Just recently, Anakarina participated in a Girl Scout hike up Ancon hill, the hill just to the west of the city that gives you a great panoramic vista of the city skyline.
I love going up the hill, not only to see the city, but to pray for it.
Praying for the city
When Jesus saw the crowds, his heart broke. Matthew 9:36 reads
When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.
He had compassion on them.
To put it another way, he felt compassion for them.
I can imagine the heart of Christ that day on that hillside – pondering the injustice, the poverty, the lostness, the brokenness, the misery of human need, and their separation from God.
But also seeing not just a plural collective “them” but individuals with names, dreams, and families.
I can imagine the compassionate emotions swirling like in His heart like the foamy rapids of a river .
He felt it.
What happens when you pray for where you live and minister?
Sometimes my heart breaks with the compassion that might have been similar to what Jesus felt.
I imagine the crowds that steel skyscrapers and slum shacks on a muddy hillside represent – individuals who need Christ.
My heart breaks at times.
I imagine
- the poor who try to make a living in a gang infested neighborhood where they might be killed by accident,
- the laborers who work for minimum wage in dangerous unsafe occupations,
- the injustices committed underhandedly,
- the extortion and bribery that gets things done,
- the pickpockets who steal just to get some food.
Not just for the collective crowd, but individuals.
I think of the toothless amputee, with swollen knobby fingers on his remaining hand. He stopped me at a traffic intersection. He used his teeth to hold the clean styrofoam cup while he maneuvered his one-legged body on crutches next to my car. His swollen hand stuck that cup in my car window, begging for a donation of some kind.
I give him what I have, but drive away in tears. I wish I could do more to help.
I remember the orphan who’s parents were murdered, and who had been a victim of human trafficking.
I remember the 7 year old who murdered a shop keeper.
I remember the first hand stories of gang rape and sexual abuse.
I remember seeing people eat with bare hands out of dumpsters and torn trash bags behind restaurants.
Feel the heart of God
I weep over my city. I feel for my city. I’ve seen brokenness that I wish I had never seen.
I sometimes spontaneously pray in desperation, “Lord send me to reach them. Send me.”
I touch the heart of God.
The heart of evangelism is to connect with the heart of God.
Ask the Lord to share His heart for the city / town / rural area in which you live.
Ask the Lord to grow your sensitivity to His compassion.
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