My Snapshot of the Zabbaleen: A Tribute to Cairo's Garbage Collectors

"They looked to Him and were radiant, and their faces were not ashamed."

- 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 10^th 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.

Despair or Holiness

I am broken
This place of pain is a fork in the road
Two paths lie before me
One towards despair and the other to holiness
But what shall I choose?

Oh Sovereign God, You have brought me here
Pain is an ally to those who desire Your likeness
The broken heart opens the way for Your presence
There is a need there like nowhere else

And in this place, I yearn for You

The road is blurred, yet Your Spirit moves
The movement is felt by the sensitive soul
Like the wind, You are here and You are there
But where should I place my foot?
And where does my first step lie?

Show me the way of truth
For I desire Your likeness

And yearn to be Your delight
Holiness is found in brokenness
And joy is the promised end to mourning.

I Love My Daddy

My daddy passed away on February 18 of this year.  I had left him a few hours earlier with my mom. Before falling asleep that morning, I read Psalm 77, a fitting Psalm for what would soon pass.  My mother ran upstairs to tell me my dad was gone.  I went to see for myself, and the paramedics arrived as I said a quick prayer over my dad.  They didn’t try to resuscitate him. He had been gone for too long. We don’t know exactly what time my dad passed, but he fell asleep with my mom sitting next to him, holding his hand. 

 

God is amazing in His love.  I retreated to my room after delivering the news to my brothers and sister.  I grabbed my bible and prayed for God’s resurrection power to be released into my dad’s body and for his soul to return.  The LORD spoke: “I hear your prayer.” The sound of His voice comforted me. I knew my dad would remain with Him. It is better this way.  At that moment, my tears finally came. Even my sobs were calm, as I repeatedly thanked the LORD. Gratitude was my deepest expression at the moment.  It wasn’t what I expected.  My dad had been sick for months, and I expected, should he die, that I would crumble and my world would fall apart.  I didn’t, and it hasn’t.  “All is well,” was the whisper I heard from the Father time and time again.  Anxiety took over my body in the place of sorrow, but His voice never faded: “All is well.”  I knew it, but my body and my soul were in two different places.  The tension had built up from the months of caring for him, but the peace that kept my soul had yet to remove the anxiety that had been growing for days.  The peace was unyielding, and within me, I felt the war of what was happening.  God held tightly as the anxiety tried to strip me of His peace. I’m not normally an anxious person, and this moment was the greatest anxiety I had ever felt. But God always wins, and His peace has kept me since the moment I learned of my dad’s passing. I know it’ll always keep me.

My dad has always held the highest place in my heart after God.  Much of who I am is a direct result of his love and care.  I did everything with the goal of pleasing him, and the best part was that I always succeeded.  He showed no disappointment in me. He corrected when necessary, but even that was done with a calm spirit and a loving heart. He was always so proud of us, not because of our achievements, but simply because we were his. His love and joy were extended to all he met. He knew no strangers.  I loved to share my daddy with everyone, because he had a way of making people feel special, as though they were the most important person in the world. I’ve watched him do it many times, and it never ceased to amaze me. I can go on and on about how awesome my daddy was while on earth. He was human, and he had flaws as we all do, but his life expressed the heart of God in ways few people can.  I know God because of my daddy. The ability to draw near to the Father, to have a personal relationship with Jesus, and to connect with Holy Spirit is the greatest gift my dad has ever given me.  It’s simply because he himself walked with God. 

Since my daddy’s passing, my expression of gratitude is the deepest emotion I feel. My daddy is gone, and it has affected me so deeply. I am grateful that I could be so deeply affected. I am grateful that I could love him the way that I do. I am grateful that he loved me the way he did.  I know my daddy was a gift to me. He had cancer, and he outlived his prognosis by 15 years. I cherished each day with him, and I gladly shared him with others, because I was confident in his love for me. I am grateful to have the time I had with him. I am grateful because I knew he was an awesome daddy, and I told him daily. Words weren’t loss between us. He knew my heart, and I knew his. I am grateful that he was mine. My heart rejoiced and continues to rejoice because I have no doubt that my daddy is with Jesus. My two favorite people are chilling together in heaven, and I have much to look forward to when my time here is finished. Until then, I’ll live out my daddy’s legacy: a true relationship with the LORD our God. 

