Thursday, November 29, 2012

Hunger


If eradicating hunger was easy, no one would be hungry.

Putting an end to hunger is not easy!

When we are asked to make a commitment to give of our time,
we are quick to point out that we must work to put food on our own tables.
We don’t have time to spare.

When we are asked to give financially,
we talk about how stretched we already feel.
We don’t have money to spare.

When we are asked to stretch, to sacrifice, to go the extra mile,
we say we give generously – but often we barely feel the pinch.
We are reluctant to do without.

When we are asked to pray, we say we will,
but with no names and faces to pray for we quickly lose sight of that promise.
We don’t know the hungry in our communities.

Too often we overlook the poverty in our communities,
seeing instead those who have more than we do.

Too often we are quick to point out the faults of the hungry,
wondering why they don’t get a (better) job or plant a garden
instead of watching TV all day.

Too often we see the problem of hunger and poverty
and either ignore it or decide that it is too big
for any one person to actually make a difference.

Too often we assume someone else will help since we don’t see how we can.

Putting an end to hunger is not easy!

If eradicating hunger was painless, no one would be hungry.

Jesus ate with sinners.

Jesus fed five thousand hungry people with five loaves and two fishes.

Jesus gave the woman at the well living water;
water that gushes up to eternal life.

Jesus broke bread with his disciples that last Passover,
saying “This is my body, given for you.”

Jesus taught us to follow his example;
to go and do likewise.

So why do we keep making excuses? Why do we keep pointing fingers? 

Why are we reluctant to give of our time and our money and our lives?

Because nothing about eradicating hunger is easy or painless.

But everything about putting an end to hunger is faithful to the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Saturday, November 3, 2012

Looking For Hope


There is something about hope. It is always forward-looking, anticipating that things will not stay the way they are, that life will get easier, that there is more to our daily existence than what we see right now.  In hope we anticipate a day when our hearts will be filled with joy; we expect to meet Jesus.

Paul writes in Romans 4 of Abraham: “Hoping against hope, he believed that he would become ‘the father of many nations,’ according to what was said, ‘So numerous shall your descendants be.’ He did not weaken in faith when he considered his own body, which was already as good as dead... No distrust made him waver concerning the promise of God” (v. 18-20).

Abraham was almost one hundred years old and his wife, Sarah, was ninety and barren. And yet the promise of God filled him with hope – he would be the father of many nations.

Where did Abraham find that hope? Paul points to Abraham’s faith in the living God. The God of infinite possibility; the Father who raised Jesus from the dead (!); the God whose love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit; the Almighty One who promises that we have been justified through faith, freely given the peace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and obtained access to God’s abundant grace (see Romans 5:1-5).  

There’s something about hope. I saw it in the eyes of the children in Mexico. When we were in Huitzapula we traveled to a remote village – a mission of the already remote town of Huitzapula. When we got there we discovered that everyone had headed into town for the day, except these three children. While they were too shy to come over to us, we had brought fruit for the community.  We placed some in the grass for them to come get, and they received it gratefully.  

The church in this village had been destroyed in a storm, the few houses were in disrepair, the children had been left alone. At first glance the situation felt hopeless, but the people in these mountain villages radiated hope. In the other villages around Huitzapula, the moment we arrived the people left their work to stream to a common gathering place to praise God with us through song and prayer and reading and proclaiming God’s word. It was beautiful. Astonishing. So different from here.


Zimbabwe was no different. Even the ZOE orphans who had just entered the program radiated hope. The children in this picture are cousins who lost their parents to HIV/AIDS and now live with their grandparents in a place that would have been inaccessible by vehicle in the rainy season. Their grandfather is blind and their grandmother has severe cataracts. Faith, the oldest of the cousins, is sixteen and she is the primary caregiver. As we listened to a story that brought tears to our eyes, and as we watched the weight of grief nearly overwhelm Faith and her grandmother, there was still this sense of hope: “Things will get better. We will have enough to eat one of these days. God will not abandon us. And at least for right now we have a roof over our heads. At least we have each other.”

Why is it that we so often get trapped in a sense of hopelessness?  Why do we look at our situation and think, “Things will never get better”? Why do we have such a hard time seeing God at work in our lives?

Jesus tells us: “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God” (Mark 10:25).

I wonder if, as people who live in the “land of plenty”, we have misplaced our hope. We place our hope in wealth (however elusive it might be); we seek security in our government or our jobs; we expect that we will always have enough because even with the downturn in the economy and the many jobs that have been lost we generally have enough (even if it isn’t as much as we want). And we continue to place our trust in princes and mortals “in whom there is no help” (Psalm 146:3) - in people who care about us and love us but cannot save us. In misplacing our hope, we too often consider ourselves to be self-reliant, self-sufficient, and self-assured. If our hope is in the things of this world, then we really do not understand what it means to completely rely on God.

No wonder the church in the United States is struggling to survive. No wonder church often feels more like a social club or a place to feel good about ourselves rather than a life-saving station or a place of forgiveness and grace. Our hope is built on nothing less than – what? I don’t think it really is Jesus’ blood and righteousness. Our hope is too often built on our success, our ability to help others, our happiness. And if we are unhappy or unsuccessful or unable to help others then we feel like we have failed – we are hopeless.

Hope does not come in looking back over the path we have already taken. Hope does not come through wealth or security or education or friends or family. Hope never comes from the things of this world. Hope comes only from God in whom we place our trust.

Despair is often the antonym of hope. Despair is often tied to depression, despondency, discouragement. Does despair come from misplaced hope? Is it a symptom of a people who have lost sight of God? Do those who despair fail to see God in the ordinary? Are they unable to fully rely on God? Do they not believe that God has (awesome!) plans for them?

Abraham was as good as dead when he became the father of Isaac. Lazarus was dead when Mary and Martha cried to Jesus, “If only you had been here, my brother would not have died.” These are stories of hope. And the women saw where Jesus’ body was laid on that day of Preparation so long ago – they saw the stone rolled against the door of the tomb. And yet, on the third day, when the Sabbath was over, against all hope they went to the tomb. Hope.

Hope is not of this world. And yet it is so very tangible. Why is hope easier for me to see in Mexico or Zimbabwe? I wonder if it is because there are less opportunities for misplaced hope in these places. I wonder if it is easier to see God’s kingdom coming on earth when there are less expectations for success and self-sufficiency. Whatever the reasons, it is my prayer that I will learn to rely less and less on the things of this world and more and more on God.