Eyes Wide Open

For many of us the suffering of others around the world can be overwhelming. Sometimes, it seems easier to turn our eyes away from disturbing stories of rape, incest, murder, starvation, slavery and genocide. The Eyes Wide Open series exposes these overwhelming issues in a real and raw format.

Ephesians 1:8 says this, “I pray also that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you…” Many times we read that scripture and we think that it’s all about “us”.

Our life.

Our call.

We can tend to read the scriptures with a centric focus, and think that it’s all about “me”. But what about the person whose only hope is that you know your call? Think of the child, who’s sold into a life of prostitution and slavery and their only hope is that someone would come and rescue them. The child dying of starvation… your life may be their only hope.

Below is an excerpt from one of Christa Baca’s journal entries from the 2008 Mystery Trip. May it inspire you to open your eyes.

Sweat trickled down my neck as the hot Phillipino sun slipped over the horizon. Sunlight streamed through the slats of the jailhouse bars we were ministering in. The prison guards leaned against the cement walls, their eyes glued to the person who was sharing the gospel message. Behind me, two dozen or so inmates were locked in a cell, their heads careening around the bars, solely transfixed on listening to this message of hope. An invitation for prayer was given and a dozen or so inmates hands reached through the metal bars, beckoning our team for prayer.

I stood and quickly glanced at the inmates faces. Their heads were bowed in prayer, eyes tightly closed and tears streamed down some of their faces. It seemed as though God was there in the midst of this dark place- moving in the hearts of these people. My eyes caught two ladies sitting on a table with their children. I walked over to say hello. We talked for a moment about simple things, how old there children were, and who they were visiting at the jail. Then I felt a gentle tugging in my heart that one of the women, Apo was her name, needed a message of hope and so I leaned over and said, “God has not forgotten you.”

Her eyes filled with tears and she began to weep, deep uncontrollable sobs. I hugged her and after a few minutes she began to share her story with me. “I am a good person. My husband is in jail here. We are poor. He stole a car battery so that he could sell it to buy us food.” She said, “Now, I have no way to care for my child. My baby and I have been sleeping in the back of a bus. We have no food. Yesterday, a man asked me if I would sell my daughter to him. I said no.” She began to weep uncontrollably as she rocked back and forth protectively holding her newborn child to her chest, “I cannot sell my daughter! What would happen to her? Whose would she be?”

I reached across the table and took her hand in mine. My eyes brimmed with tears and my heart filled with empathy, for I knew what she was implying in selling her daughter. I had seen first hand, little children sold into a life of unthinkable heartache. Many of these children are traded like cattle as sex slaves or servants, beaten and abused. One cannot imagine the perversion that is part of these children’s daily existence. As a teen, on a mission trip in South East Asia, I had watched little children some as young as five or six years old, proposition men for sex in dark corners of the night. I had seen the look of terror flash through their eyes as their pimps looked on. I watched in horror as they were spit on, cursed at, and swatted with newspapers by their disapproving countrymen. I knew what Apo was facing that day, and yet I could not imagine what it would be like to be in her shoes. And then she looked up at me and whispered something I will never forget. She said, ” If I sold my daughter… at least she would have food.”

To be in such a dire situation! To know that if left in your care, your child will certainly die of starvation and to think that it might be a better option for your child to be sold as a slave. We were able to help Apo and her daughter that day. We put her in contact with a church who was able to get her a place to stay and we gave her money for food. That evening, as I walked with our team, I saw the streets lined with people covering themselves with tarps and cardboard boxes to sleep in. Children looking up at me, curled on a ripped piece of cardboard for the night, the side of the road their only home. Tiny hands etched with dirt, arms extended, fingers curled. “Please ma’am, we are hungry.” Down the road we walked, as dozens of hands reached out, their hands and faces blurred by my tears. This mass of humanity steeped in poverty. I wondered what their stories were.

The enormity of it all sets in: one street, in one city, in one country, on one continent. And yet, around the world there are millions of others who are facing the same situation. How did they end up here? Living like this? And how have I become so blind to seeing how much I have been blessed with?

“I pray also that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you…” Eph. 1:8

May you open your eyes today and see the world around you, and know that your life can make a difference. Don’t close your eyes to the pain and suffering of those around you. Reach out… and change the world… one life at a time.