i read somewhere that every heart is a profound mystery to the heart beating nearest it. and that's how i felt as our van left the el paso city limits around five in the morning and i looked off towards juarez, mexico, now just a black valley pitted by millions of fuzzy lights glowing burnt orange. yes, the lights where fuzzy, but that's because everything is fuzzy at five in the morning. but i couldn't stop thinking about the families we built the houses for. the kids we played soccer with. the old men sitting on cracked buckets outside their cardboard homes watching us ever so closely as we drove by. "where is the hope in all of this" my mind echoed. is it possible to ever leave the barrios of juarez and start a new life? do these people even want to leave or are they content to build cardboard house upon cardboard house for the generations to come? honestly i don't think these people really have a choice and as i watched those millions of tiny lights glow off in the distance that morning, the poverty of humanity slapped me in the face. i felt overwhelmed. i felt helpless. i saw something scary, something much bigger than me. i want to give up but i can't because Christ's love compels me and i know that there is a needy heart attached to those glowing lights. i can't imagine giving up now. i want people to know the hope and joy that comes in knowing Christ. i want this world to be fixed. i discovered this past week that as a Christian there is now room for hopelessness. or at least there shouldn't be. now lets make this clear that there is a difference between hopelessness and doubt. doubting is ok. it's just what you do with the doubt that can be bad. you still have a fighting chance with doubt. however, with hopelessness everyone goes home and nobody wins. you've pretty much thrown in the towel. the first couple of days in the barrio i was hopeless. hopeless that nothing would ever change for these people. but like i had said once before, sometimes my big ideas are no bigger than me. i was frustrated with my limitations. i wanted to believe that the three houses we built that week meant nothing in the grand scheme of things but i know that i would be missing the point entirely. there seemed like so many more people out there who needed help. but i'm so thankful that i don't have to fix everything. i am thankful that i don't need to fix everything. i am thankful that the God i have hope in is so much bigger than me and i hope i die trying to tell people that. it's my prayer that hopelessness would never be a stumbling block for any believer. may we never lose sight of the hope that is in God through Christ Jesus. we live in a world in need but let us not lose heart but run the race with endurance.
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