Hope Road

Will I Forget You Now?

Poverty… is no cliche
when I walk its filthy, narrow streets
and look into its children’s eyes.

Statistics… are faces, not numbers
they are clinging hugs and questions
and unforgettable moments.

Orphans… are not a target group
when their love-hungry smiles light up the room
and they run their fingers through my hair.

But what was this all for? Philosophical observations from my ivory tower? Guilt-ridden ponderings on poverty and justice from my cozy American suburb? I think it makes a difference to not only be aware of the truth from a distance, but to see and smell and touch it up close. To be sick and weary. To be homesick. To be dirty. But still, what sort of difference will even experiential knowledge make?

What I yearn for is the most basic thing of all - that somehow, some way, those children in the eleven homes we visited in one short month’s time can understand that it was not just us reaching out to them. I want them to know that when we hugged them, Jesus was hugging them. When we gave them new shoes, Jesus knelt at their feet, tying them on. When we told them Bible stories, God was speaking to them.

In the end, just the knowledge doesn’t matter if I can’t go on and be Jesus to someone else. I want to remember my little Peruvian friends and how it felt to become empty and let Jesus’ love be poured through me.

Tags: Peru

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