I remember the child-like faith I had when I was ten. I believed God was good, and all that I didn't understand was easily laid at his feet. Burning questions I saw adults murmur made little sense to me. Yelling "why" at God seemed sacrilegious to my young mind, at the very least pointless. I relied on the thought that when I got older my questions would be answered, my confusion would untangle.

But it hasn't. Those questions burn so much deeper now. The 'whys' I used to consider pointless now sit at my tongue. Why?

I keep shifting worlds. Maybe that's what's messing up my mind so much. Would I trade the memories that are haunting my mind for the naive mindset I enjoyed 5 years ago? Maybe. Not sure.

Two months ago I entered the world of wealthy American kids. Smiles, carelessness, bliss. A place I think the world should be. Safe, positive, fun. I get to work with kids who I know are okay. I'll send them home after camp and they'll do well. They're educated, fed, warm and loved. What more? They're not abused, not shot at, not starving, and not sleeping in gutters.

Its taken all I've got not to judge. Not to feel anger and hatred, not to break down in a depressive mess. The 'why' that lies at the back of my mind is forced there in fear of me having to address it.

I'm not anti-American. I'm not anti-wealth or anti-Western World.

But I don't understand why a child I work with in America can be brought into such privilege when so many millions are brought up into such distress. I'm working with 300 kids in North Carolina right now. They're all sporty, healthy, well educated, good looking, charismatic, wealthy, and talented. Next Presidents, lawyers, doctors, sports stars.

The Colombian kids I work with are smelly, dirty, uneducated, outcast, sickly and impoverished. Next thieves, beggars, housekeepers. Hope that offends you as much as it does me.

I do trust in God's control. I know his plans are infinitely wiser than mine, infinitely better. I'm sure I'm not called to save the world, I'm just called to do my part. Those questions I can still lay at his feet, even though the questions are now a little more refined.

I've learned something cool in this though. I've learned that we are all tied together with such similar humanity. I've realised that hunger feels the same in Colombia as it does in America. It's maybe experienced on a different scale, but its still hunger. Hurt feels the same. Rejection, fear and love are felt by all people. A wealthy American child's sadness does not become insignificant in front of a Colombian's. He still experiences sadness.

Despite knowing that, I find myself increasingly unsettled in the Western World. I hope one day I'll be able to just go back home and live a normal existance. But if I cant return to the naiveness I once enjoyed I dont know if I can do normal. Faces haunt my mind. Memories surface when I dont want them to.

I went out to dinner with some of the older campers the other night. They decided to have an eating competition; an activity which in my youth I would have found completely normal. A couple of them ate until they were actually sick, and the disparity of it ate at me. I couldn't help but contrast the abundance we enjoy in the West to what I see in the rest of the world. The faces of Colombian kids came to my mind, and I started feeling sick. I remembered how if I took the kids out to lunch in Colombia they would save the left overs ... they would save MY left over scraps of chicken, and would take them back to share with their families for dinner. It doesn't all fit, the contrast has built too much discontent within me.

A camp mother sent her child to camp with one set of clothes for each day. Nice clothes, designer clothes. He was instructed to throw them away at the end of each day, as she was unprepared to wash such filthy clothes at the end of camp. We didn't allow that to happen, and we gave the clothes to good will. But again the faces came to my mind. Colombian children who many of you helped clothe last Christmas. Their smiling gleaming eyes, appreciative of such simple presents. They still wear those same clothes with pride eight months later.

Again, I swear this is not an anti-wealth, anti-West email. I am rather describing this struggle that I am facing as I try to fit in to two separate worlds. I do get hurt though by the indifference I see in the West. It shouldn't be considered fun to overeat until you're sick, when so many in the world have so little. It should be unnecessary to throw out perfectly good clothes when they are so appreciated in a developing country. But honestly, I see too many people that don't care, or just forget.

I thank YOU for your continued support of my activities. I hope that you can continue to impact the developing world through my work. I hope my emails will never be viewed as manipulative means of raising funds. That has never been my intention, my friendships with you all are much too important for me to do that. Rather I have hoped that through my projects I might facilitate some action and participation, to allow you to contribute to something that you can trust is being cared for by me personally.

Anyway, I return to Colombia soon. Im a citizen now, some wierd patriotism make me excited to return. I'll leave Bogota behind for a while, the city I spent the first 6 months of this year in, to return to Pereira, where I spent last Christmas. I'm excited to be closer to the bakery we're starting up, and to become more involved in it and the community it is benefiting. I've ben offered a volunteer position at an orphanage that cares of children placed through community services. It will be a completely different type of child than those I worked with in Bogota, so I'm looking forward to the new skills I will develop and the new knowledge I will gain. For this season I will take leave from YWAM, and am still praying for some clearer guidance to a long term ministry position in 2009.

For His Glory,

Jon Howes

Serving the people of Colombia.