6 months I´ve lived in a new home, in a new country, amongst new people. 6 months I´ve worked alongside some of the finest people, ministering to the Street children of Colombia.

For 6 months I´ve lived life with some of the most neglected, abused, and rejected children I´ve ever met. How great of a blessing it has been. How great of a blessing it is to every day put a smile on the face of a child who lives a life opposite to mine. To have patience with them, love for them, and respect. To not flinch away at their outward filth, which is how their world reacts to them, but to embrace them with integrity and value. To tell them that they are loved, that my God has purpose for their lives; and that I, like my King, see their hearts and not their filth.

This country contrasts to any other that I´ve seen. Its biggest plague is not financial poverty, though financial poverty does rip the country. Its biggest evil is not war, famine, nor lack of basic human living requirements; though most Colombians face those issues. What I cant understand is the emotional and spiritual poverty I witness each day. A depravity so well hidden behind closed doors, so unacknowledged by the disinterested wealthy.

I´m tired of the abuse of children, the marks I keep being shown from severe whippings, and the horrific tales some of the youngest share. I´m tired of their exploitation, their parents forcing them to beg on the streets and then pocketing their child´s earnings. I´m tired of children asking me to adopt them when they already have 2 parents.

Nixon is 6, he loves to play cards. He has a gleaming smile, and he loves to sing. How can I comprehend this world when he pulls up his shirt and shows me where he has been whipped with a metal cord, his fathers drunken rages.

William is one of the brightest 5 year old I´ve ever met, but he misses about half of every school week as his parents use him to beg on the street. He is funny, active, cheeky and brave; and he is used by his parents.

I drive every morning to pick up children in a neighbourhood called Colombianita. It is called a recycling neighbourhood. Its residents make a living collecting scraps around the city that they sell to recycling companies. As we round the corner I see the children waiting patiently in front of their houses. They live in absolute filth, a community built on literal garbage piles. The morning sun refects off the houses built of scrap metal and cuts of cardboard. Sort of like a depressive lego construction of odd bits.

In eagerness they board the bus, smiles gleaming, hugs recieved, 4 toddlers dumped onto my lap. They smell of trash. Bodies caked with grime. Same t-shirt she wore all last week. Hair that crawls with lice.

I feel like the guy from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, or like a magical bus to Candy Land. We leave behind abuse, hunger, hatred, and poverty; and just for a few hours they are loved and safe. They get a hearty breakfast, and then eat seconds and thirds. We bath grime off the dirtiest, and comb out plagues of lice.

We sing songs, clap hands, learn to write numbers and letters, and draw a rainbow. We´re discussing creation this month, and all the things God created that start with the letter A.

I work through maths with some of the older children. Most of them are incredibly bright and learn concepts quickly. Didier can now do long subtraction, and Yason can mutliply up to his 6 times tables. Luke gives them English and PE lessons, and Ryan just started up some computer lessons with some old donated computers.

God demonstates faithfullness to us all daily. Often the weekly support does not arrive and we are unable to pay for food. Some of the time we pool our money together to buy lunch ingredients; but more often than not the day we run out of food some good hearted person pulls up to our front door with a carload of shopping. The timing of it is incredible, and an answer to the childrens prayers.

I shared my 28th birthday with them, and started the day being prayed for by 15 street children. One of the most special birthdays I´ve had. They cooked me a special Colombian soup, and we celebrated with ice creme in a local restaraunt.

I dont understand the country I´m in. I dont understand the pure evil I find in parts of this world. But I praise my God that he has chosen me to be light in such a dark place. I praise God with the honour I´ve been given to touch these childrens lives.

I´ll never solve Colombia, but God told me I dont need to. I dont even have to understand it. But as long as I demonstate a Godly love to the most needy, I know I´m doing the right thing.