Finding Hope in a Hopeless World

The red coated stranger.  In loafers.  And mustache.  Puts his palm out.  Turns head away from….The Hope-filled One….Passing out tracts.

And last time I came here….

• There were no tracts.  
• No Jesus.  
• No noticeable believers.  So bold in a city.  Unmasking. Christianity.

Only….

• Palm readers.  
• Beggars.  
• Buildings of Scientology, asking you to pay to have their wealth.  Of knowledge.  Knowledge leading….nowhere.
• Universalists.  
• Gathering hate groups.  Slandering people. Drawing crowds. Spewing lies from the putrid in their mouths. 

….While I stand.  Watch.  Remain silent.

Christians….

Trying to be careful. Tactful.  Not wanting to offend those squeaky wheels suffocating the crowds with their insanity.

I pass by an elderly lady.  Barely speaking English.  She gives my six year old daughter.  A printed booklet.  

I look.  Listen.  Read.  Just to make sure that it isn’t some false religion….Posing as Christianity. 

….Like the haters prior pointing. Slandering.  Saying Americans are evil, and somehow all of us are reincarnations of the anti-Christ.

Yes, I needed to read that booklet.

But, as I read.  Hope fills my chest.  The booklet…Psalms.  Jesus….100%.  Even at the end….A prayer of confession.

And we pass by a man.  White board writing.  “Is God good?

And from the looks of these city streets a year ago. I would have doubted God looked upon these people.  Let alone loved them.

But, this day.  It was as if conviction came over God’s people.  Like there was some kind of release….

To evangelize….A world broken.  Even if red coated, hand lifting stranger….Didn’t notice it.

And how can a city go from desperately needing Jesus.  Screaming.  Hating.  Gang dealing….in the demise of it all….

To a hope filled fountain trying to draw people to their youth….

And a hope in Him?

And though towers will fall.  And this world will undoubtedly……remains broken.  There is still and always will be hope in….

Jesus.

And He is not distance.

He is a tract away.

He is there. With the man standing.  Lonely.  People passing.  Ignoring.  White board writing.  

Hope that does not disappoint.  Hope sustaining.  The kind of hope that never fades away.

Yet, I stand there….Frozen.  
Minutes wanting answers….At the irony of it all.

Coffee stand.  Few feet away….

Packed.

People looking for a rush of strength and power and life….

Asked to…“Choose.  Brew.”  And, “Enjoy”  the addicting, foreign substance….that I too often cling to.

When a track lay beckoning in the older one’s hand.  With the answer.  All hope…

Just a few feet away.

(Linking with Laura, Ann, Michelle, On, In, & Around Mondays, Jen, Shanda)