Colombian Christian Mission

COLOMBIAN CHRISTIAN MISSION
Dale and Jeanie Meade
In the jungle and prairie of Southeastern Colombia
Volume 17, Issue 12 December, 1989

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Alex, Susy, Dale, Wendy, Jeanie

CHRISTMAS

At this special time of year, Jeanie and I would like to give all of you a heart-felt greeting of Christmas cheer. We have been so blessed as we have worked with you in the missionary outreach of the church. We have had minor inconveniences, to be sure, but God has always sheltered us in His caring hands. And you have always encouraged us with your love, prayers and support. Each year at this time, we pause to take inventory and each time we realize that we have been most blessed. We have been able to live the excitement that comes from preaching the Gospel where Jesus' name had not been known. We have been thrilled as we have seen lives changed. Our own lives have been full of adventure that most can only read about in National Geographic. Yet there has always been a real sense of purpose in it all. We have been striving to make this world a better place for all. We have preached "Peace on Earth" while living in a country shattered by war.
Through it all, we have been made abundantly aware of the fact that we, as individuals and Americans, have been blessed in the most astounding of ways. We have enjoyed peace and prosperity that cannot even be conjured up in the most blissful of dreams for the majority of the people in the world. During our recent trip to Colombia, we were visiting a fishing village on the northern coast. Even though we have lived in Colombia for over 15 years now, I have never grown accustomed to the extreme poverty. My heart is torn by compassion and even guilt as I see how harsh life is for so many. The plight of the children is especially difficult for me. I know that the only difference between me and the suffered of the child of poverty is the fact that God permitted me to be born in a country where the Gospel had been preached. One home in particular struck a sensitive cord this past August. After coming home and going to KCC, I lay awake one night, pondering the meaning in all of this. One scene haunted and troubled me that night. I could not erase from my memory the sight of a poor ramshackle one room hut with a dirt floor. A curious child lay in the doorway and stared at me. The little girl's normally black hair had been bleached a brownish blond by malnutrition. She had a bloated belly and a somber face. I realized that the camera I carried probably represented more money than her dad would ever earn in an entire year. Why did I have so much, when so many had nothing. I walked over and gave her dad all of the money I had in my pocket. But I knew that what he really needed was the Gospel. For only Jesus could change the father's sin-sick heart and teach him to put his family first. Only the Gospel can heal a corrupt and violent country so that it can provide a decent living for it's citizens. The remembrance of that naked child with a bloated belly haunted me for weeks and robbed my of sleep. I realized that it was only God's grace that had given me the opportunity to grow up as a Christian. As I could not sleep, the significance of all of this began to form into verse. In the dark, one night I reached for a pencil and paper from the desk at the head of my bed. I scribbled the words that rolled over in my soul. The next morning, I found a poem written there.
At Christmas time, let us enjoy family and feast. Let's all gather to share our gifts with one another. But let us also remember to share the greatest gift of all, the Good News of the Gospel. Let us share it with friends and relatives. But let us also share it with Colombia and her children of poverty. Let us share it with the rest of the world. Let us give generously at Christmas so that fewer children will grow up in the poverty brought on by growing up in a country where Jesus is not known!


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Children of poverty

CHILDREN OF POVERTY
by Dale Meade

It was in the shabbiest part of a shanty town
Where I passed by huts all falling down
And it was there I was confronted with reality
For in a doorway stood a child of poverty
A man called truth loitered right close by
And through that naked child asked me why
I tried to say it was much more than just birth
After all, you see, I've a different worth
But then came so ever very rudely into my hear
A harsh truth that shocked my every part
As I pondered that child with belly all bloated
I know all too well in sin, I had gloated
For from that hut with only dirt for a floor
Several more naked children began to pour
I searched their gaunt faces for hints of glee
But happiness had been stolen by poverty
In those bare little bodies I was forced to see
One great truth from which I'd rather flee
They did not choose this, as their lot in life
And wanted not a poor country full of strife
But they were born right here with need so rife
Even through all their youthful innocence
They revealed to me all of life's true relevance
For now I know that what I am and all I be
Is a precious gift of God and not at all from me!