Short Term Service - Details Page

John Sparrow

I shivered - it was cold as I arrived in Heathrow’s multi-story car park. It was 6am on a chilly September morning. I had a sandwich in my hand, but wasn’t that hungry. Things were a bit weird. I was about to leave everything I knew, everyone I knew, to go to the Philippines for 6 months (or at least that’s what I thought). Texts came in from various Christian friends wishing me a safe journey and promising they’d pray for me. I checked in my luggage, and Dad and I walked slowly through the airport, my mind wondering. What would it be like? What if I didn’t like it? What would I even be doing? I was wakened from my thoughts as I was asked to hand over my water bottle. This was it, the final goodbye at security – I’d lost count of how many people I’d bid farewell to. I walked through security turning back to wave as dad disappeared out of sight. I wandered around the terminal with clouded-over eyes as I replied to some of the farewell texts.

John SparrowTwenty-two hours later I was flying over the already dark city of Manila. There was no-one down in the city lights that I knew, and no-one there knew me. This was going to be my home for the next 6 months of my gap year (or at least that’s what I thought). I landed - it stank. Then the heat and general bustle hit me. The temperature was 30ºC, cooling down in the evening. Shivering back in the car park of Heathrow felt like a world away. Driving through manila the traffic was manic; cars, jeepneys, and tricycles all trying to win the race, and then there were people in the roads trying to slow down the race to sell you rubbish. I was driven past slum areas, saw street people sleeping on the side of the roads and was then shown to a room at the back of Cubao Reformed Baptist Church (CRBC), and was told “it’s all yours”. I soon found out this wasn’t the case – I wasn’t alone. Firstly there were cockroaches, lizards, spiders, ants – you name it, it was there, it was stamped on by an angry Englishman. Also God was really there with me, in a way I’ve not experienced before, close to me, comforting and encouraging me through his word. Prayer hadn’t felt so real before either.

The first few weeks were bewildering to say the least, scattered with misunderstandings (I didn’t know a word of tagalong, their language). Even though their English was very good on the whole I’d often end up at the wrong place, or the right place, but at the wrong time. I think being at the wrong place at the wrong time was mainly my style in those first weeks. But I learnt from it. I also got ill, I’d never been very ill before, I just didn’t realise sickness could make the whole world go black, well it can – and just when you want to find somewhere to be sick!

Thankfully the misunderstandings and sickness passed, and I began to get to know people, get involved in the work they were involved in, travel around the way they did, and slowly pick up some useful phrases in their language so I could try to speek like they spoke. As Manila became less of a strange city and more of a home, I noticed more and more of the vast numbers of poor and needy.

Christian Compassion Ministries (CCM), a ministry of CRBC is involved in reaching out to these people. There are two main parts of CCM. One is the Educational Assistance Program (EAP) helping children in the slums with their education. The children are sponsored in their schooling by UK/US sponsors, and attend various CCM activities where they hear the word of God. The second main part of the work is the Homes work. This consists of 3 children’s homes for sexually abused, neglected and orphaned children. You might expect quite a depressed atmosphere at a home of 40 girls who are either sexually abused or neglected, but no. There are many smiling faces and a very positive atmosphere – from what I can tell this filters down from the social workers and house mothers.

It was CCM where I spent most of my time – dividing my time between the offices that oversee the two main parts of the work. I’d edit reports on children’s progress, envelope them ready to be sent to UK/US sponsors, check finances spread-sheets, help make calendars for sponsors, and generally just try to help out with anything simple that needed doing. I also ‘played with’, (I mean, ‘tried to improve’) their computer systems, as this was something that I’d learnt a bit about in UK. Three times a week I’d lead devotions at the children’s homes, giving the house mothers a break.

I also had the privilege of attending lectures at GMA, the church’s bible college. As well as this and CCM, once a week I’d go along and help at the Drop-in centre where the street people would be fed and hear a gospel message. People also went out of their way to get me involved in other parts of church life too, ensuring I had a packed but interesting life.

Eight and a half months after leaving Heathrow, I was again in a terminal, this time in Manila International. Instead of roaming around, this time I sat down – I was really very tired. And again through glazed eyes I replied to various farewell messages. As the wheels tucked under the plane I offered up a prayer of thanks for such an amazing time. I’d extended my stay by two and half months, feeling both that God was teaching me so much, that I was really enjoying it, and hopefully also that I was being of some help. It was again dark as the plane rose high above the packed city of manila, for the second time in my life I looked down, but this time knowing that nestled in between those lights were some wonderful ministries, some amazing people, great friends: things I will never forget. I hope I see those city lights again.

Catherine Barker

From Poverty in Riches, to Riches in Poverty

At the start of December 2009, I jetted off to a collection of 7,107 islands in South-East Asia. A world apart - literally, culturally, linguistically and in every other way – and it was the greatest assurance to know that my heavenly Father was with me, even if that was 7,000 miles from everything I’d ever known.

