The Real and Raw of Poverty

Today was a day filled with expectation and emotion. All week, we had been looking forward to being part of the Christ Life Center’s feeding program in the heart of Chainda—a square-mile slum on the outskirts of Lusaka, Zambia.

Chainda is home to over 65,000 people, packed into a space barely the size of a neighborhood in America. It’s one of 11 similar slums surrounding Zambia’s capital city, where life is shaped by generational poverty. Most families live in one or two small rooms, often shared by 8 to 11 people. Opportunities are scarce, and without access to education, escaping the cycle of poverty can feel impossible. That’s why the work of Christ Life Center—especially their food and education programs—is so vital. They’re not just serving meals; they’re sowing hope into the next generation.

When we pulled up in our bus, we were greeted with the kind of joy that words can hardly capture—high fives, wide smiles, and warm hugs from children who were genuinely happy to see us. The school that Christ Life built sits on land that once housed a brothel and a bar—now transformed into a place of life, laughter, and learning.

Waiting for us were 890 children—yes, eight hundred and ninety—ready to welcome us with music and dancing. Every grade had prepared something, and before we knew it, we were pulled in to dance and sing right alongside them. Their energy was contagious. Their smiles, unforgettable. There was something sacred in that moment—joy unburdened by circumstance. We couldn’t stop smiling.

After the celebration, we joined the Christ Life team in their daily rhythm—feeding every single child. Watching them work was like witnessing a well-oiled machine fueled by compassion and purpose. We helped stir the nshima, a staple cornmeal dish somewhere between mashed potatoes and a tortilla, and joined the food assembly line—though truthfully, we probably slowed them down! In about an hour, every child had a plate in hand. It reminded me of the miracle in the Gospels—the feeding of the 5,000! The team didn't stop until the very last child was fed. For many of these kids, this is their only full meal of the day. They ate slowly, gratefully, savoring each bite.

Meanwhile, a team of volunteer women were busy washing and reusing plates—making sure each dish was thoroughly cleaned to prevent the spread of illness. Their work was constant, behind-the-scenes, and filled with care. It was humbling to watch. We cheered these miraculous “dishwashers” on.

Later in the day, we divided into teams and went house-to-house, hoping to simply listen, to connect, and to carry a little light. One visit in particular has stayed with us. We met Diana, a single mother raising five beautiful children in a one-room cement block home—divided only by a curtain. She shared her story with such honesty. After her partner left, she’s been struggling to make ends meet and falling behind on rent. As we sat together on the floor, she told us her dream: “I just want my children to get an education so they can live a better life.” One of her little ones is already enrolled in the Christ Life program. Another attends a government school. We reminded her—gently—that her dream is already in motion. We prayed with her, asking God to make a way where there seems to be none.

Every home we visited carried stories like Diana’s. Stories of strength. Of survival. Of aching uncertainty. And yet, through it all, there was a quiet hope that can only be explained by the presence of God. Somehow, even in the most difficult places, peace found its way to us.

The most moving part of the day came from someone we called “the master chef.” Her name is Bannasia. She’s the one who oversees cooking all 890 meals every single day. She shared her story with us—how her father passed away before she was born, and her mother, a doctor, was tragically killed in a car accident while seven months pregnant with her. Her survival is a miracle literally being cut out from her mother’s side so her life could be saved. She told me she sees herself in these children: orphaned, overlooked, but not forgotten. Her life is a testimony to resilience, and her service—an offering of love.

There are so many faces, so many stories we wish we could share in full. These people—these heroes—have changed us. Their faith, their fight, their quiet dignity in the face of unimaginable hardship—it all stays with us.

Poverty is real. It’s raw. Today, we saw it not as a statistic, but as the lives of children yearning for food, of mothers praying for provision, of entire communities working tirelessly to break free from a cycle that’s held them too long.

And yet, we also saw hope. We saw how one meal, one hug, one kind word, and one opportunity can change everything. We can’t change everything, but all of us can do something.

God is the God of the impossible. He is moving in Chainda. And so we ask—with full hearts—will you pray with us? Will you believe with us? Because what’s happening here isn’t just charity. It’s transformation.

Team Member of the Day Spotlight: Elizabeth Valencia

No Electricity, No Funds — But No Excuses

This past week has been a whirlwind of dirt roads, open hearts, and sacred moments. As we visited two Christ Life Church plants in rural Zambia—Chongwe and Katende—I was struck again and again by the same phrase:

“No electricity…No funds. But also…no excuses.”

At CLC Chongwe, I was deeply moved by Pastor Chama and his wife Amelia, who are leading with strength and unwavering faith. With no consistent funding, no running water, and no electricity, they’re still giving everything they have—literally their entire lives—in service to the Lord and their community. Their volunteer teacher has been showing up every Monday - Friday for three years to teach these children for free. It’s humbling. It’s inspiring.

“We do what we can.”

That phrase also keeps echoing in my mind. These people give their best to God despite having so little in material terms. It’s a beautiful reminder that obedience doesn’t require abundance. It just requires willingness.

In Katende, the church plant is still under construction, but that hasn’t stopped them. They're already gathering for weekly worship, even as they pray for basic things many of us take for granted:

• A building to worship in consistently.

• Electricity

• Clean water

• Food

I could go on, and yet, they gather. They worship. They believe.

We also spent time in more classrooms where the children were so excited over what we consider basic craft supplies. Their joy was unfiltered, genuine, and contagious. Every child was well-behaved and grateful—reminding me that God is at work even in the smallest gestures.

Grief & Grace…

One powerful moment came when Kim shared about grief—how God meets us in our pain, how worship becomes our offering even when it’s heavy. It was a needed reminder that God welcomes our open, broken hearts. Not only when we're joyful, but also when we’re grieving.

Brenda’s and Cheyenne’s testimonies were inspiring. There’s something sacred about acknowledging that we both need and receive forgiveness. Grace isn’t just a concept here—it’s a lifeline.

As I reflect on my own life—my struggles, my past, my excuses—I’m challenged to live more simply and serve more boldly.

These families, these children, these pastors—they do what they can with what they have, and they give it all to God

And so must I.

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." — Philippians 4:13