Hope from the Hopeful - learning to mourn

I’m learning to mourn, with the assurance of things not seen.

 The culmination of my learning at Taylor University was my Senior Christian Education Paper.  In 78 well documented pages I waxed eloquently about my newly developed "Philosophy of Ministry".

 My title: Leadership-Discipleship among Urban Adolescents: Bringing Hope to the Hopeless.  

 I wish desperately that I could write it over.

 Sunday night I watched the Bears game over a beer with one of my good friends Ryan.  Ryan works with gang members in one of the neighborhoods bordering ours.  Ryan, who grew up in the neighborhood, himself an ex-gang member, has an incredible story.  Sunday during half-time, he told me how he had taken a group of youth from his neighborhood to go camping a few years back.  While on his trip, the stopped to speak at a large white church.  Ryan shared his story with the church and how God had changed him.  The evening went great as far as he could tell.

 

When Ryan returned to Chicago, he got a call from a friend or two " did you see the article in the newspaper?"  The local newspaper at the town he spoke had printed a front page article, without asking, with a large picture of the group and of Ryan.  The headline:  "Bringing Hope to the Hopeless".

 How many examples do we have in our society of the (usually white) coach, the teacher, the mentor, the writer, who enters into a poor ethnic neighborhood and somehow with pep talks, and inspirational actions, brings hope to kids that don't have any.  

 "Finding Forrester"

"Glory Road"

"Freedom Writers"

"Knights of the South Bronx"

"Dangerous Minds"

 

There are definitely more examples. 

To be fair, there are examples of African American teachers/coaches (Remember the Titans, Sister Act etc.)

 You must agree though, we are fascinated with the concept of heroes and heroines.  Swooping in to hopeless situations, through impossible odds bringing light in the dark.  

 At the end of his story, Ryan said.  "I was so offended.  My kids aren't hopeless, my neighborhood isn't hopeless, it is a place filled with more hope that anyone from the outside can possibly imagine"

 When he said that I was reminded of my senior paper.  I was reminded that when I first began ministry in the city.  I thought that i was bringing Jesus into the neighborhood;  That my presence brought hope, That my neighborhood was lucky to have me there.

 

I didn't realize that Jesus had been in my neighborhood long before I got there.  That the local African-American churches (which I did not trust by the way) had been showing the love of Christ for 50 years.

 I also realized that my neighbors had more hope for the future of our neighborhood, for racial reconciliation, for the education of their children than I did.  In fact it is only joining with the Prayers of two African-American Pastors and on Latino Pastor from my neighborhood two mornings a week that I am still able to believe that what we do matters.  Those hours are filled with mournfully hopeful prayers.  You see, they have had many years of having their backs to the wall, seeing more pain than I can fathom.  However they have also seen God answer their prayers, in a very practical sense.  It is from my pastor who has spent 20 years talking to others about race (and hearing painful responses) that I have hope for our racialized church.

 Bringing hope to the hopeless?  Not me,  learning to Hope from the Hopeful.  That’s a better description.  Its amazing that I would have to move to a place that experiences great amounts of pain to see that God is faithful.  but then again isn't that what Jesus said.

 "Blessed are those who mourn for the will be comforted"

 I’m learning to mourn, with the assurance of things not seen.