There was no job description as such, just to be ‘a spare pair of hands’ in whatever needed doing, particularly in the work with Christian Compassion Ministries (CCM), the benevolent arm of the church. Work started straight away. To begin with there was a huge amount of adjusting to do, including to the tropical climate, the lack of health and safety, an almost impossible language, and food based entirely on rice, rice, and more rice. But this adjustment didn’t end – when I left six months later, I was still finding my feet and daily learning more about this fantastic, vibrant nation.

Catherine BarkerOver the months I got stuck into anything they asked me to do, from assisting at two Holiday Bible Clubs, scrubbing bloodied pliers at a community Dental Mission, teaching English grammar to the orphanage staff, leading evening devotions in the three orphanages each week, editing the English in the reports compiled by the Social Workers about the sponsorship programme children, visiting sick squatter children that looked like Oxfam adverts, and many other tasks. In this environment, the promise that ‘as your days are, so shall your strength be’ (Deuteronomy 23:35) had to be constantly relied upon even more than usual. The work was hard, particularly as it was exacerbated by the unrelenting intense heat and humidity, but none of this stopped it being indescribably rewarding. My time was generally divided between CCM’s community work, with the educational assistance program helping sponsored children and their families in the squatter areas, and the CCM orphanages, which care for over 60 children from a range of very difficult and usually abusive backgrounds.

Living in the Girls’ Home at Masinag, I was able to form very close relationships with the girls, who generously shared their lives with me despite the language and cultural barriers. My friendships with them (which are still ongoing online), have entirely changed the way that I see my relative material wealth and huge undeserved blessings. I found myself thanking God for air conditioning, the lack of cockroaches in England, nit combs, as well as many other gifts from heaven which, until you are deprived of them, are so easy to take for granted.

The sterling examples of Christian compassion and love shown by the housemothers and Social Workers were such testimonies to the grace of God, even in the most difficult of situations, as well as being immense challenges – could I give thanks if my life was permanently rooted in those circumstances? I was able to come away back to the Western world at the end of those months, but the vast majority of the people I met had no choices: their lives, and unfortunately almost certainly the level of poverty in which they will remain trapped, will remain, having been determined by the place of their birth.

The material need was so great that at times it was almost depressingly overwhelming, but you had to remember that the Lord is in control, and that each time you helped even one family, you had made a big difference to those individuals. On community visits to the numerous squatter areas, you encountered similar situations each time – unbelievably cramped living quarters, hungry stomachs, a population density beyond imagination, rats, and fathers spending their meagre wages for the escapism of gambling and alcohol.

And yet, I was really struck by how friendly and happy these people seemed to be. They had almost nothing, and yet the levels of contentment were so high, and their hearts seemed so open to the good news about Christ. What a challenge to a girl from a materially dependent world – riches in poverty, in stark contrast to the spiritual poverty with material riches around me at home. And yet how encouraging too: from living in a land which is experiencing a positive withdrawal of the Holy Spirit, to a  land, although primarily Catholic, in which the Word is often received warmly, and the work of the Lord can more commonly be openly seen in a much greater way.

A Christmas party in a slum exposed the humanity which is shared by everyone, whatever their background and circumstances. As we joked about the group dancing, what may sound obvious became very real to me – these people have the same emotions, the same capacity for humour, the same need for hope, and, above all, the same need for forgiveness as any of us. They are the same as us under the skin, they were just born in a different place. Contrary to my fears, I detected no resentment, despite the fact that these people could be certain I’d never washed my clothes in sewage water in my life, or that my family and I had never had to survive on a cup of coffee between us for a day’s sustenance when the budget pot ran dry. I thank God for the opportunity to meet such amazing people.

It wasn’t all hard work! I did get chances to visit the countryside. The Philippines is a land of extremes, primarily between rich and poor, and between urban and rural. I visited tropical beaches, with the beautifully warm clear turquoise sea and yellow sand, and the jungle with its wide-leafed vegetation and bamboo huts that looked just like the set of ‘Tarzan’. Riding a caribou (the national animal, resembling a buffalo) was something I won’t forget in a lifetime, and I can now empathise with the back-ache suffered by rice planters! The very cheap fruit was a continual perk, with the sweet flesh of mangoes, the creaminess of papaya, bananas by the bunch, and refreshing watermelon for a welcome hydration boost.

