It's been an interesting week. To start it off, a guard at
our base, the one I was closest to, fell back into his addiction to alcohol. He
got drunk and started fighting with some guys on the street and got fired. That
night, two missionary friends of ours got jumped by about seven guys on their
way back home from our base just two blocks from their house. A few days later
our dorms got robbed while we were eating dinner and a couple good friends of
ours were the main suspects. Then a guy who I have been pouring into for a
while and who I thought was doing so well tells me he is seeing this girl who
has a boyfriend and he's having sex with her. Last night for a grand finale (or at least I hope it was a grand finale)
we were on our way back from a concert and about a block from our house we walk
right into the middle of a gang fight. Rocks were flying everywhere, people
were running, guys were bashing other guys heads in with rocks on the road,
launching their homemade mortars at each other, blood all over their faces. It was
the most awful thing I have ever seen. We
had to run into someone's house and wait for the police to come to scatter the
gangs.

The next morning was Sunday and everyone was over for church
at El Puente. It seemed like everyone thought it was one big joke. "Oh haha! I bet
you didn't get any sleep last night with the mortars going off! Haha! Yea they
were all up and down our street too! Our neighbor got a metal pipe thrown in
her window haha! Man they were just goin crazy last night, ya know?! Haha!"
Really? A joke? How could we make that into a joke? Satan is ruling over these
gangsters and people are dying in slavery to him and we make it a joke?

I was talking to my friend Carlos today while he was playing
his guitar and I asked him what he thought was the reason for last night. He said
it use to be like that all the time. Guys would slaughter other guys with machetes
and people would get stabbed all the time. But then El Puente was planted and bit by bit the violence went away and
the peace of God replaced it. I asked him why he thought it was starting up
again. He stopped playing his guitar and looked me in the eye and said, "We've
stopped praying, Trevor."

 I didn't write this blog
to worry you, to get any comments about being careful or anything like that. I wrote
it because these people need prayer. I need prayer. The gangsters need prayer. The
victims need prayer. The people who make jokes about it need prayer. The
addicts need prayer. Nicaragua needs prayer. The nations need prayer. Pray,
pray, pray and don't ever stop. The world needs it.