Good afternoon senhoras e senhores,
I found myself really excited this morning as I left my apartment for Monte Horeb, a Christian School and church where I work with youth and kids two days a week. The director asked me to prepare a sermon for Father's Day which is celebrated on June 23rd here in Nicaragua. I arrived at 9 am to preach what I had put together, but no one was there. So I decided to hit the streets to find someone who would hear me.
Earlier this week I had stopped by Rubel's house to invite him to the service today. Rubel is a young man who robbed me over a year ago along with one of his friends. Since then, it has been one of my priorities to see him saved. That day I met two of his friends and fellow gang members. One of them had green eyes and the other was shirtless, showing off a tattoo of a monk that he claimed he got while under the influence. Returning to this morning, I went to talk to them to invite them to church. They said they couldn't come because the rival gang would come after them. I was saddened, but I went back to the church to give the sermon.
When I got there, the pastor had already begun to preach. He went on for two hours about Saul, and the value of obedience. I was a little irked and frustrated because I had prepared to preach, but it looked like wouldn't get to. I wondered to myself, "How can I obey God and preach if someone else took my spot?"
Then it hit me. I wasn't supposed to give that lesson to them. It came from inside as I prayed,"If they won't come to church, bring the church to them." So I waited until the end of the service, after which I went to a former martial arts student of mine and asked him how brave he felt he was. He answered in English, "Very much so." I told him to leave his wallet, house key, and phone at home because we were going to preach to the gang. He said, "Good idea." From there we walked to the edge of the barrio where the tin shacks meet the landfill on the dirt road that leads to the market.
There were about twenty of the gang members there. I stopped by Rubel's house first to see if he would come. His mom told me that he had already left. He wasn't with the gang either. So my cohort and I went up to the gang. They were all in a circle mostly shirtless, and a few wearing bandanas. One had a one-liter beer bottle he was drinking out of. Another was smoking a joint. One had gauze taped over his face to cover where he had been sliced from cheek to chin. Another had his left hand and forearm bandaged up. This was one of the gangs that stopped the youth service I ran two months ago. I looked at them and thought, "Okay God. I'm here please watch over us as we do this."
I greeted them and asked them if we could share a brief word from the Bible with them. They all stopped talking. I repeated the question. The guy in the middle said, "Okay." So I opened as if I would have with the others. I talked about Father's Day and its importance. I told them that I wanted to talk about bears, promises, dads, and heaven. I like to open my sermons like this with seemingly unrelated talking points to keep there interest. I want them to ask themselves how they will be connected, that way they are more likely to pay attention.
I started with bear hugs. My dad used to give me huge hugs. They made me feel secure. That is part of a father's job is to provide security for his children. But not all children get that security. I asked how many of them grew up without a father. Most hands went up. The guy in the middle raised both of his hands. I then told them the story of another former student who didn't sleep at night because he always heard his dad beating his mom. They all went silent. One started to talk and was quickly hushed by the others. At this time, I watched Rubel walk up and join the circle. I went to Ephesians 6, where Paul reittirates the commandment to honor your father and mother, and in doing so you will live long on the earth. It was the first commandment with a promise.
I then asked them, "How do you honor a father who mistreats or abuses you, or who was never there?" I looked at a bunch of puzzled faces. "You pray for them. They may have big problems, but if you don't leave that in God's hands, you risk becoming a victim to the same feelings that cause their awful behavior. Also remember that it is because of them that you are even alive, so there is reason to honor them for that." I told them that some day each one of them would be a father, and no one wants to repeat the mistakes of their own parents. Change begins with acknowledgement and forgiveness. If they were going to be good dads they needed to acknowledge their mistakes and forgive those who wronged them. Wounded hearts look to wound others.
Afterwards I spoke about the promise of long life, the importance of obedience and how it leads to eternal life in heaven. They all told me their names or their nicknames at least( "the Gargoyle", "the Resident of 13th St."), we shook hands, and we all agreed to meet again next week. I introduced my old student, and asked him if he wanted to share a word or a story. He declined.
We left and as we walked back to the church, he said he felt like his testimony was too different from what the others had lived. He grew up in church. They grew up in the street. There is something important in this. The power of a testimony isn't only that it can connect people who have been through similar experiences, but rather it can also inspire someone to strive to live a different life. I see a leader in him and hope in the gang. Please pray for them.
"Where two or three of you are gathered together, there am I in the midst of you." - Matthew 18:20
Modimo ao gaugele e Modimo wa go rata.
Seth
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