. She quietly shared that he was new to the streets, and she wanted us to pull him aside and see if he would come with us now to receive help. With hardly any conversation between them, the staff quietly gathered around the boy. I don’t know exactly what they shared with him, but very soon we were all standing up, and he was shyly following us out of the park. 

It was all I could do not to break down into tears right there. This boy was so small and quiet. The staff shared that he had come from Mombasa, a city nearly ten hours drive away. I imagined this boy hitching rides all the way across Kenya, running away from abuse possibly or simply searching for a better, easier life. And he found himself taken in by a group of boys with their own system of taking care of each other, encouraging each other in glue addiction and other forms of pleasure and forgetting. Before he was enveloped into this destructive group, he was delivered into the hands of this wise, loving ministry. As we quietly led him back to the home, I was overwhelmed by the picture of redemption. I looked down at him and smiled, and he was so clearly biting back his smile, afraid to let his feelings show or maybe not sure yet whether he should be happy. A day later, in clean clothes, playing with the other children at the home, he boldly smiled back at us.

Watching this boy get discovered and rescued reminded me of how God sees each and every one of these street children and each and every one of us. This boy was lost in the crowd, on his own, detached from those who should protect him. God saw him. God intervened through the Kenyan staff who noticed him and took him into their care. This boy is so precious to God, his heavenly father. It reminds me of Matthews 10:29-31, where Jesus says, “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.” It’s hard to understand why he would allow some of these children to exist in the circumstances they are forced to endure, but no runaway or lost child is hidden from Him. For us who are privileged in many ways, we can still sometimes feel like our own lives are impossibly difficult and frustrating, and we wonder if God cares or if he even notices. No matter how small or large our problems, no matter the doubts and worries in our hearts, all of our thoughts and circumstances are laid out before God. He sees. He knows. He comforts. He rescues.

And the most beautiful part of all is getting to watch as he brings people of vastly different life circumstances together (such as ourselves and these precious boys and the Kenyan staff) and uses them to bless each other. Jesus never stood from afar and sent gifts through other people to those in need. He stopped and touched the blind man. He sat with the woman at the well. He let the lepers approach him. If we have any privileges in him, both earthly blessings of wealth and spiritual blessings of salvation, we have been given them so that we can share, and not just share from afar, but enter into the worlds of those less fortunate then us. As we kneel down and listen to their stories, as we see their pain, as we experience incredible redemption in their lives, we are dramatically changed. Jesus says in Matthew 25:40, "Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me." When I met these boys, I encountered Jesus. His presence was so apparent to me in this experience, and I pray for similar encounters with Jesus for all of my friends. May we all be willing to sit down in the mud and enter deeply into the suffering of others, looking outside of our comfort zones and not passively throwing money at a good cause. God graciously gave me this opportunity to see him face to face through the "least of these" on the streets in Kenya, and I am praying that he graciously gives me and you more of these amazing opportunities.

For more information about this ministry, check out their website: http://agapechildren.org