Hope: A belief in something that is certain, but not yet realized.
On 2/23/2014, I found out that Peter, a dear friend of mine, committed suicide. During ministry in Bangalore, I met Justine*, a sweet and gentle Hindu woman who at the age of 21 volunteered herself to a life of sex traffiicking and prostitution. What is the common bond between these two people who lived world’s apart? Lost Hope. I can’t pinpoint when it happened, and I’ve already lost enough sleep trying to wrap my mind around how it could have happened, but at some point in their lives both Peter and Justine believed a lie that there was nothing left to hope for.
In high school, Peter was my homeboy. We worked with each other at McDonalds, spent many nights together on the phone, he took me to my 10th grade Homecoming dance, we grew up in the same church, our families are close friends; and even after I moved from Lake Charles, LA to Atlanta, GA, Peter made sure to check in on me, letting me know that I crossed his mind. Whenever I visited or passed through Lake Charles, which unfortunately was a very rare occurrence, Peter was one of the only people who I made sure I saw before I left. I thought I knew enough about him and what was going on in his life to know that he was ok. So when I found out about his death, it hurt me tremendously and is still very difficult for me to cope with. I had so many unanswered questions and was even angry with myself for not being able to do anything about it, not being able to see his family or bring them comfort, and not being able to attend the funeral. Although I don’t have all the answers, I know that Peter’s death was a result of satan’s lie telling him that there was nothing left to live for, no better way out of his circumstance, and nothing to hope in.
I met Justine at the sex trafficking rescue home that I visited in Bangalore. I don’t know much about her because the difference in languanges as well as the time constraints put on our meetings made it difficult to carry on full conversations. However, I still tried to engage with her and understand as much about her and her life as possible. I do know that she loves ice cream (just like me), she just celebrated a birthday on March 29, and she worked at a temple in Bangalore for 16 years. When she first told me that she left home as soon as she could to work at a temple, because her father was a drunk who always had other men and women coming in and out of the house, I was a little confused as to how and why she ended up in the rescue home. Later, I found out that women who “work in a temple” are really sex workers. In India, although prostitution is not legal, women being trafficked in temple and even being born into prostitution because of their low caste is very common and often overlooked by public authorities.
When I ask Justine about her family, she tells me that she doesn’t have a family. When I ask her about her friends, she answers that she now has only one friend – and then points to me. When I ask her about her faith, she talks about Krishna, one of the 350 million gods that are worshipped in India. I’m glad that Justine is now safe, but she still isn’t happy, she still isn’t healed, and she has yet encounter hope. In fact, a lack of hope is what caused her to turn to prostitution in the first place.
My last weekend in India, I attended Passion in Hyderabad with a few others on my squad. I saw over 10,000 people gathered together, standing in an open field, jumping, screaming, singing, and worshipping Jesus Christ. This was the first time that Passion was held in India, and after 3 weeks of meeting people and serving in different ministries, it was refreshing to get a glimpse into something different – a glimpse of hope. Shortly after Passion, we packed up and loaded onto a bus to take another 10 hour bus ride back to Bangalore. As I looked out of my window, I saw an old lady begging for food and money on a street corner. Later, I encountered a young lady carrying a baby on a bus and using that child to get money as well. Just like that, the temporary high that I’d just reached at Passion was ruined by reality. By the reality that there are millions of people in India and billions of people around the world who have never been able to feel as alive as I did at the Passion concert. By the hurt of feeling like I have nothing to offer and no way to help, and even if I did try to give what I had, there is a chance that what I give won’t suffice.
I sat on the bus and asked, ‘God, how can you use me? What can I do? What can I give?’ I can’t handle the feeling that I’m spending a month in a country without making a real difference. I can’t handle the feeling that I’ve left my loved ones back home and some of them are hurting too. His response was simple:
Give them hope.
Give them Me.
That’s exactly what these people need. It’s what Justine needs. It is what Peter needed. When I want so badly to see a change and be part of the change, but feel like I have nothing to offer, I realize that I can offer Jesus, the Hope of Nations. That is now how I approach people who I meet on the Race. I realize that I can’t plant, water, and see the fruit of every seed; so if the only thing God wants me to do is to plant the seed of hope, then that’s what I’ll do. I trust that He will take care of the rest, because like His Word says, hope does not disappoint.
“Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom also we have access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and rejoice in HOPE of the glory of God. And not only that, but we also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance, and perseverance, character; and character, hope. Now HOPE DOES NOT DISAPPOINT because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us” -Romans 5:1-5
*Justine is the name given for this blog to protect her identity.
