Orice Ajuta — Anything Helps

This is my third squad and my second training camp and this is a story recounting my experience at my very first market place scenario. In the morning, the alumni racers were prompted to volunteer for roles in the scenario and I chose to be a beggar. I wasn’t too fond of the idea of putting on the persona of a beggar, but went on with it anyway. 

My friend Ari has an extensive background in production, so she blacked my eye with some makeup and I rummaged through the costume box to find something to wear over my own clothes. When I’d successfully cloaked the reality that I’m not a beggar, I wandered out to the scene and began to mentally roll through the faces of every person that I’ve encountered on the street in the last two years. I was saddened when I realized that I was about to put on their lifestyle as my own for less than an hour and then I’d be able to take it right back off, eat a hot meal that the kitchen had set aside for me, and later on I’d be sleeping in my {mostly} dry tent. 

Though I surely anticipated that this experience would be a rather impactful one, I did not expect such a radical shift in my perspective, but that’s exactly what I got. I was rocked and there’s no going back for me. 

I’ve chosen to recall this encounter in a way that feels more like a short story because that felt most appropriate to me, so I hope that you can appreciate this experience as much as me.. 

For context: Training Camp for the World Race exists to train racers for the most extreme cases of situations that they’ll encounter on the field and the marketplace scenario is one of those. There’s some dramatic effect that’s added in from the Alumni Racers who are acting in an attempt to effectively and accurately prepare our squads for what’s ahead of them. I was not physically hurt and have processed my emotional pain with the Lord and have found healing. 🙂

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As the Americans poured into the market, I felt hope rise. They came in with their groovy new shoes and I looked down at my dusty bare feet. Their backpacks overflowed in abundance with gadgets and all I had was this whistle that I’d picked up behind a police officer. I saw them stop at the currency exchange booth and leave with hefty stacks of cash and my stomach growled.

Surely they’d see my sign and understand that I mean it when I say “Orice Ajuta – Anything Helps.” 

They came closer and my eyes started to burn and tears fell as I began to take hold of the possibility that I might get to eat today. In an effort to ensure that I wouldn’t miss out on this opportunity, I approached them with enthusiasm and hope was lost. I was on the ground. 

One of the young boys, tall, with dirty blonde hair raised his hand at me. Maybe I overreacted at his best attempt to communicate with me since we don’t speak the same language, but I was afraid because of what happened to me a few days ago. He moved fast and I couldn’t take any chances. I’ll just move on. I’ll find someone else.

It’s not unusual for the tourists to mistreat the beggars on the streets, especially me, but the ones with the big backpacks have always been nice. They’ve never let me down. But today was different… A girl brushed past me and we made eye contact before she said to her friend, “He smells so bad.” Soon after, one of the tourists pushed me down into the crowd and they circled around me. A few of them looked concerned. Some of them laughed. A number of them even pulled out their cameras to record me as I crawled away. 

I was crying again, but this time wasn’t because I was excited or hopeful. I guess I was wrong. There’s no chance that I’ll get to eat today. 

Recognizing that I might not get any help from the big backpacks, I wandered over to a vendor from Latin America. She didn’t speak my language, but she was generous enough to give me a scoop of rice before shooing me away. 

Earlier I’d noticed that the woman with the baby wasn’t having any luck either, so I quickly found her to share some of my portion with her. Another vendor gave me some fruit, but I gave it away to the two girls that were speaking Spanish. I wonder how they ended up here. 

The taxi van almost ran us over too many times to count today. They don’t value our lives. 

The almost best part of my day was when one of the girls, the one with the colorful backpack, stopped to ask me if I spoke English. I was too excited to process the miniscule amount of English that I know so I continued to spit the same phrase, “Anything helps.” When she realized that I was having a hard time, she told me that she wished she could talk to me, but she didn’t speak my language and she walked away. I managed to mutter the words, “May Allah bless you” before she was gone, but I will practice my English more so that this never happens again. 

The market was beginning to clear out and the big backpacks were leaving. I guess their bus would be departing soon. So I hobbled over to the exit to make sure that they had one more chance to help me. The last group lingered for a while wondering what they could offer to me, but soon started to walk away. The tall boy yelled back to me and invited me to their table for dinner. 

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This felt heavier than any other scenario that I’ve ever been a part of. I cried real tears when no one would help me because I was remembering all of the people that I’ve just walked by, avoiding eye contact, in markets or on sidewalks throughout the course of my life. Oftentimes I don’t have much to offer because I’m fundraising, but after this experience, I think they mean it when they say that anything helps. In this scenario, I truly just wanted someone to stop and pray for me or try to share some good news with me. I’m lucky to have the knowledge of Jesus and understanding that they were missionaries. Which the people on the street don’t always have. 

In the last week of being on the field, I’ve found it nearly impossible for me to walk by someone on the street without stopping to ask their name and how I can pray for them. We’re even learning that some of them just want a listening ear. It’s an honor to sit with them and hear their stories, truly, but we’d fail our new friends if we never extended them an opportunity to hear the Gospel. If we don’t tell them, who will and if not now, then when? 

{Begin Sidebar} “Repent for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand.” Is what John the Baptist was preaching with urgency in Matthew 3 and if these folks never hear of their need to repent, they’ll never experience the fullness of the Kingdom of Heaven. This Kingdom is only available to those who repent and can you believe that there are people in countries that we’d consider “reached” that have never heard or understood that? They deserve the opportunity to hear this news just as much as I ever did. The message is still urgent, so let’s get to it… {Sidebar complete}

As we went on and on in the experience, I felt the enemy making a real life attack on my identity. Specifically, I felt as though he was making connections between my experience as a beggar and my real life experience as a support raising missionary. I know that’s not true, but sometimes I forget that I’m not a beggar wandering aimlessly in the streets just hoping that someone will kindly drop a coin into my bucket. I’m grateful to know that God has called me to this and will be faithful to provide what’s required to complete the task. 

That being said, here’s my ask: I’ve been on the field with P Squad for a week now and it’s even more evident to me that this is exactly the place that God wants me to be. SO, are you interested in being a part of what God is doing in the earth? I’m gonna bet that we can raise $1,000 by the end of September. That’ll move my fundraising bar to $2600 and I’ll be over halfway funded! 

If you can’t donate, I understand and would LOVE for you to partner with me in prayer? Would you ask your church if they’re interested in offering either financial or prayer support to me and my squad? Would you also share the link to this blog so that as many people as possible can be connected to what God’s doing through us? 

Feel free to reach out to me with any thoughts, prophetic words, memes, or questions. My whatsapp number is +1 (601) 270-2815. 

Thanks so much for how you’ve loved and supported me this far. 

I love you, 

AWM