Haiti, March 3-10, 2012 | Blog 6.

Sometimes in the middle of situations I imagine what life would look like if that situation were to last for eternity. And sometimes these imaginings take place during really cool stuff - a concert, a moment of epiphany. However, for the most part, my what-if-this-moment-was-the-rest-of-my-life thoughts revolve around situations that are boring, frustrating, or just bad.

And one of those kinds is what I imagined earlier when we were making a three hour bus trip - a 24 seater - with all the kids from WOR, all the staff from WOR, and all of our team. I had two kids sort of sitting on me over the bumps, the window wide open (a perk, besides the loads of dust flying in my face), and a growing rumbling in my stomach (and not the hunger kind).

It was this whole thing that I was imagining lasting forever. And this is some of the unglorious side of mission trips.

In the midst of all these thoughts, one of those two kids kind of grabbed my hand for a second. I always feel so honored when kids initiate something towards me, and the same was true for this guy. But because of the way he was holding it so loosely I wondered if he’d quickly lose interest and I’d quickly feel dejected.

On both of those accounts I was proven wrong.

Just a few minutes later he grabbed my hand a bit tighter and didn’t let go for a while, despite both of our sweat. While I was reveling in the fact that Widmy was still holding my hand I managed to open my eyes to look out into the dusty landscape and I happened to see a small, young, growing tree inside this cement and dust triangle. In that I just got this picture of hope.

Hope.

As we’ve seen different sites of Haiti - one of the best views is from the roof of Pastor’s house - the theme that keeps running through my heart and mind is hope. Both regarding Haiti and just in general, I’m really beginning to fall in love with hope. In light of brokenness, and all that goes with it, Jesus and his hope is the only thing to counter it. In the midst of the harshness of the concrete, Jesus and his hope stands in stark comparison. Such a beautiful contrast that only he can make so clearly.

The whole rest of the afternoon I’ve had a John Mark McMillan song stuck in my head. Not the whole song applies, but a few of the lines are some prophetic prayers I’ve been making for this beautiful country.

Hope grows between cracks in the asphalt
in the downtown ghetto streets that contour
the government housing intentions of my heart.
No one notices the daisies don't care
about gang related violence
as long as they get enough air and water and sun
they're all just fine.

Who would've thought it but life is finding a way
through this wasteland of cynics, concrete, and pain.
There's a man down here somewhere between
the Saturday cartoons and the dirty magazines.
He's raising the dead in the graveyards
where we've laid down our dreams.
His name is Hope.

Jesus. God help us to love with that same determination as a kid who still wants to hold my hand even when we’re all sweaty. Help us to see with eyes of hope, to look to see more than what meets the eye. God, more you. Less us.

- Ashley Loveless