"break my heart..."

"...for what breaks Yours."

That was the prayer I came into this trip with.
That was my prayer before I even started this trip.

I probably had no idea what I was getting into.

I think I always felt like a little bit of a failure or flawed, I guess, as a Christian or insincere as a supposedly 'good person.' Insincere that...when I saw those pictures of people living in poverty and close ups of children living in rags and starvation, I felt like I almost had to will or put in an extra slight effort to feel something. Sympathy, sure, a sense of injustice, of course--all of these came easy enough. But so mildly...and almost scripted. These were what I was supposed to feel. So I felt them.

I struggled, realizing how much my heart had closed up to feeling for social justice. I reacted, and felt negatively about it--I even went as far as trying to sponsor a child with my roommate before, but even that eventually fell into routine before falling through completely. As sad as I did sincerely feel over poverty and and injustice, it still wasn't a passion.

It felt terrible to admit that distance, that aloofness, apathy, or lack of personal pain for the strangers I saw hurting in these pictures. I knew it wasn't right, I knew I should hurt--and a good part of me did--but for the most part...I felt acceptance.

I grew up in Philippines, something that I don't give enough credit to acknowledge as a part of something that builds my character and personality now. Even if it was only the first eight years of my life, I did witness poverty. I witnessed injustice, I witnessed pain, I witnessed inequality. But being raised in that environment made all these things just..part of the picture. Some people had more, some people had less. And I came to accept it as that.

I had seen all the pictures before
passed by them, in person

I had heard the stories that happened
from people that people i knew had personally known

Whether it was media, environment, or general knowledge or overhearing what the grown ups around me had talked about when I was a child

These things just...happened.

This summer, God gave me the opportunity
to meet the people, most innocent,
that it happened to.

I know I'm not the best writer.

I ramble, go on tangents, and my grammar points are probably at a negative..But it isn't about what I have to say. For those who supported this trip, knew people involved, were part of it or in anyway involved..or for anyone whose prayed this prayer before, and for myself, who had no idea what the weight of this prayer could really mean..

It's never been about what I have to say.

Just..another person..

"For God so loved the world..."

trying to figure out..

"..that He gave.."

what was said

"his one and only Son"

and hoping

"that whoever believes in Him"

not to forget

"shall not perish"

the words

"but shall have eternal life."

that were spoken.

Only then can I ever hope to figure anything out.
Only then can anything ever hope to even vaguely, remotely, desperately, try to make sense.