I sit and hear my kid’s stories often. I listen, I watch their eyes shift from mine to the floor and glaze over, I hear their voice change, I see their faces become serious. I not only hear the pain in their past but I visibly see it in how their demeanor changes and I typically sit there and think to myself, how do they go on? I put myself in their shoes, with their painful past, with all the neglect, abuse, denial, the lack of love... and I think to myself, ‘if it were me, I think I’d give up, I’d quit getting out of bed in the morning or worse...’ I literally cannot fathom how some of them did not take their own lives by this point... their stories are that bad and I mean when all you have is abuse and people not wanting you in your life how do you have any hope? If you’ve never seen any one hope and just experienced hurt then how do you know of it?
Over the past 2 weeks we have had numerous teams of Americans come in on trips. There has been a slight part of me that wonders why are ALL of these people are coming down here. As I’ve talked to some of the members of these groups I have heard them experience the same thing that I experienced on my visits down here in the past, “There is just something different” and it makes you want to keep coming back and clearly groups and people do.
I came across a quote from Velvet Elvis by Rob Bell today that says, “Ultimately our gift to the world around us is hope. Not blind hope that pretends everything is fine and refuses to acknowledge how things are. But the kind of hope that comes from staring pain and suffering right in the eyes and refusing to believe that this is all there is. It is what we all need- hope that comes not from going around suffering but going through it.” And that is just what these kids have; a hope that makes no sense, one that has been with them from the very beginning. A hope that was with them as they were beaten by their mom, raped by their dad, told their weren’t good enough by their adoptive parents, hungry as their dad spent all their money on drugs, lonely as they sat at home alone at 3 AM as their mom prostituted herself... These kids have looked some of the worst pains and suffering in the face and said, “I know there is more than this, I REFUSE to give up” and they’ve kept on marching. That is why groups keep coming back... these kids know a hope that has never pierced our safe suburban homes, with our savings accounts, our complete families, and all the securities we place around us to make sure we’ll always be “alright” protecting ourselves from many pains and sufferings.
The hope they have still makes no sense to me but it is a beautiful light that shines brightly to me through their smiles daily. It is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen... it has God written all over it and I have no doubt that in those moments that pierce my heart and make me cringe that my kids went through that He was right there beside them, never once taking His gaze off of them, never letting them out of His sight... renewing that hope in them each morning and longing one day for them to be safe and walk in His freedom.
