MINISTRIES
Street Ministry
Meeting Them Where They Are: The Streets
The streets of Tegucigalpa are raw with survival. They are crowded with vendors, trash, noise, and unseen stories. Beneath bridges and alongside busy markets, boys as young as seven sniff yellow glue to escape the hunger and trauma that haunt them. This is where we meet them. Every week, our street ministry team walks into this world not to rescue, but to be with.
We learn names. We listen to stories. We offer food, prayer, and presence. Over time, trust begins to grow. In that sacred space of trust, some boys choose a different path, stepping into healing through the Micah House. This is the slow and sacred work of redemption, one relationship at a time.
Love That Shows Up, Week After Week
Street ministry isn’t glamorous, but God is at work. It’s gritty, surprising, heartbreaking, and humbling. It’s also where miracles begin. A piggy-back ride with a Micah staff member. A peanut butter sandwich. A prayer whispered with one of the boys. These are the holy moments where relationship starts and transformation begins.
For the boys of Tegucigalpa, trust is a rare currency. So we show up again and again with love that asks nothing in return. Over time, they begin to ask questions. About who we are. About who God is. About whether hope is really possible. When the time is right, some take the courageous step toward the Micah House. We walk with them every step of the way.
When the Streets Come to Us
And sometimes, to our joy, the streets show up at our door.
A boy hears about Micah through a friend. Another shows up hungry, asking if we have a little food or a place to sleep. Others arrive by grace and timing we could never orchestrate. We respond as we always do, with food, prayer, and open arms. Not every visit leads to a long stay, but every encounter is treated with dignity. Every story matters.
And every so often, something happens that reminds us how deeply God is involved in the details, like the story of Chuy, Jeremy, and Juancito.
In February of 2025, two boys we had known and loved for months, Chuy and Jeremy, arrived at the Micah House, ready to begin again. But they weren’t alone. Behind them stood a quiet, wide-eyed nine-year-old we had been praying for. His name was Juancito.
We hadn’t expected him that day. But he was ready. And so were we.
It is moments like this that remind us why Micah exists.