They come and gather.
The broken, the abused, the cast aside, the desperate, the hungry- those that know their need converge longing for something more than they can see.
I watch them file in the old gates guarded by one man with a weathered face. He says he is like their Yaba, their grandfather so he deserves bread too. We are not so sure of that, but fresh bread is hardly something to withhold and the rains fall on the righteous and the unrighteous and those caught somewhere between the two.
High on glue and” solucion” expectant of what we were bringing they come with flickers of hope and generous smiles. And there were those who stand by waiting for programs and agendas.
But we are here with one agenda and one agenda alone: HIS. To bring fresh bread to the hungry. To share living bread with the dying. That we all might eat together of Him and live.
Isn’t this the real church?
No program or agenda other than heaven’s.
The broken and the hurting gathered in unlikely places to feast on fresh, hot living bread and be filled by that alone which satisfies. I sit among them. The world changers and glory carriers that sleep on roadsides and have no places to lay their heads.
I wonder. Some of His disciples were their age: Teenagers. Youth. Outcasts. Turned the WORLD upside down with love and glory and heaven. I look around me and smile. May it be yet again and may the world marvel at those who change cities and nations by the mere act of showing up.
Please pray for our precious street boys who are SONS OF THUNDER and PROMISE! We look forward to share with you all that happens as they embrace the unpaved road into God’s heart.