The indescribable privilege of knowing the Gospel was re-enforced again and again. On one particularly memorable morning we had trekked across to a huge slum area on the ever-precarious public transport, and had paid a visit to a Catholic lady with links to a local church. We entered the eight-foot square raised hut to find her middle-aged brother in his final hours, lying on the floor and with feverish sweat pouring from his body. The cause of his suffering was an enlarged heart, and his family could not possibly hope to pay the fee for a heart transplant. This was probably the most graphic illustration of poverty I saw, and the image of that poor man gasping for every breath was a poignant reminder that we must all face death, no matter what our situation in life. I have never felt so privileged as I felt kneeling on the rough floor beside him whilst a friend explained the saving power of Jesus Christ. Even in the last few breaths of life, he could gain heaven. We later found out that he had died three days after our visit, and we pray that he sought mercy before it was too late.

The evenings were pretty full too. I was able to attend a Grace Ministerial Academy evening class (the academy primarily trains men for pastorate work) and the church prayer meeting was a formidable example – prayer lasted almost non-stop for ninety minutes, during which I only understood the occasion word and ‘Amen’! The ‘Drop In Centre’ every Thursday night introduced me to the skills of cooking for 140 people with only a gas ring, two enormous woks and a very limited budget, the back-breaking task of serving out stodgy rice onto each plate with a plastic scoop, and then washing up each plate and bowl during the message, and the joy of being able to share the blessing of a hot, decent meal with those who live on the streets. The unfailing dedication of the volunteers (members of the church) to this work each week, despite the stickiness of the evenings and the weariness after a day of work, was such a lesson in Christian service and a practical outworking (often literally) of Jesus’ promise that ‘anyone who gives you a cup of water in my name because you belong to Christ will certainly not lose his reward’ (Mark 9:41).

Coming back to Britain, the adjustment back was as profound as the emotions I had felt when arriving in Manila. The spiritual deadness of this country, in contrast to its material excesses, hit me very strongly. The lack of openness made me immensely thankful for the softness of Filipino hearts, and although I would never wish the level of poverty I lived amongst to be seen in the UK, at least having nothing deepened your trust in and reliance upon the Lord in a way which it is hard to experience when you have the material wealth of this country. All of my experiences have confirmed my view that real poverty is to be without a relationship with God, and without a certain hope of heaven.

Georgina Turner

In the first few days of my trip to Manila a few people said that 4 weeks was not long enough to visit CCM, I thought I understood why – perhaps there was lots to do, there’s a whole language to learn, there were lots of places I wouldn’t get to see. Then at the end of my time in Manila I realised it went so much deeper than that, the language was only the start of many differences in culture and communication.

Drop-in Centre

Georgina TurnerOn the last of my four visits to the drop-in centre at Cubao Reformed Baptist Church I met a mother and her three children; once a week the drop-in centre offers a meal and the message of the gospel to families living rough on the streets. With over one hundred street people to feed there weren’t a shortage of jobs to do every Thursday evening and after I’d helped to dish out over one hundred plates of rice and meat in sauce I was able to go and sit with the street people while they listened to a Bible talk. I sat next to a mother, she was sharing her meal with her daughter who looked as if she was under 2 years old and her son was running around playing with the other street children, he looked about 5 years old. Each member of the family had been given their own meal, but by the looks of it the daughter’s meal had been put in a bag, it’s not often these people are guaranteed food for the next day. As I was sitting I was handed a beautiful bundle, a little baby girl who looked no older than 6 months, she snuggled into my arms and fell asleep. Being a qualified nanny in England I’m used to holding sleeping babies, with their soft skin and gentle snores – but this one was different, the streets had already had an affect on her, her baby soft skin had spots of dirt and her breathing was shallow and occasionally broke into a baby sized coughing fit. My heart went out in prayers for the family, but as well as realising the severity of their situation, I was able to praise God for the very place I found my self sitting in. The people from Cubao Reformed Baptist Church are commited to sharing the hope of a better future with these people; this baby and her family were hearing the news of a saviour, food for their hungering souls. I felt privileged to be a part of it.

Community Visits

During my time in Manila some of the social workers in Christian Compassion Ministries’ education programme took me to see the slum areas that they work in. The Educational Assistance Programme heavily subsidises or pays for the tuition fees of children from deprived families, giving them the chance to gain an education and help their family out of poverty, but most of all providing a tangible example of Christ’s love for helpless sinners and the opportunity to share the gospel. I followed the social workers through mazes of dark, damp, cramped alleys between one-roomed houses made from wood, cardboard and tarpaulin. Already knowing about poverty, I wasn’t completely shocked at the state of the slum areas, but I was shocked at the way of living. The apathetic attitude that pervaded the slums was incredible, the resignation to this way of living; but I met the children that were being helped by CCM. The social workers explained how some of these children were excelling in their academic achievements – despite often working on an empty stomach or walking to school because they couldn’t afford transport, these children were often admired by their communities and considered an example for others who thought there could be no way out of their hopelessness.

