Have you ever seen a really good movie?
That when the credits are rolling you feel inspired?
You watch and think, ‘That was so good. What an ending! What a beautiful happily ever after!’
The kinds that make you feel like you’ve seen more of the world, ‘Whoa, I’m going to live differently.’
Maybe it was an underdog story or a grand love story.
A movie like “Slumdog Millionaire” where a boy from the slums overcomes being orphaned at a young age, is forced to provide for himself, nearly has his eyes taken out, but still grows up to have a good heart and wins 100,000,000 rupees and the love of his life.
Or “Dead Poet’s Society” where Mr. Keating teaches a group of young men to be independent and to think for themselves.
The list goes on…“Shindler’s List”, “Forrest Gump”, “The Green Mile”, “Billy Elliot”, and on and on…
So what happens after?
After the last scene flashes across the screen and the credits finish what happens?
Sure Jamal won all that money and ended up with Latika, but isn’t Latika affected by being sold into slavery as a child? Being forced all those years to do god-knows-what with Javed. Just because she ended up with Jamal that means everything is fine? And what about Jamal’s brother Salim? He just got mixed up in the wrong crowd. He saw men with money and power and he went for it, thinking he could make a life for himself and Jamal.
And what about Neil? All he wanted to do was join the play and be independent and instead is pulled from school by his over-bearing father and ended up committing suicide. And Mr. Keating lost his job and would probably never work anywhere credible again, but all is well because those boys stood up on their chairs and say, “Oh Captain! My Captain!”?
I know what you’re thinking, “Rach, those are movies. These people aren’t real. Where are you going with this? It’s getting depressing in here.”
Just bear with me a little longer.
From those synopses these movies don’t sound too inspirational huh?
So why do we think they are?
Because they give us hope.
Jamal made it out of the slums and saved Latika from the hands of Javed.
A group of boys became men because a teacher took an intentional interest in them.
Coming out on the field I had a lot of expectations.
I thought I’d be healing people, saving kids from abuse, bringing people to Christ daily…
…I thought I’d feel filled up.
I thought that being in this community would change who I was.
I thought that I would be on such a spiritual high that I would never come down.
When I was living in the comfort and shelter of quiet Zionsville I knew issues around the world existed.
But they didn’t affect me.
They weren’t happening in front of me or to people I loved dearly.
But now they are.
Now this is my life.
This is what occupies my thoughts.
And I started to lose hope.
I tried to numb myself to it.
I tried to put the sheltered bubble around me.
I wanted to protect my heart.
I needed to.
Because day after day I meet girls who are torn away from their families to be trafficked.
Children come up to me and beg for money.
Their tears engraved on their cheeks in the dirt caked on their faces.
They kick their cardboard and collapse in defeat when people walk by without acknowledging their existence.
Boys at age three have teeth that are already rotting.
With unexplainable scrapes and bruises that aren’t shown the attention they need.
Mothers don’t even know how to love because no one loved them.
Children are raising themselves…children are raising children.
Absent fathers.
Parents are gambling away money needed for food and clothes.
I live with 36 girls who are victims of emotional, physical, and sexual abuse.
Don’t just read over that, acknowledge their pain, their suffering.
People with serious medical problems receive no help at all.
Left to the streets to beg for money everyday.
Men with dislocated legs.
One leg.
No legs.
Kids are kidnapped on their way home from school.
And sold into sex slavery or are abused and then killed or are taken for their organs to be harvested.
Boys are raised as girls to be sold into prostitution.
Men are dressing like women, taking pills to grow boobs.
Parents who have watched their children die and children who have seen their parents murdered.
Poverty is everywhere I look.
Slum after slum, houses made of scraps of metal and wood.
And I don’t feel like I can do anything about it.
I feel so small in such a dark place.
I wonder if the kids we play with recognize our love as Jesus’s love.
I wonder if the girls I invest so much of my heart and time into know I truly care about them and wonder if they care about me.
I wonder if there’s a future for the kids who are begging, the disabled, the boys raised to be prostitutes.
I wonder if this kid or parent is going to break the cycle or if it’s just going to continue.
See where the loss of hope started to come in?
But there’s the great, amazing, absolutely jaw-dropping part about all of this.
Jesus.
Jesus loves passionately.
If we didn’t have Jesus there wouldn’t be any hope in this broken, hopeless place.
He has plans.
And just when I start to lose hope,
He shows up.
The other day one of the younger boys Laura Beth has intentionally loved on looked up at her from his place in her lap and asked a question in Tagalog.
“Will you pray for me?” was translated by his mother, a mother who neglects and gambles.
A couple nights ago I was hanging out with Janet, one of the girls I live with. She has a heart hardened by suffering and an attitude to match it.
I was chasing her around the house when she ran out the basement door. As I followed her into the darkness I tripped over a bench and fell hard. She kept running unaware of what had happened. With tears rolling down my face, I dragged myself into the kitchen to examine the damage.
When all of a sudden Janet burst through the door.
She grabbed ahold of me and began to sob, “Tita, I am so sorry. It’s all my fault, I’m sorry. Do you still want to play with me? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
After I calmed her down and assured her that I still love her she proceeded to run around the house like a madwoman in search of band-aids.
I don’t know what’s going to happen to all the people I’ve encountered this far.
I don’t know what their futures look like.
And yet, I have hope.
A lot of times I feel drained.
If I don’t find some quiet time with God during the day, I often feel empty.
Sometimes I have to think back really hard to remember who I was when I left to see that I am completely a different person.
But there’s something that sustains me:
Hope.
“And so Lord, where do I put my hope? My only hope is in you.” Psalm 39:7
“Why am I discouraged? Why is my heart so sad? I will put my hope in God! I will praise him again-my savior and my God! Now I am deeply discouraged but I will remember you-even from the distant Mount Hermon, the source of the Jordan, from the land of Mount Mizar” Psalm 42:5-6
“And his name will be the hope of all the world,” Matthew 12:21
“And this hope will not lead to disappointment. For we know how dearly God loves us, because he has given us the Holy Spirit to fill our hearts with his love.” Romans 5:5
My heart would not make it through the day if I didn’t have God walking me through each step.
I have hope for a happy ending.
I have hope that God will heal someone.
I have hope that He will bring kids out of abuse.
I have hope that Jesus is using us to change lives.
I have hope that when I’m at the end of this adventure and the credits are rolling I will feel filled up, different, inspired.
I have hope.
Do you?
