A Story of Suffering in La Ceiba

           As we rolled down the bumpy road in Lisa’s silver truck, I had no idea what to expect. What would a day at the dump in Honduras look like? When we pulled in, it seemed like there were babies and children running around everywhere. Trash and sewage flowed down the rain soaked streets. We started up the steep hill to meet Lisa’s friend Dan. Dan found himself in a very precarious situation. Lisa has known him since he was little and now, as a seventeen-year-old man, he is enveloped in a life of drugs. He has finally come to a place of desperation and recognizes his need for help.

            As we pulled up to a small locked building, we huddled under a tin roof for protection from the rain coming down harder and harder. At first glance, I could immediately tell Dan had a hard and sad life. His ratty clothes were covered in dirt. His baggy jean shorts had big rips in them. His hand had an infected cut there was just something in his red, puffy eyes that screamed out with helplessness and fear.

            In between coughs, Dan talked quickly and desperately to Lisa in Spanish. Lisa turned to Will and I to explain that he feared for his life. Three children had been murdered in the dump in the last few weeks. Dan and his older brother were supposed to be next. They had stolen things from a scrap yard with the other kids that had been killed. Just two nights prior to our conversation, he saw the man murder one of the boys with a machete. The boy had fallen at his feet with the echoing threat that his life would be next.

            “What is life like for this boy of only seventeen?” I wondered. The look of pain on his face was enough to make my heart ache without even understanding the words he was speaking. What must his life, a life full of greed, drugs, sickness, revenge, and fear be like? I felt the darkness cover my heart like a veil. Pain began to well up in my chest. I allowed myself to wallow in the sadness of it all.

           

            We left Dan with the promise that Lisa would look into rehabilitation centers and see what she could do to get him out of there. We headed towards the truck and I knew with certainty that our next destination wouldn’t be any easier. We drove through the trash filled streets past shacks all huddled together between winding streets and alleyways. Children seemed to appear from every crevice of the place. They squealed with delight as they saw our truck roll by. Every time I looked back at the tailgate it seemed like more and more children had jumped on!

            Trudging through the mud and dodging stray dogs, we stopped to give one family flip-flops and to clean and bandage a wound on a small boys leg. These people didn’t even have access to Neosporin or Band-Aids. Small wounds and little coughs quickly grew into big problems at the dump.

            As the truck slowly pulled to a stop, we jumped out and entered a small, dark home. We sat down on the couch face to face with a broken hearted woman and her boyfriend. Zoey lost her eight-year-old son about 8 days before we arrived to hydrocephalus. According to what others told me, Kevin’s head had grown unbearably large in his last days. Amazingly, many people in the dump had all pooled the small bits and pieces of their money together to raise funds for him to have surgery at the hospital. Kevin had undergone several surgeries, but in the end, they weren’t enough to keep his heart beating.

            In that small, dark room, I listened to the cries of a desperately heartbroken woman wailing for her lost son. Zoey wailed in Spanish, “How could this happen?” “How could God do this? I thought he would heal him!” As her youngest son clung to her leg, she cried, “How can I go on?” Her eyes seemed too heavy and covered with pain for me to look into them.

            Her questions echoed over and over again in my mind. “Why did God allow this to happen?” “Why didn’t He choose to show His power to the dump by saving and healing this boy?” “Why must these people live in such painful darkness all of their lives?”

            Then I began to think about the friends and family I have suffering from depression, anxiety, loneliness, cancer, and sickness. Is life just full of suffering? Is that what my life will hold? “How is it possible to live in the midst of a painfully sinful and broken world?” I wondered.

           

            I knew this was an important moment. One of those moments where you see if all of the theology floating around in your brain and if all the Scripture you’ve read really is true and trustworthy. Is God really good in the midst of all of this?

I’m thankful to say that in His goodness, God has reminded me of His character not only in that moment, but also in the weeks to come. There have been moments of darkness, anxiety, and sadness; but there have also been brilliant moments of light and insight into the beauty of our God’s character. Check back soon to read how the Lord has been revealing Himself to me in new ways and answering some of the questions rolling around in my mind...