- Psalm 34: 5
I want to share with you one of my most precious memories.
It is the day I learned heaven rejoices at the sound of a child’s laughter.
It was during my first trip to the Middle East. We were in Egypt for 10 days, mainly visiting
friends in Alexandria, but we decided to tag a couple of days in Cairo to the
end of our trip. On this particular day, we made plans to visit Cairo’s Garbage
City. I wasn’t feeling well, but this
place had captured my interest more strongly than the pyramids, so I gathered
my strength and joined my friends for what would prove to be a memorable
day.
Although our goal was to hang out with the locals, we
started our day as tourists. A friend took us to the Cave Church that Garbage
City is known for, Sama’ans Church, which lies at the base of a mountain said
to have been moved by faith in the 10th century. The mountain came first, then the Zabbaleen
(Garbage Collectors). While it was nice
to visit the Sama’ans Church and learn the history of the mountain, our purpose
in going was to meet the people, but we were running out of time. And yet, we
soon discovered time wasn’t an issue at all.
Earlier that day, our friend offered to spend the morning
showing us Garbage City, after which he would return to work for the day. Morning quickly became afternoon and we
headed back through the village and into the heart of Cairo, but we weren’t
finished. As we drove past the Zabbaleen, we knew we had to stop. We convinced
our friend to give us 5 minutes and then climbed out the car, 1 Egyptian and 5
foreigners. We were a sight to behold for more reasons than one. We drew a crowd, not simply
because we were a group of foreigners, but also because we began to pray for
the sick and injured and they were healed. People came from their houses
dragging their kids and other family members to receive prayer. Some were sick
and others just wanted a blessing. The faith of the Zabbaleen to receive a gift
from God was strong, and it was evident that they wanted the good gifts our
Heavenly Father had to offer.
As I stood among the crowd, I felt a tug at my shirt. Looking
down, there was a small boy with a pained expression on his face. I knew he
needed prayer, but I wasn’t sure what for. He didn’t speak English and I didn’t
have a translator, but he pointed to his finger. So I prayed and asked the Holy
Spirit to heal the need though I was ignorant of the exact condition. After a
few seconds, I understood that his finger was broken and he was unable to bend
it. I gently rubbed my finger across his and prayed for healing. Seconds later,
I made a bending motion with my hand to encourage him to try to bend his
finger. He shook his head. I prayed a little while longer and repeated the
gesture. Again, he shook his head. I prayed again and waited for direction from
the Holy Spirit. Then once again, I opened and closed my hand and gestured for
him to do the same. This time, he repeated the motion with no problem. When he saw that his finger was healed, his
face lit up. Following each miracle, we pointed to the sky and said Jesus in
Arabic, then praised Him. Before I could do this, the little boy took off
running after a truck. As he ran, the sound of his laughter flowed to my ears
and filled my heart. I watched him jump on the back of the truck and foolishly
warned him to be careful. He was a boy, and his joy had returned.
In that moment, as his laughter filled the air, I noticed
something shift around us. The day was brighter and light seemed to fill the village. I lost awareness of the garbage piled up in the streets and turned my
gaze from the sky to the faces of the people. It was like the heavens had
opened and the Father was smiling down on us, and in response, hoped filled all
of our hearts as we stood in the streets. Our countenances changed, and I felt
heaven rejoice.
As we left that day, I was amazed, not just at God’s awesome
power, but at the hearts of the people. The city was founded on a miracle, and
the faith of the Zabbaleen is an example of how faith begets faith. They are a
people familiar with miracles, but still hungry for a touch of God. When I
think of the Zabbaleen, I remember the joy among the garbage; I remember how they
welcomed us into their homes; I remember the beauty of their hearts and that
they are precious in the Father’s eyes. They live among the garbage and God is
restoring their hope for something more. And as their hope is being restored, I
pray that their hunger would continue to grow as their eyes shift from God’s
hand to His heart.
