Life on the Edge

  My friends Ronae and Chrs wanted to visit the slums of Buenos Aires.  They were kind of determined to go but had run into some dificulties because Argentines don´t do that kind of thing.  Of course, I said I would help them.  We knew it was dangerous because everyone said it was.  But, we were not detered.  Taking my advice, Ronae asked a friend from church what if perhaps he could help us.  Within a few days, we had a date to go the most dangerous slum (villa in Spanish) of Buenos Aires.
   The guy we asked has a been a pastor/missionary for many years, and I figured that he would have some contact or something on the inside.  When we met up with him, we found out that he had never darkened the inside of the slums.  (Insert comforting feelings.)  So he asked around about the safety of this area, and a polieman told him, "It´s your [censored]"  (That was encouraging...).
  So, we had one Latin American and 5 Yankees taking a merry trip to one of the most dangerous places in Buenos Aires, don´t worry, we left our valuables at home.  Originally, we weren´t going to go in, just walk around the edges, but, as usual, curiousity prevails.
   We were on the outskirts of the villa, and our friend asked a man walking by if he knew about a church anywhere.  This guy lead us to the church several blocks away. I was amazed by the beauty of the church on the inside.  Outside was the slums, but on the inside was a really nice space: new tile on the floor, projectors, laptops, instruments, and sound systems.  Granted, the other half the auditorium was not finished and still had a dirt floor, but the half that was done looked great.  The people were very nice and told us that they recieved no government help, and that the building was built and paid for by the people of the church, little by little.  They invited us to the prayer meeting that night, but we were not going to stick around until dark.  (We may be dumb enough to go to the slums, but we had no intention of being there without our friend the daylight). 
  We continued a little ways to a big open area.  It was a paved soccer court where about 16 or so guys were playing soccer.  Of course, they all had some kind of jersey, I saw a Barcelona one, and there were other European teams represented.  There were also a few volleyball nets with people playing.  It was as if we were in world inside the world.  This community seemed to have nothing to do with the train station 1/4 mile away, or highway only 70 feet above us. 
   The little house stacked on top of each other, each person with their own life.  It was charming, in its own little way.  People selling grilled meat on the street, occasional cars trying to get through the on the narrow street.  Most people think I´m crazy when I give this description, and maybe I just wear rose-colored glasses.  But, I just get tired of people talking so terribly about these places, not to mention the judgemental attitude toward me, when I tell them were I went.  A lot of believers forget that there are real people there with real needs for Christ.  All they is a place where two squard cars have to accompany an ambulance in an emergency.  I´m not trying to judge, but don´t think that I´m not tempted.
  Don´t take this the wrong way, I´m not trying to minimize the danger or the reality of life. But sometimes, as believers; I think that we need to let that stuff go in order to focus on what really matters.