When we first arrived in the community a couple of weeks ago, we were told that the mayor of Danlí was coming to visit. In preparation for his visit, the city graded the road to make it easier to travel. As it’s been a rather rainy year, the road had become quite rough—to put it mildly.
However, as it turned out, the mayor never showed up. And while the road was being graded, some of the water line running through the community was damaged. Did the city dispatch workers to repair the damage? Two guesses—and your first one doesn’t count. Two weeks later, the community is still working to repair all the breaks in the system.
The following week, the city dumped a large amount of garbage from the hospital at the entrance of the landfill—this included biomedical waste, literally feet from people’s houses. That night, torrential rain fell and washed the waste down the mountain, into several homes in the community. Imagine waking up to mud and medical waste in your home. I’ve seen it, but still can’t imagine what that must be like. Unfortunately, many pleas to the city government have gone unheard. The landfill continues to be mismanaged, to the detriment of families living nearby.
In response, the community blocked the entrance to the landfill, demanding that the city clean up the contamination and repair the road. Sadly, these kinds of strikes are often the only way the community can get the government’s attention. But when this happens, it also means people are unable to work that day. For those living day by day, that’s no small sacrifice. Thankfully, the next day the city brought in the necessary equipment to move the garbage, preventing it from washing down toward the houses again.
Witnessing something like this makes you realize that the problems we face in the U.S. are not quite as challenging as what people endure here. That’s not to say there aren’t significant struggles in the U.S., but rather to give perspective. I share this not to stir pity, but to help you gain a deeper appreciation for the difficulties this community faces—and to invite your prayers on their behalf.
To be treated this way by the surrounding society, while already bearing the daily struggle of survival, is deeply wearying to the soul. Even when one learns to cope with such hardship, it can still break the spirit. My hope is that you would pray for God to bring refreshment to their hearts—that He would kindle hope where hope often feels lost.
I believe the God of heaven sees all of this, and that His heart is broken for these people—people who bear His image, just like you and me.
As we continue working on projects and providing some relief, it is becoming increasingly clear that this community needs something more: a shepherd. Someone who can live among them and care full-time for their souls. Someone who can share the truth of a God in heaven who is interested in them—the One who came to earth so that we might know “God with us.” Please pray that God would send a Honduran shepherd to this community. The people here have seen enough of pastors who care more for status and money than for souls—they desperately need someone with a deep heart for God and for people. So much is broken here.

“Who is like the LORD our God, Who is enthroned on high, Who looks far down to the heavens and the earth?
He raises the poor from the dust, He lifts the needy from the garbage heap.”
— Psalm 113:5–7

In a place where so much feels broken, this is our hope and our prayer.