During our time in Rio, we had the opportunity to visit the City of God. It's one of the more than 100 distinct favellas in Rio de Janeiro. It's also one of the more prominent ones because of the movie that was made about it several years ago of the same name.
We spent an entire day walking around with a man who pastors inside Cidade de Deus and has lived there his whole life. He was an arms dealer and drug addict for many years and had his life transformed by the gospel of Jesus. We've mentioned before the differences in the approach of the churches in these areas to issues like drug trafficking. They have standing relationships with the different cartels. They don't approve of what is going on, but they know the officials are corrupt also. So instead of directly opposing them through legal avenues (which we're told would not likely work anyways), they build relationships of trust with the drug dealers and seek to live out their faith and witness in the midst of a messy situation.
According to the pastor, this has led to much fruit in the City of God. In the past two years, as the churches have united and worked together laboring in prayer, they have seen some radical changes within. There has been some transforming within the local political structures that has helped, but there have been some dramatic conversion experiences among top cartel leaders that have really shaken things up.
A local missionary asked us to continue to intercede for them. She explained that while we were being told truth, and that much had changed, there is still a long road to go. As we sat in the house of a woman who lives in the City of God we saw a clear presentation of the paradox of life in the midst of such circumstances. She had two sons who had gotten involved in trafficking, they both attempted to get out and were shot down and killed. She expressed her hurt, and her fears that another son was heading down the same path, but she also mentioned that she couldn't be too mad because these same people provide gas, running water, and basic necessities for her that she needs to live. The murderers of her children, still seem to care more and deliver more for her daily life than the elected officials.
One final story, I had a sweet moment with Naomi in the midst of our journey through Cidade de Deus. We were heading up an elevated portion of the favella along a hill side. As is normally the case here, the most impoverished are literally marginalized to the sides of hills and mountains where dwellings are less stable and accessories such as running water and electric are less available. As I carried Naomi, hopping from stone to stone, to avoid falling into the small stream of sewage that collected from tin shacks to run straight down the pathway that these people used to leave their part of the city, she asked me about the housing. She wanted to know what the buildings that we were passing were and why it smelled like poop. I explained to her that they were peoples houses. She started to tear up and got very concerned. She said, "but Daddy, I don't want them to have to live here". I told her I didn't either. Then she said, "Daddy, when Jesus comes to fix the world, will he make these people new houses too?". I asked her what she thought. She said, "I think He will Daddy, I don't think He likes it that these people have to live here either."
