Hope

Never in my life was the word ‘hope’ so potent to me as it was when I journeyed to South Africa. To be perfectly honest, hope was never a word that really meant all that much to me. Certainly I understood it’s eschatological significance (redemption, kingdom come, etc), but as an idea that I could rally behind? Let’s just say that it would have been rare for me to even use the word ‘hope’ in my day to day life. Africa changed all that. The shear magnitude of cultural depravity and the devaluing of life is so overwhelming that not even limitless food, medicine, or money could ever deliver a commodity so precious as hope. The hope that I speak of is more than just an idea, more than just a vision of what could or should be; it is a reality so present and palpable that I could almost taste it in the smiles of children or the songs of women.

As we drove through the valleys of Kwazulu Natal, the beauty of the landscape stood for me as a reminder that even in a dark place there is beauty and light. I see Zimele as an organization that helps people realize hope in those valleys. Its mission is not to deliver food parcels or bring medical care, Zimele’s mission is to empower people. This very mission presupposes the fact that so many people their are living in the dark of powerlessness; and where people are powerless they are hopeless.

I did not quickly settle on the reality of hope, I wanted answers that were more real and tangible then what often seems to me like just and idea. So looked for those answers, questioning locals about the AIDS epidemic, questioning experts with whom we worked about success rates and statistics, questioning God, and indeed questioning myself. The refrain of Psalms 42 and 43 is a refrain of introspection. Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God [and praise him]

I found myself truly needing to speak truth into my soul… Put your hope in God! put your hope in God!! I needed my soul to hear and believe the truth that God did care to move in the families of this broken region. I need to believe the truth that even in the darkest of places and most perplexing of circumstances God shines his light.

As I watched women invest their money and discuss their communities. As I heard them share their joys and their struggles, I experiences the powerful reality of watching grave situations become injected with the potent antibiotic of hope. For every child’s bicycle missing a wheel; for every family without a father; and for every terminally diseased adult, there stood a hope that was greater than it all. Zimele is not the hope, but Zimele gives flesh to the hope of God. A hope that is so desperately needed in Africa.