Carol Ryan

Listening to my friend, Sarah Platts talking enthusiastically and passionately about her recent trip to the Philippines as we sat, chatting in a restaurant in the summer of 2008, I was struck by the affect that the experience had had on her. Inspired, I expressed my desire to join her on her next visit. 10 months later I found myself on a plane bound for Manila! To my shame I knew very little about the work of Christian Compassion Ministries before I left so I found Brian Ellis’ talk on the work which he presented at my church the week before my flight, very useful! I went out to the Philippines not really knowing my purpose for going but I was pretty sure that God would make use of my time out there, that I would learn something new and that I’d meet some amazing people – this all happened in more ways than one!

So first impressions...

Manic Manila!!

Carol RyanThousands of people swarm about in an organised chaos trying to sell whatever they can to make money. There is a sense of urgency and desperation in their plight as small children bang frantically on the windows of cars to sell a piece of rag only to be met by bleary-eyed stares, life is hard for everyone: for those inside the car and for those out of it. Life is of course hardest for those living in the slums and on the streets – where babies have their hands wrapped up in mittens before they go to sleep at night to stop the rats from nibbling them, where clothes and bodies are washed in water running with sewage and waste. Sarah and I were privileged to spend much of our time with the CCM social workers, who, on top of their own work committed saw to our every need, ensuring that we were transported to and from where we needed to be, that we had a plentiful supply of safe drinking water and that we didn’t eat anything too dodgy! Our itinery was packed for the whole three weeks with various camps, teen retreats, craft sessions, a holiday bible club, a couple of outings to a beach and a trek up a volcano. Because of our schedule, although we were based at the Masinag girl’s home we seemed to stay at a different place every night. We rose at 4.30am most mornings to beat the traffic and the heat. Needless to say by our final week we were fairly exhausted but it was great to see so much of the work! Observing the work of CCM in action is to see God at work, feeding the hungry, loving the unloved and healing the abused. Where people in Cubao have been marginalised and forgotten by society they have been accepted and loved by the church. Watching the unconditional love of the social workers reaching purposefully into the lives of the many people living on the streets I felt utterly convicted about the way I choose to deal with homeless people here in England. How often I have felt justified in turning a blind eye to those who beg for money or allowed my heart to go hard and cold as I pass those who sleep on hard and cold pavements at night?

How easy it is to dismiss the problem as too large. But the CCM workers don’t dismiss it. They invest huge amounts of their time, effort and emotions into individual lives. One of the Social workers Alex gets up at 4am every morning to start his 3 hour commute to the CCM office; he clocks in at 7am and clocks out at 6pm to head home.

An initiative that Alex has recently set up is taking off in an encouraging way: He has got together a group of around 12 young people from the slums who act as representatives for their area. They meet regularly to discuss issues that affect the children and teenagers in the slums and pray about them. They are not only able to contribute to their community in a positive way but are also learning of their eternal value in Christ

The effect that this ministry has on the lives of these young people is palpable. During the EAP camp 100 teenagers sat through the bible sessions and workshops eagerly soaking up what was being talked about. Many shared at the end how CCM had given them hope for their futures. On Sunday the children from the care homes sit respectfully through three different services and all the way home in the minibus they serenade you with songs they have learnt about the bible. They don’t just sing it either, they live it.

Anyone could excuse the girls at Masinag care home for being a bit selfish, a bit demanding, occasionally physically aggressive. What more do you expect from girls aged between 5-15 who have been sexually abused and neglected? But these things are rarely seen. Instead the girls live like they are all sisters in one big family, they appear happy and content, they cooperate with each other when doing their chores and when they are playing and they share everything they have. I think the key factor to this rather unorthodox behaviour is that they know they are loved and accepted, by God and by the dedicated housemothers who care for them.

Our visit to the slums was the most memorable event of our trip. In the sweltering heat we crept through a village of makeshift rooms whose walls and ceilings were made from cobbled together cardboard and wood. Families huddled together in the smallest of spaces usually around a fuzzy T.V. In one room that I couldn’t stand up in 8 children slept side by side. We were told they were frequently visited by rats and cockroaches which were attracted to the collection of rubbish and a dead dog behind one of the walls.

Most people we met greeted us with warm smiles and generously offered us something to eat or drink. Others stared at us warily or appeared too ashamed to even meet our eyes – some seemed to be keenly aware of the huge gulf that lies between rich and poor and didn’t want to be reminded of the fact by the presence of two western girls having a nose at their poverty.

We enjoyed wonderful fellowship with many of the staff at CCM – everyday for them whether it involves work or leisure is used as an opportunity to get alongside others to encourage, counsel or challenge them – there’s no such thing as small talk. Conversations are open, honest and stimulating. They leave you feeling inspired and built up in the Lord. These folks are compassionate, committed Christians who are devoted to breaking the cycle of poverty and hopelessness for hundreds of children and adults in the slums. They do this in Christ’s strength, not their own and in turn reflect His glory. They need our prayer. May God continue to bless this work.