Rejoicing in Brokenness

I am 25 years old and still very young. Yet, I have experienced many times of brokenness, as I’m sure we all have no matter the age. I have learned time and time again that brokenness isn’t a sentence to depression, but rather an opportunity to rejoice in a love that is unfailing. No matter how much pain I feel when my heart is rent, I’ve learned to give thanks to the LORD God, because He is always with me. They say misery loves company, but His word promises those who revere Jesus: the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in His wings.[1] He will bring comfort to our hearts and joy that gives new life. Because He loves us, He doesn’t remove Himself when we are miserable rather He draws near to us offering the grace to rejoice for those who take it.

Many times He doesn’t take away the brokenness, but He gives us the grace to endure it until His perfect work is finished in us. A rent heart is a blessed one for when it is broken, the contents that cause the brokenness can be poured out. Once mended, our hearts can once again be filled with the love, joy, and peace that God so longs to give His children who abide in Him. In Psalm 34:18, David prays, “The LORD is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit.” When we have broken hearts, we can be sure that God is near to us and He is our salvation. In my own brokenness, I have experienced His perseverance in loving me. In my weakness, I have experienced how He faithfully keeps me in His strength. In the depths of despair, I have seen the beauty of God. And, so I have rejoiced, because in my brokenness, I have learned that God is my everything and my life is staked in Him. Without this lesson, I would be of those perishing. But, I chose to rejoice in brokenness, and it’s a decision I will make for the rest of my life. God is good, and He will perfect my faith as long as I remain in Him, especially in brokenness.

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[1] Malachi 4:2

I Was Marked

People have told me they could not imagine me without Jesus. Not in those exact words, but you get the picture. That’s more of a testament to the transforming power of God than my own character. I praise the Lord for where He’s brought me, the wildernesses He’s led me through, the waters We’ve tread together, the mountains We’ve scaled, the valleys We’ve crossed. I praise Him for all of it. No matter how difficult or painful, joy has never left me because my Lord has never forsaken me. He can’t. It’s not in Him to do so. How have I come to this point? I do not know. But one thing I do know, I was marked. In my youth, my parents gave each of us a passage to memorize. My passage was Romans 8:28-30.

“And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose. For whom He foreknew, He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son, that He might be the firstborn among many brethren. Moreover whom He predestined, these He also called; whom He called, these He also justified, and whom He justified, these He also glorified.”

My daddy would make me recite it whenever people came over. Every time I did, this passage struck a cord in my heart. I knew life for me would be different than most, but I did not know all that it would entail. Even now, I’m still finding out how incredibly strange, yet fulfilling, life with God is. The strangeness isn’t in the deeds; it’s in the being. God asks us to be still and know that He is God. In the being, God reveals Himself to us in all His glorious mystery. In this place, the mystery is no longer mysterious. He unfolds the layers of His existence within our hearts, and we are changed. The strangeness is in the being, because in this place, the unknown is made known. I was marked for the stillness. I grew up with a plaguing dissatisfaction with all that surrounded me. My friends did not satisfy. I loved my family, but I needed more. I longed for something that seemed so unreachable. I desired with my entire being to feel what seemed intangible. I was marked. Everything around me contributed to the death of my soul, and I felt it. I knew it, but I felt helpless to change. I did not know what change looked like or what it would bring. Then, I learned the stillness in being, and my dissatisfaction waned until it was no more. I understood for what I was marked. The invisible became visible; the unknown became known. I learned the secrets in the mystery. How did I get to this place where the scales were removed and my vision became clear? God rescued me. I gave myself to His love, and He rescued me.