Dear Friends,

Nestor’s been living on my block for at least as long as I have. I first became aware of his presence about three years ago when he came to me needing a place to keep his things. You see, Nestor lives on the street and has no safe place for his belongings. Not knowing the “right thing” to do in this situation, I said okay. You could say that from the beginning, our relationship has had its challenges.

Nestor’s been living on the streets for much of his life and has fallen into the category of “huelepega” or glue sniffer. Nestor is one of the unfortunate many here in Managua who have been abandoned by their families for economic reasons and left to fend for themselves. There are an estimated 40 million street children in Latin America, half of whom sniff glue. (Three-quarters of the “street children” have some family ties, the rest live the whole lives in the street.) Sniffing glue offers them an escape from the reality of life on the streets, taking away their hunger and despair. It also gives them the “courage” to steal in order to survive. However, the toxins in glue are highly addictive, extremely dangerous and can even be fatal.

Knowing Nestor’s addiction, the challenge for me has been how to relate to him. On and off I’ve employed him as my night watchman, something most neighborhoods need because of the increasing crime in Managua. I want to empower him, but if he’s spending his income on glue am I really helping him? And is it responsible of me to have a known drug addict watching my house? I’ve tried to find other jobs for Nestor. Sometimes he washes my car or walks my dog.

Life on the street is hard. At 18 Nestor has been through more than I can imagine. Some of the stories he tells me are hard to believe. How can it be that as I sleep safely and soundly in my bed, while just a half a block away Nestor is being whacked with the handle of a machete? The next day I notice his watch is missing and I ask what happened. He tells me and I don’t want to believe it. But then I see the wounds. I don’t like admitting it, but after three years in Nicaragua, I’m not surprised. I’ve been desensitized—not so much so that I don’t care, but that I don’t get mad. What can I do?

Every day the injustices of systems and structures in the world are evident. We explore these issues with the church-groups that we as CEPAD host here in Nicaragua. I’m driven by my belief in Christ and his teaching of a radical way of life. Christ’s message of transforming society so that all are welcome at the table sounds so much better than merely giving our crumbs to the poor. I get excited and passionate about God’s promise of the Kingdom. I see a social message in the gospel and I want everyone to join in the transformation. It is overwhelming and leads to great frustration, but it is where my conviction lies. The message of personal salvation is often times lost to me.

Nestor reminded me the other day that I need to make space for God to work in my personal life as well. I’d been out of town for a couple weeks and hadn’t seen Nestor in awhile. He received me with such joy, so excited to tell me that he was clean. He hadn’t sniffed glue in over two weeks. It was wonderful news, but I didn’t want to get too hopeful. He’s stopped sniffing before, stays off for a couple weeks, maybe a month or so, but something bad happens, he gets in a fight with someone, or is just hungry and has nothing to eat, and unfortunately can easily find comfort again in drugs. So I was cautious, but this time it felt different. A couple weeks later, with Nestor still clean, I asked him why he quit this time. With a great smile shared with me his testimony.

A family on our block had invited him to go to church with them. Bored, high on glue, and with apparently nothing better to do, he decided to join them. As it often is in the Pentecostal churches here, there was much joy and singing during the service, and emotions were high. At one point Nestor was invited to come forward and let the congregation pray for him. Moved by the message, Nestor felt called to go forward and be prayed for. During that prayer, Nestor had a powerful experience. The intensity of it was so great that he had to leave the building. When he got outside he vomited. After that moment, Nestor felt nothing but joy and happiness in finding refuge in the church and rejoined the worship service a different person. That joy exuded from him as he told to me this story. He sang the songs he learned and shared with me his excitement about being able to participate in worshipping God in community.

Nestor had a conversion experience, and it is evident that God is working in Nestor. It has now been about six months since that night, and he is still drug-free. Through Nestor, I see God sending me a powerful reminder to include God in my faith equation. God has the power to transform not just societies but also individual lives. We are God’s hands and need to struggle for peace and justice, to make the kingdom a reality. But I can’t do it alone. We can’t do it alone. We need God. I need God.

I’ve always struggled with finding a balance between a social gospel and a message of personal salvation. It has been through Nestor’s testimony that I am reminded that faith needs to be a balancing act. Both aspects are evident in Jesus’ preaching, and both aspects need to be present in our living out of the gospel. Let’s give thanks together that I see the powerful work of God in a struggle for social justice. Pray with me that I remember to make space for God to work personally in my life, like God has for people like Nestor—in ways that I never could, ways that make lasting life changes.

Blessings and peace,

Tracey

The 2001 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p. 251